"Let us go to the Hall of Thrones." But the Daughter did not answer his smile. "It is not meet that we should spend time in idle talk. Let us go instead to call upon the help of those who have gone before us." So speaking, she darted a glance at Garin as chill as the arctic lands beyond the lip of Tav, and then swept away with Sera bearing her train. Dandtan stared at Garin. "What has happened between you two?" The flyer shook his head. "I don't know. No man is born with an understanding of women--" "But she is angered with you. What has happened?" For a moment Garin was tempted to tell the truth: that he dared not break any barrier she chose to raise, lest he seize what in honor was none of his. But he shook his head mutely. Neither of them saw Thrala again until Death entered the Caverns. _CHAPTER TEN_ _Battle and Victory_ Garin stood with Dandtan looking out into the plain of Tav. Some distance away were two slender, steel-tipped towers, which were, in reality, but hollow tubes filled with the Black Fire. Before these dark-clad figures were busy. "They seem to believe us already defeated. Let them think so," commented Dandtan, touching the screen they had erected before the Cavern entrance. As he spoke Kepta swaggered through the tall grass to call a greeting: "Ho, rock dweller, I would speak with you--" Dandtan edged around the screen, Garin a pace behind. "I see you, Kepta." "Good. I trust that your ears will serve you as well as your eyes. These are my terms: Give Thrala to me to dwell in my chamber and the outlander to provide sport for my captains. Make no resistance but throw open the Caverns so that I may take my rightful place in the Hall of Thrones. Do this and we shall be at peace...." "And this is our reply:"--Dandtan stood unmovingly before the screen--"Return to the Caves; break down the bridge between your land and ours. Let no Black One come hither again, ever...." Kepta laughed. "So, that be the way of it! Then this shall we do: take Thrala, to be mine for a space, and then to go to my captains--" Garin hurled himself forward, felt Kepta's lips mash beneath his fist; his fingers were closing about the other's throat as Dandtan, who was trying to pull him away from his prey, shouted a warning: "Watch out!" A morgel had leaped from the grass, its teeth snapping about Garin's wrist, forcing him to drop Kepta. Then Dandtan laid it senseless by a sharp blow with his belt. On hands and knees Kepta crawled back to his men. The lower part of his face was a red and dripping smear. He screamed an order with savage fury. Dandtan drew the still raging flyer behind the screen. "Be a little prudent," he panted. "Kepta can be dealt with in other ways than with bare hands." The towers were swinging their tips toward the entrance. Dandtan ordered the screen wedged tightly into place.