"Come on. We've been held up here long enough. Let's go." * * * * * Suddenly, Stern felt powerless. This whole thing had fallen apart. He should never have come in here. He should have just taken off--as he had intended. In space, he would have been safe, at least. Here? He bent his head resignedly. He could try one more thing. This was a young man--inexperienced. Maybe---- "You will precede us," he said. "No," Don told him, "I don't think I will. I think it will be better if I leave that honor to one of the other wardens. I want to be able to see you." He jerked his head at a man who stood to the left of the door. "Will you honor us, Mernar-dar?" The other tilted his head. "It is I who am honored," he said. He turned and went out the door. Dazedly, Stern walked forward, pacing with the claimant. He paused as he got to the porch. Michaels was still standing inside the door. "Right here," he said coldly, "we shall return to a very old custom. I shall remain, to protect the rear. And I shall watch the entire progress of the advance to the Throne Room." He smiled grimly. "You are, I suppose, familiar with the range of a medium duty blaster?" Stern nodded. "I've seen them operate," he admitted. "Good." Don nodded. "This thing will outrange them a little. I'll have you in my sights all the way. Remember that, and don't do anything that might cause me to fear for Pete's safety." The wardens spread out, to fan out before Stern and Pete. Acting the part of scouts before a column, they started across the wide lawn, toward the Throne Room. Stern watched them for a moment, then took Pete's arm. Together, they walked down the long flight of steps. For a moment, they paused at the path, as ritual demanded, for a signal to continue. Stern allowed his thoughts to race. There was no question about it now, he thought. This boy would be upheld by the conclave--if he got before it. And if he were now sustained, an ex-regent named Stern would find himself in very grave trouble indeed. This was much worse than that mob in Tonar City. He glanced toward the gate in the wall ahead and to his right. Just beyond that door lay his yacht--and safety. If he could only figure out a way---- * * * * * Across the lawn, a warden was making the signal for the advance. The way, then, was ritually clear. Stern stepped forward, still glancing toward that door. They would pass within just a few meters of it. Now, where was that Michaels? Suddenly, he realized he could never hope to get out his hidden weapon, find Michaels with it, and vaporize him. Not until the other had plenty of time to release a beam of his own. He shuddered, remembering the destruction that weapon had caused up in the Morek. At this range, even the narrowest blaster beam would fan out enough to destroy a man's entire body. And that thing, whatever it was----