Kieron turned his face to the wall. Because of him, the star-kings fought Ivane's battle. And by now they would have won. The only thing that had been done was the killing of the treacherous Freka. He held Kalgan now, for the Valkyrs had returned seeking their Warlord after Freka's plan had stripped the planet of fighting men--and the mobs had done the Valkyr's work for them. But two worlds were not an Empire of stars. Alys had been cheated. Because of him. No! thought Kieron, by the Seven Hells, no! They could not be defeated so easily. There were five thousand warriors with him now. If need be, he would fight the Imperium's massed forces to win Alys' rightful place on the throne of Gilmer of Kaidor! "Let me up," Kieron demanded. "If we hit them on Earth before they have a chance to consolidate, there's still a chance!" "There is no hurry, Kieron," said Nevitta holding him in the bed with a great hand. "Freka and the star-kings have already...." "_Freka!_" Kieron sat bolt upright. "Why, yes ..." murmured Nevitta in perplexity. "Freka." "That's impossible!" "We have had information from the Imperial City, Kieron. Freka is there," said Alys. Kieron sank back on the pillows. Had he dreamed killing the Kalgan? No! It wasn't possible! He had driven the blade into his chest three times ... driven it deep. With an effort he rose from the bed. "Order my charger, Nevitta!" "But sir!" "Quickly, Nevitta! There is no time!" Nevitta saluted reluctantly and withdrew. "Help me with my harness, Alys," ordered Kieron forgetful of majesty. "Kieron, you can't ride!" "I have to ride, Alys. Listen to me. I drove a dagger into Freka three times ... and he has not died! One man can tell us why, and we must know. _That man is Geller of the Marshes!_" * * * * * Neg was a shambles. The advent of the Valkyrs had been a signal for the brutish population to go mad. Mobs had thronged the streets, smashing, killing and looting. The few Kalgan warriors left behind to guard the city had had to aid the Valkyrs in restoring order. It seemed to Kieron, as he rode along the now sullenly silent streets, that Kalgan and Neg had been deliberately abandoned as having served a purpose. If Freka still lived, as they said, then he was something unique among men, and not meant for so unimportant a world as Kalgan. Shops and houses had been gutted by fire. Goods of all kinds were strewn about the streets, and here and there a body--twisted and dismembered--awaited the harrassed burial detachments that roamed the shattered megalopolis. Kieron and Alys rode slowly toward the marshy slums of the lower city, Nevitta following them at a short distance. The three war horses, creatures bred to war and destruction, paced along easily, flaring nostrils taking in the familiar smells of a ruined city.