He paused. The hall was terribly silent; then someone to the right of the throne shouted, "He's crazy! Let's get out of here!" He dashed for the great doors, which had been closed. Herndon let him get within ten feet of safety, then blasted him down with a discharge of life-force. The mechanism within his body recharged itself, drawing its power from the hatred within him and discharging through his fingertips. Herndon smiled at Lord Moaris, pale now. He said, "I'll be more generous to you than you to your Lady. A quick death for you." He hurled a bolt of force at the nobleman. Moaris recoiled, but there was no hiding possible; he stood bathed in light for a moment, and then the charred husk dropped to the ground. A second bolt raked the crowd of courtiers. A third Herndon aimed at the throne; the costly hangings of the throne-area caught first, and Krellig half-rose before the bolt of force caught him and hurled him back dead. Herndon stood alone in the middle of the floor. His quest was at its end; he had achieved his vengeance. All but the last: on himself, for having broken the oath he had involuntarily sworn to the Seigneur. Life held no further meaning for him. It was odious to consider returning to a spacerogue's career, and only death offered absolution from his oaths. He directed a blazing beam of force at one of the great pillars that supported the throneroom's ceiling. It blackened, then buckled. He blasted apart another of the pillars, and the third. The roof groaned; the tons of masonry were suddenly without support, after hundreds of years. Herndon waited, and smiled in triumph as the ceiling hurtled down at him.