"All right," Kesley said. "Let me suggest an alternate policy: you step down from the throne and appoint me Duke. I'm an Immortal too, I've discovered lately; I'll take your job. And I'll break down all the barriers that keep the people of the world penned away from each other." "Just how will you persuade me to allow this?" van Alen asked, with icy calmness. _This is the moment_, Kesley thought. He stepped toward van Alen, seized the momentarily relaxed arm quickly, twisted it up behind the Immortal's back. At the same moment he drew his knife, touched it to van Alen's throat just below the beard. "Miguel taught me that Immortals can be killed. He sent me off to kill one. I don't want to drive this knife home, van Alen, but I will if I have to. Get your robots in here and dictate a message of abdication." "If I don't--" Kesley twitched the knife slightly. Van Alen winced. "I can break your hold, you know," the Duke pointed out. "Probably." Kesley remembered the time van Alen had broken Kesley's grip in the Iowa farmhouse, had removed Kesley's hands from his throat as if he were a child. "But while you're doing that, I push the knife in. You don't have a chance. Will you dictate the abdication?" "I've ruled here three hundred sixty years and more," van Alen said. "It's not easy to give up a throne in a moment after so long." Again Kesley dug the knife in. This time, a few drops of blood trickled down, staining van Alen's broad collar. Immortal blood. "Well?" Sweat mingled with the blood droplets on van Alen's throat. "I agree to terms," he said hoarsely. "Snap on the recorder on my desk." Kesley looked suspiciously at the knob mounted in the cabinet. "If this is a trick--" "No trick," van Alen said. Kesley backed across the room without releasing his grip on van Alen, and spun the noble around. "Reach down and snap on the recorder yourself. I'll be ready with the knife if anything strange happens. Then start to talk." Van Alen shifted the position of the stud with an extended finger. A faint hum resulted; otherwise, nothing happened. Kesley relaxed just a trifle. "Talk," he ordered. Van Alen said: "People of Antarctica, hear and believe this message. "Today, in the three hundred sixty-second year of my rule, I am giving up my throne. "I turn it over to the man named Dale Kesley--like myself an Immortal. He will rule you wisely and well, I am sure, and will lead you to greatnesses I never dared to attain. "Thank you." Van Alen shut the machine off. "There," he said. "When I touch the spiral lever, the message will be beamed on wide circuit to the entire continent. The robots will shift allegiance to you at once; the place will be yours." "Touch the lever," Kesley said hoarsely. Van Alen reached out--but as he nudged the control, a bright green beam licked out suddenly. Acting instinctively, Kesley jabbed at the Duke's throat with the knife. There was no knife.