"Some might," she answered shakily, "but most are controlled by fear of the Temple's curse. Best we go toward the palace. The Emperor's Household troops are loyal to him and hate the priesthood which seeks to usurp his power." "We can head that way," he nodded, "meanwhile looking for a place to hide." He took her hand and they trotted through the thick darkness toward the dim light marking the end of the alley. Other feet padded in the gloom. Alfric snarled soundlessly and pulled himself and the girl against a wall. He was almost blind in the dark, but he strained his ears, pointing them this way and that in search of the enemy. The others had also stopped moving. They would be waiting for him to stir, and their own motionlessness could surely outlast the girl's--anyway, the pursuit from the room would be after him in another moment, when the door gave way-- "Run!" he snapped. * * * * * He felt a dart blow by the spot where he had spoken, and lengthened his frantic stride. A form rose before him, vague in the night. He chopped down with his sword, and felt a grim joy at the ripping of flesh and sundering of bone. Now--out of the alley, into a street not much wider or lighter, and down its shadowy length. The slaves would be behind, but-- There was a one-story house ahead, of the usual flat-roofed construction. "Up!" gasped Alfric, and made a stirrup of his hands. He fairly flung the girl onto the roof. She gave him a hand up, bracing her feet against the parapet, and they fell down together behind it. Alfric heard the slaves' bare feet trotting below him, but dared not risk a glance. Snakelike, he and Freha slithered across the housetop. Only a narrow space separated them from the next; they jumped that and crossed over to another and higher roof. From this, Alfric peered into the street beyond. A couple of city guards were walking down it, spears at the ready. Alfric wondered whether he should join them--no, they would be no shield against a blowgun dart sent from an alley--anyway, they might be priest-loyal. He put his mouth to Freha's ear, even then aware of the dark silky hair tickling his lips, and whispered: "What next?" "I don't know." She looked ahead over the nighted roofs to the great central forum, still ruddy-bright with torches. Beyond it, the city climbed toward a double hill, on either crest of which was a building. One must be the palace, thought Alfric--it was in the graceful colonnaded style of the later Empire, white marble under Amaris. Nearly all its windows were dark; but he thought, puzzledly, that it was surrounded by a ring of fires. The other building was a great gray pile, sprawling its grim massiveness in a red blaze of light. From it came the steady gong-beat and a rising chant--the Temple of the Two Moons, holding vigil at their wedding.