Trakor went back along that corridor with long swinging strides, his naked feet soundless against the stone, his head erect, his ears and eyes alert for the slightest sound or movement. Ascending the same flight of stairs he had descended a few minutes earlier, he paused at the top and looked carefully at the twin lines of closed doors. The seventh on his left; he had counted them off carefully while on his way to the floor below. For a full minute he stood motionless outside that barred portal, listening for some indication that others were up and about the palace. Then he turned back, lifted the bar and pushed open the door with slow care. A flicker of motion from within the darkened room caused him to leap sharply back, just in time to keep a heavy wooden chair from caving in his head. Unchecked, the chair struck the floor with a resounding crash, the impact tearing it loose from Dylara's hands. By the time she had bent to pick it up for a second try, Trakor was inside and the door closed. He threw out a hand to ward off Dylara's impromptu club, whispering, "No, Dylara! It is I--Trakor!" A muffled sob of relief and thanksgiving was torn from her throat, then she was in his arms. At the feel of her body against his, the heady scent of her hair in his nostrils, Trakor felt his heart leap within him and his arms tightened suddenly about the girl's smooth, softly rounded shoulders. Then the moment was gone and they drew apart. "I can't believe it, Trakor!" Dylara whispered. "How did you manage to get away?" "There's no time for that now," he said. "We've got to get out of this place and back to the jungle where we belong. Tharn is out there somewhere and we must find him before he enters Ammad in search of us." "But how...." "I don't know--yet. If we can reach the streets without being seen...." He went to the door, pressed an ear against its planks for a moment, then very gently drew open the heavy section of wood and put his head cautiously out. The corridor, in either direction, was deserted. "Come," he whispered, and hand in hand they stole silently toward the head of those stairs Trakor had recently climbed. From somewhere below them a door slammed heavily and sandaled feet, several pairs of them judging from the sound, approached the base of that same flight of steps. Without speaking Trakor and Dylara turned and, on tiptoe, raced in the opposite direction. As he ran, Trakor drew his knife in preparation for any enemy who might suddenly loom in their path. A turn in the corridor brought them to a second flight of steps, down which they raced at full speed. Past landings at the third and second floors they fled, stopping at last in front of a closed door marking the main level of the palace. "Wait!" Trakor breathed, placing a restraining hand on the girl's arm. * * * * * Silence seemed to press down upon them, a silence so complete they could hear the breath rustling in their nostrils.