"Look here," said Rikard, "you can send him a message that it concerns certain newly found ores of power. If his Wisdom isn't interested, I'll go my way. But if you don't do this much, I'd hate to be in your skin when he learns what you've kept from him." "Hmmm--well--" The captain rubbed his chin. There was a superstitious awe deep within his eyes, and the other sentries gaped. "Well, all right." He peered narrowly at the barbarian, "You're not of the city. Where are you from?" "Moonburg, if you must know. But my message!" The captain blew a whistle, and an acolyte came forth from within to receive the word and run back with it. Rikard stood waiting, trying not to shiver with the gathering tautness of the moment. Rayth had told him to give this message, and it seemed to work. The prince had added that the Temple was seeking to recover the lost secret of the legendary Tommic's Power, so immensely more potent than the sunlight batteries, but had not gone far for lack of the necessary metals. To Rikard, Tommic had merely been a local god worshipped by some towns, though in other stories he was the devil responsible for the Fall. "Your sword," said the captain. Rikard shrugged. It was understandable that no visitor should bear weapons within the Temple, especially after Rayth's last few attempts. He unslung his glaive and handed it over, and permitted them to search him for concealed knives. It did not seem to occur to them, in spite of his hard-thewed size, that hands and shod feet have killed men. The acolyte returned, a full Engineer with him. The latter spoke hurriedly. "Who are you, stranger, and what is this word you bear?" "I am Atli Athur's son of Moonburg, your Knowledge," said Rikard, bowing as low as his stiff-necked soul permitted him. "If it please you, this word I have should not be discussed out in public." "No--no--certainly not. I'll take you to his Wisdom. Follow me." Rikard went after the swirling red robe, his narrowed eyes taking careful note of everything they passed. Down a long muraled corridor, opening into rooms which seemed oddly little like religious centers--they glittered with metal and glass and plastic, and Engineers in drab, stained smocks labored with a bewildering variety of instruments, past a couple of guardsmen-- The thing to do, he thought grimly, was to break the old fellow's neck, grab a sword from the nearest armed man, and try to cut his way out. None of Rayth's men were allowed inside the Temple, but if they were waiting just beyond the gates he might have some chance. The corridor ended in a tall doorway where four sentries in gold and scarlet stood by rigidly held pikes. Beyond was the great audience chamber.