In answer Tharn took up a position with his back only an inch or two from the wall. Cupping his hands together in front of him, he bent his knees slightly, keeping his back straight. "Extend your arms above your head," he directed, "and place your right foot in my hands, crouching a little while I support your weight. That way I can toss you high enough to enable your hands to catch the wall's edge." Trakor nodded, a shade doubtfully, and followed directions. Like a striking snake Tharn uncoiled his bent legs with a sharp upward thrust, at the same instant jerking his locked hands up to chest level. The youth shot upward like an arrow from a bow. Tharn heard a dull thud, followed by a low exclamation of pain. He looked up to see Trakor sitting astride the wall rubbing one of his shins. At Tharn's instructions, Trakor lay chest down against the wall's top and extended his right hand downward. The cave lord backed away, then ran forward and leaped high, catching Trakor's fingers and swinging lightly up beside him. There were trees--many of them--singly and in groups, their branches heavy with leaves. The grounds in which they stood were immense, with winding paths of crushed stone, winding between bushes heavy with jungle blooms. Here and there concealed jets flung graceful and shimmering curtains of water skyward, the falling drops pattering musically into stone-lined pools. In the distance loomed the gleaming white walls of a palace that, Tharn realized, was easily three times the size of any he had seen in Sephar. Lightly the two men dropped to the closely clipped grass. Tharn would have liked to remain aloft for a minute or two, to drink in the beauty of the scene and to get some idea of just where within Ammad they were. But should some sleepless Ammadian be standing at a window in that palace, he could hardly keep from seeing those two figures atop the wall. Side by side the two cave men strode lightly toward a cluster of eight trees arranged in a small circle. While from the depths of a thicket of bushes bordering one of the garden pools a pair of eyes watched them in startled wonder. * * * * * Dylara crouched beneath a table in Vokal's kitchen and listened to that nobleman's strident voice as it lashed at a group of palace guards outside the half open door. "Do you expect me to believe," he said hotly, "that a single warrior could slay seven of you? Were their muscles turned to water at sight of him? And the rest of you--are you soldiers or children to be so easily outwitted?" No one attempted a reply. Ekbar, captain of the guards, stood stiffly by, beads of nervous perspiration dotting his forehead. His turn would come once Vokal was through with the guards themselves. He would be fortunate indeed to escape with no more than a tongue-lashing; he might well end up being demoted in rank.