Rayth danced aside from the shrieking ax, and his blade whipped in against Rikard's throat. The rebel rolled, barely ducking the thrust, and Rayth grinned without much malice and sprang at him. His sword clattered and yelled, biting the Nyracan's arms, bouncing off the hard-held guard to sing around his opponent's ears. Rikard fell back, grunting in surprise, and Rayth pursued him, lightfooted, leaping, playing with him. Scream and clangor of steel, hoarse gasps for breath, bounding human forms in a strange and terrible grace of murder, clash and bite and two faces staring into each other's eyes across the web of flying metal. Rikard hewed out again and again, cleaving empty air; his phantom enemy was somewhere else to rake him until he staggered and splashed his blood on the floor. Leda yelled and sprang on Rayth from behind. His sword whirled around, caught in the guard of hers and sent it spinning free, and slewed back to meet Rikard's charge. He retreated before the rebel's rush, laughing, parrying blow after clumsy blow, waiting for the end. * * * * * It came swiftly. Rikard's bull charge forced Rayth back into a corner where he braced himself and smiled. As the ax whirred down toward his skull, he lifted his blade to parry it as he had done before--and the steel broke across. Rikard stood gasping, reeling on his feet, looking down at the body of his foe with a numbness stealing over him. He hardly noticed the sobbing girl who flung herself into his arms; he stood mute for a long while and when he spoke at last it was dully. "That wasn't right. I didn't kill him--a flaw in his blade did--it isn't right, somehow." The Chief Engineer came to Rikard where he stood watching the first harsh glare of sunrise creep over the heights of Copernicus. The barbarian leaned heavily on his woman. He had taken many hurts. * * * * * Laon's old face was drawn with weariness; there was no great triumph in him. "It's over," he said. "It was a bloody, horrible business, but we hold the entire city now, all levels; the nobles are our prisoners and the Mayor is our puppet and the Temple is victorious. Thanks to you, my friend." "There is more to do," said Rikard. "The armies will hear about this, out in the conquered provinces, and many of them, at least, won't like it. There'll be hard fighting to hold what we have." "Oh, yes. Though I think with some diplomacy, and with the provinces restless at their backs, they may decide--well, we must see. And afterward there is much more to do, generations of work--Are you with us, Rikard?" "I suppose so. I'll have to think about it. Nyrac should not be a mere province, but--well--I'll think about it." "At least," said Laon, "we can rest a little while now." "It's over, darling, darling," whispered Leda. "The fight is over."