A resplendent aide hustled forward to where the official in charge of the dome was wetting his lips over his rehearsed greeting. It was quickly made plain that His Illustrious Sublimity desired transportation and a look at the quarters he would have to put up with until the jackals on Jursa came to their senses. The official had tried to provide for every known imperial fancy. He smirked delightfully when Vyrtl caught sight of the lozards tethered at one side. "By Pollux!" exclaimed the Emperor, his eye brightening. "We hadn't expected the pleasure of riding till this was over." "He tells me they have built a forest, Sire," reported the aide. "About half a mile square. At least, you will have some relaxation." "Good! It is all very well playing the soldier and roughing it informally, but a man must have _something_!" He surveyed the reptilian mounts that were led forward and chose one whose eight legs were a trifle longer than average. With reasonable agility, considering his bulk, he hoisted himself into the saddle and set off toward the miniature palace awaiting him. His guardsmen trotted alongside while the rest of his retinue mounted and followed as best they could. He drew rein once, to gaze up through the dome at the yellow-green disk of Jursa. Wilkins overtook him. "Note the dark line in the southern hemisphere, Sire," he said. "The result of Marshal Tzyfol's sweep--the one that broke through their fleets and led to their plea for terms." "Excellent!" said the Emperor. He lowered his gaze and stretched his neck uncomfortably. Vyrtl was unaccustomed to looking up at anything or anybody. "They will bear our mark." "It will teach them the lesson they deserve," agreed Wilkins dutifully. "Autonomy, indeed!" "Quite," said Vyrtl, urging his lozard forward. "Who are those fools to think they can demand exemption from established imperial laws ... they should be satisfied with the standard textbooks and forget their puttering! Ha--what's this?" He pulled up before a small replica of the palace. "The dome engineer built it for your wives, Sire." "Our wives?" "Twenty of them volunteered to share the rigors of the campaign. Their special transport arrived just before us." "Humph!" grunted Vyrtl, riding past. * * * * * Early the next morning, after the engineers had arranged a dawn for his benefit, Vyrtl called a council of his commanders. Chief-of-Staff Robert Tzyfol reported on the situation. The rebellious Jursans were sending a representative to ask for terms. In the Marshal's strongly expressed opinion, no leniency was necessary. The imperial fleets were slowly but surely stamping out all resistance, making Jursa unlivable. "Abject submission is their only course," he declared. It was the sort of declaration with which Vyrtl might have agreed, had he been able to voice it first.