"You know the charge," Dandtan's words were tipped with venom as Garin came to stand before him. "Out of his own mouth has this outlander condemned himself. Therefore I ask that you decree for him the fate of that outlander of the second calling who rebelled against the summoning." "The outlander has admitted his fault?" questioned one of the Folk. Trar inclined his head sadly. "He did." As Garin opened his mouth to demand a stating of the charge against him, Dandtan spoke again: "What say you, Lords?" For a long moment they sat in silence and then they bobbed their lizard heads in assent. "Do as you desire, Dweller in the Light." Dandtan smiled without mirth. "Look, outlander." He passed his hand over the glass of the seeing mirror set in the table top. "This is the fate of him who rebels--" In the shining surface Garin saw pictured a break in Tav's wall. At its foot stood a group of men of the Ancient Ones, and in their midst struggled a prisoner. They were forcing him to climb the crater wall. Garin watched him reach the lip and crawl over, to stagger across the steaming rock, dodging the scalding vapor of hot springs, until he pitched face down in the slimy mud. "Such was his ending, and so will you end--" The calm brutality of that statement aroused Garin's anger. "Rather would I die that way than linger in this den," he cried hotly. "You, who owe your life to me, would send me to such a death without even telling me of what I am accused. Little is there to choose between you and Kepta, after all--except that he was an open enemy!" Dandtan sprang to his feet, but Trar caught his arm. "He speaks fairly. Ask him why he will not fulfill the summoning." While Dandtan hesitated, Garin leaned across the table, flinging his words, weapon-like, straight into that cold face. "I'll admit that I love Thrala--have loved her since that moment when I saw her on the steps of the morgel pit in the caves. Since when has it become a crime to love that which may not be yours--if you do not try to take it?" Trar released Dandtan, his golden eyes gleaming. "If you love her, claim her. It is your right." "Do I not know," Garin turned to him, "that she is Dandtan's. Thran had no idea of Dandtan's survival when he laid his will upon her. Shall I stoop to holding her to an unwelcome bargain? Let her go to the one she loves...." Dandtan's face was livid, and his hands, resting on the table, trembled. One by one the lords of the Folk slipped away, leaving the two face-to-face. "And I thought to order you to your death." Dandtan's whisper was husky as it emerged between dry lips. "Garin, we thought you knew--and, knowing, had refused her." "Knew what?" * * * * * "That I am Thran's son--and Thrala's brother." The floor swung beneath Garin's unsteady feet. Dandtan's hands were warm on his shoulders. "I am a fool," said the American slowly.