"Little help there, then." Hildaborg laughed mirthlessly. "All the city against us, and our only friends bottled in a ring of spears. You chose an unlucky time to enter Valkarion, Alfric." The barbarian's head was spinning. "You are--the Empress," he gasped, "and there's some nonsense about me.... What is this prophecy? Why did you--" his voice, helpless with bewilderment, faded off into the moaning wind. "No time now, someone may be along any moment.... Where to hide, where to hide?" * * * * * Alfric's eyes traveled down to the two bodies sprawled on the street. Suddenly he laughed, a harsh metallic bark. "Why, in the very lair of the foe!" he said. "As good citizens, it behooves us to join the hunt for the outlaws. Here is suitable clothing for us." She nodded, and fell at once to stripping the corpses. Alfric looked narrowly at the prisoner. "If you betray us--" he murmured. "I won't--by the Moons, I swear I won't--" "Indeed you won't," said Alfric, and lifted sword to cut him down. Hildaborg sprang up and grabbed his arm. "That's a barbarous trick," she exclaimed angrily. "You need only bind and gag him, and hide him in one of these ruins." "Why worry about the life of a guardsman?" he asked contemptuously. Her dark head lifted in pride. "I am Empress of the guardsmen too," she said. "As you like," shrugged Alfric. The captive turned a face of utter worship to the woman. "You must secure me," he said, his voice shaking. "But when I am released, my body and soul are yours forever, my lady." Hildaborg smiled, and proceeded to cut strips of cloth and dispose of the guard as she had said. Then she turned to Alfric. "You are hard of heart," she murmured, "but perhaps Valkarion needs one like you, strong and ruthless." Her deep eyes glowed. "How you fought, Alfric! How you fought!" The barbarian squatted down and began wiping blood off the looted armor. "I've had enough," he growled. "I've been hoodwinked and hounded over the whole damned city, I've been thrown into a broil I never heard of, and now I want some truth. What is this prophecy? Why are you here? What does everyone want--" he laughed humorlessly--"besides our heads?" "The prophecy--it is in the Book of the Sibyl, Alfric. It was made I know not how many thousands or tens of thousands of years ago, at the time of the Empire's greatest glory. There was a half-mad priestess who chanted songs of ruin and desolation, which few believed--what could harm the Empire? But the songs were handed down through many generations by a few who had some faith, and slowly it was seen that the songs spoke truth. One thing came to pass after another, just as it was foretold. Then the songs were collected by the priesthood, who use the book to guide their policies." "Hmmmm--I wonder. I've no great faith in spaedom myself."