Kesley groped unsteadily toward a chair; it sprang forward and settled itself beneath him. "You, yourself--" "Antarctica is mine, Dale. I went north to bring you here, but I failed. My life was threatened in the forest. I ran. An Immortal is jealous of his life. Remember the scream of fear when you first drew the knife on me, after I shot your wolf? That was _fright_--naked crawling fright." The Antarctican shook his head bitterly. "I should never have left here." "I've seen Daveen," Kesley said. "I know. The otter sent him to me." "Spahl?" Van Alen nodded. "That's his name. You owe your life to him many times over, Dale." "I owe my life to everyone at least six times, it seems," Kesley said sardonically. "It seems to be a game everyone likes to play--saving me." "Spahl found out who Lomark Dawnspear really was and sent him here. Spahl was the one who arranged to have you sent here, by the only method that can penetrate our Barrier. It was Spahl also, I believe, who discovered you in the forest when you escaped from Miguel." Kesley frowned. "Enough of Spahl. I've seen Daveen. I know I'm Immortal, now." "Of course." "Why didn't you tell me?" Van Alen spread his hands. "Would you have believed me?" Kesley paused, thinking for a moment. "No," he said finally. "But when Daveen struck those notes on his instrument, I _knew_." He rose and began to pace nervously. His booted feet sank deep into the glistening carpet that covered the entire room. "I want to tell you why I came to see the Duke, van Alen. I mean that--I came to see the Duke as Duke, and the fact that he turned out to be you doesn't matter a damn to what I'm going to say." Lazily van Alen touched the electrostimulator to his wrist again. "Go ahead. I'm most interested." "From what little I've seen of Antarctica, it's a wonderful place. It's the only place in the world where science didn't die with the Great Blast--except Wiener, maybe, and there aren't any people in Wiener. You've got technology, here; you've got a working society. I've only been here a few hours and I don't know _what_ you have. But I do know this: you've got the power to knock Winslow and Miguel and the rest of them sprawling from their thrones, and break down the resistance to progress that the Twelve Dukes have so carefully built up." The smile had left van Alen's face. The Duke was studying Kesley reflectively, his lips drawn into a tight scowl, his lean fingers knotted in the fringes of his beard. Kesley moistened his lips. "For one reason or another, you've set up this impassable wall. You want to keep what you've got, and you don't want anything to do with the rest of the world to the north. Is this right?" "This has been my policy," van Alen admitted. Kesley glanced around uneasily. "Can you justify that policy?" "I see no need to."