The old fellow's claim to be beloved of the people was not a lie, thought Rikard tautly, and crammed a fist into the mouth of the nearest man who rushed, weeping and cursing at him. Swords and pikes clattered together as the guards hit the tight circle of Rayth's warriors. Rikard led the retreat, his sword whistling and thumping--he did not cut, but he hammered a way through the mob, and it fell back before his great bloody shape. "The ramp--over there--" They braced themselves and leaped, ten feet straight up, arcing forward to land on the upward-curving surface. Then they ran! A hurled spear flashed, and one of Rayth's men toppled. Two more had been pulled down by the bare hands of the commons, and another had fallen in the retreat. The crowd, half angry, half frightened, moved slowly after them. They dashed into a corridor on the noble level, and the two city guardsmen posted there clanged the gate shut in the face of pursuit. Panting, they stopped and looked at each other. "There'll be Mars to pay down there," said the leader hoarsely. "Riots--" "Take me to his Excellency," said Rikard. "Aye--at once--and good work, barbarian! You did a job that we've tried to do for the past five years." They went swiftly down the long passageways, up ramps and stairs, past the sumptuous apartments of the rich where men and women, children and servants and slaves cowered at sight of drawn weapons and at the faint, rising noise of the lower levels. When they came to Rayth's door, they entered without ceremony. The prince leaped to his feet, spilling his wine-glass, and the lean bearded face blazed at Rikard. "Is it done?" he yelled. "Did you really do it?" "Aye--aye--" The rebel leaned wearily on his sword and let his eyes rove the chamber. There were seven or eight other men seated around the table, mostly older and fatter than Rayth but all with the rich dress and the inbred hauteur of the rulers. There was also a high-ranking Engineer, a sly-faced elderly man whose heavy-lidded eyes barely flicked over the newcomers before retreating back to their own dreams. But it was to Leda that Rikard's gaze went first, Leda who had been sprawling sullen and splendid on a couch and who now started up and ran to him and clung wordlessly to his bleeding form. "Aye, he's dead," nodded the barbarian. "It took you several hours," said Rayth. "I was sure you had failed." "They made me wait a long time while the Chief finished an--an experiment, they called it. But I got at him, broke his neck, and grabbed a sword and chopped my way out." Rikard strode boldly over to the table and grabbed up a glass and drained it. "Do you hear that?" Rayth turned on the others and his voice rose to a shout. "Do you hear that?" His laughter was loud and wild. "He's dead! His Wisdom Laon XIII, Chief Engineer of Coper City, is dead! Are you ready to assume the post, Jastur?" he cried to the Engineer, "Would you like to take the name of Laon XIV?"