Past the tall arch of the Emperor's antechamber lay the Hall of the Thousand Emperors. Kieron strode through it, the flickering flames of the wall-sconces casting long shadows out behind him — shadows that danced and whirled on the tapestried walls and touched the composed I aces of the great men of Earth.
These were brooding men; men who stared down at him out of their thousand pasts. Men who had stood with a planet for a throne and watched their Empire passing in ordered glory from horizon to horizon across the night sky of Earth — men worshipped as gods on out-world pHanets, who watched and guided the tide of Empire until it crashed thundering on the shores of ten thousand worlds beyond Vega and Altair. Men who sat cloaked in sable robes with diamond stars encrusted and saw their civilization built out from the Great Throne, tier on shining tier until at last it reached the Edge and strained across the awful gulf for the terrible seetee suns of mighty Andromeda itself…
The last few of the men like gods had watched the First Empire crumble. They had seen the wave of annihilation sweeping in from the Outer Marches of the Periphery; had seen their gem-bright civilization shattered with destructive forces so hideous that the spectre of the Great Destroyer hung like a mantle of death over the Galaxy, a thing to be shunned and feared forever. And thus had come the Interregnum.
Kieron had no eyes for these brooding giants; his world was not the world they had known. It was in the next chamber that the out-world warrior paused. It was a vast and empty place. Here there were but five figures and space for a thousand more. This was the Empire that Kieron knew. This Empire he had fought for and helped secure; a savage, darkling thing spawned in the dark ages of the Interregnum, a Galaxy-spanning fief of star-kings and serfs — of warlocks and spaceships — of light and shadow. This Empire had been born in the agony of a
Galaxy and tempered in the bitter internecine wars of reconquest.
Before the image of Gilmer of Kaidor, Kieron stopped. He stood in silence, looking into the face of his dead liege. The hour was late and the Hall deserted. Kieron knelt, suddenly filled with sadness. He was on his way to rebellion against the Empire that he had helped this stern-faced man to expand and hold — rebellion against the power of Imperial Earth, personified by the weak-faced boy standing draped in the sable mantle of sovereignty in the next niche. Kieran looked from father to son. By its composure and its nearness to the magnetic features of the great Gilmer, the face of young Toran seemed to draw character and strength. It was an illusion, Kieron knew.
The young Valkyr felt driven hard. His people hungered. Military service was no longer enough for the Imperial Government as it had been for decades. Money was demanded, and there was no — money on Valkyr. So the people hungered — and Kieron was their lord. He could, not stand by and see the agony on the faces of his warrior maids as their children weakened, nor could he see his proud warriors selling themselves into slavery for a handful of coins. The Emperor would not listen. Kieron had recourse only to the one thing he knew.. the sword.
He bowed his head and asked the shade of Gilmer for forgiveness.
A slight movement caught his battle-sharpened eye as someone stirred behind a fluted column. Kieron's sword whispered as it slid from the scabbard, the gemmed hilt casting shards of light into the dimness of the colonnade.
Treading softly, Kieron eased his tall frame into the shadows, weapon alert. The thought of assassination flashed across his mind and he smiled grimly. Could it be that Landor had his hirelings after him already?
Kieron saw the shadowy shape slip from the colonnade out onto the great curving terrace that bordered the entire west wing of the Palace. Eyes narrowed under his black brows, the lord of Valkyr followed.
The stars gleamed in the moonless night, and far below, Kieron could see the flickering torchlights of the Imperial City fanning out to the horizon like the spokes of some fantastic, glittering wheel. The dark figure ahead had vanished.
Kieron sheathed his sword and drew his poniard. It was far too dark for swordplay, and he did not wish to risk letting the assassin escape. Melting into the shadows of the colonnade again, he made his way parallel to the terrace, alert for any sign of movement. Presently, the figure appeared again beside the balustrade, and the Valkyr moved swiftly and quietly up behind. With a cat-like movement, he slipped his free arm about the slight shape, pulling it tight against himself. The poniard flashed in his upraised hand, the slender blade reflecting the starlight.
The weapon did not descend…
Against his forearm, Kieron felt a yielding softness, and the hair that brushed his cheek was warm and perfumed.
He stood transfnxed. The girl twisted in his grasp and broke free with a gasping cry. Instantly, a blade gleamed in her hand and she had launched herself at the Valkyr furiously. Her voice was tight with rage.
"Murdering butcher! You dare…!"
Kieron caught her upraised arm and wrenched the dagger from her grasp. She clawed at him, kicking, biting, but never once calling aloud for aid. At last Kieron was able to pin her to a column with his weight, and he held her there, arms pinioned to her sides.
"You hellcat!" he muttered against her hair. "Who are you?"
"You know well enough, you murdering lackey! Why don't you kill me and go collect your pay, damn you!" gritted the girl furiously. "Must you manhandle me too?"
Kieron gasped. "I kill you!" He caught the girl's hair and pulled her head back so that her features would catch the faint glow of light from the city below. "Who are you, hell-cat?"
The light outlined his own features and the Arms of Valkyr on the cHasp of his cloak at his throat. The girl's eyes widened. Slowly the tenseness went out of her and she relaxed against him.
"Kieron! Kieron of Valkyr!"
Kieron was still alert for some trick. Landor could have hired a female assassin just as well as a man.
"You know me?" he asked cautiously.
"Know you!" She laughed suddenly, and it was a silvery sound in the night. "I loved you… beast!"
"By the Seven Hells, you speak in riddles! Who are you?" the Valkyr demanded irritably.
"And I thought you had come to kill me," mused the girl in self-reproach. "My own Kieron!"
"I'm not your Kieron or anyone else's, Lady," said Kieron rather stiffly, "and you'd better explain why you were watching me in the Hall of Emperors before I'll let you go."
"My father warned me that you would forget me. I did not think you would be so cruel," she taunted.
"I knew your father?"
"Well enough, I think."
"I've had a hundred wenches — and known some of their fathers, too. You can't expect me to.."
"Not this wench, Valkyr!" the girl exploded furiously. The tone carried such command that Kieron involuntarily stepped back, but still keeping the girl's, hands pinned to her sides.
"If you had spoken so on Kaidor, I'd have had the skin stripped from your back, outworld savage!" she cried.
Kaidor! Kieron felt the blood drain away from his face. This, then, was. . Alys.
"Ha! So you remember now! Kaidor you can recall, but you have forgotten me! Kieron, you always were a beast!"
Kieron felt a smile spreading across his face. It was good to smile again. And it was good to know that Alys
was. . safe.
"Highness…"
"Don't 'Highness' me!"
"Alys, then. Forgive me. I could not have known you. After all it has been eight years.. "
"And there have been a hundred wenches. ." mimicked the girl angrily.
Kieron grinned. "There really haven't been that many. I boasted."
"Any would be too many!"
"You haven't changed, Alys, except that you…"
"Have grown so? Spare me that!" She glared at him, eyes flaming in the shadows. Then suddenly she was laughing again, a silvery laugh that hung like a bright thread in the soft tapestry of night sounds. "Oh, Kieron, It ts good to see you again!"
"I thought to hear from you, Alys, when we reached Earth — but there was nothing. No word of any kind. I was told you were in seclusion still mourning Gilmer."
Alys bowed her head. "I will never stop mourning him." title looked up, her eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears. "Nor will you. I saw you kneeling inside. I thought then Mat it might be you. No one kneels to Gilmer now but the old comrades." She walked to the balustrade and stood leoking out over the lights of the Imperial City. Kieron watched the play of emotions over her face, caught suddenly by her beauty.
"I tried to reach you, Kieron — tried hard. But my servants have been taken from me since I was caught spying on Ivane. And I'm kept under cover now, permitted out onHy after dark — and then only on the Palace grounds. Ivane has convinced Toran that I'm dangerous. The peopHe like me because I was father's favorite. My poor stupid little brother! How that woman rules him.. I"
Kieron was aghast. "You spied on Ivane? In heaven's name, why?"
"That woman is a born plotter, Kieron. She isn't satisfied with a Consort's coronet. She's brewing something. I Emissaries have come to her from certain of the star-kings and others. ."
"Others?"
Alys' voice was hushed. "A warlock, Kieron! He has been seeing Ivane privately for more than a year. An awful man!"
Superstition stirred like a quickening devil inside the Valkyr. The shuddering horror of the dark and bloody tales he had heard all his life about the warlocks who clung to the knowledge of the Great Destroyer rose like a wave of blackness within him.
Alys felt the same dark tide rising in her. She moved closer to Kieron, her slim body trembling slightly against his. "The people would tear Ivane to pieces if they knew," she whispered.
"You saw this warlock?" asked Kieron sick with dread. Alys nodded soundlessly.
Kieron fought down his fears and wondered uneasiHy what Ivane's connection could be with such a pariah. The warlocks and witches were despised and feared above all other creatures in the Galaxy.
"His name?" Kieron asked.
"Geller. Geller of the Marshes. It is said that he is a conjurer of devils. . and that he can create homunculi! Out of the very filth of the marches! Oh, Kieron!" Alys shuddered.
An awful plan was forming in Kieron's mind. He was thinking that Ivane must be stripped of the spells and powers of this devil-man. With such powers at her command there might be nothing impossible of attainment. Even the crown of the Imperium itself…
"Where," Kieron asked slowly, "can this warlock be found?"
"On the street of the Black Flame, in the city of Neg on Kalgan."
"Kalgan!" Kieron's heart contracted. Was there a connection? Kalgan! What had Ivane to do with that lonely planet beyond the dark veil of the Coalsack? Was it coincidence? Out of all the thousands of worlds in space.. Kalgan.
"Is there something wrong, Kieron? You know this man?"
Kieron shook his head. It had suddenly become more than imperative that he go to Kalgan. The mystery of the Imperial Consort's connection with a warlock of Kalgan must be unraveled. And the star-kings were gathering..
The Valkyr was suddenly taken with a new and different fear. If Alys had spied on Ivane, then she must be in danger here. Ivane would never tolerate interference with her plans from Gilmer's daughter.
"Alys, are you a prisoner here?"
"More, I'm afraid," the girl said sadly. "I'm a reminder to Toran of the days of our father. One that he would like to eliminate, I think."
Kieron studied her in the starlight. His eyes sought the thick golden hair that brushed her shoulders, the glittering metallic skirt that hung low on her hips, outlining the slim thighs. He watched the graceful line of her unadorned throat, the bare shoulders and breasts, the small waist, the flat, firm stomach — all revealed by the studied nakedness of the fashions of the Inner Marches. This was no child. The thought of her in danger shook him badly.
"Toran would not dare harm you, Alys," said Kieron uncertainly. There had been a time when he could have said such a thing with perfect assurance, but since the death of Gilmer, the Imperial City was like an over-civilized jungle — full of beasts of prey.
"No, Toran wouldn't. . alone," said Alys; "but there are Ivane and Landor." She laughed, suddenly gay; her eyes, seeking Kieron's, were shining. "But not now! You are here, Kieron!"
The Valkyr felt his heart contract. "Alys," he said softly, "I leave Earth tonight. For Kalgan."
"For Kalgan, Kieron?" Alys' eyes widened. "To seek that warlock?"
"For another reason, Alys." Kieron paused uneasily. It was hard to speak to Gilmer of Kaidor's daughter about rebellion. Yet he could not lie to her. He temporized.
"I have business with the lord of Kalgan," he said.
Alys' face was shadowed and her voice when she spoke was sad. "Do the star-kings gather, Kieron? Have they had all they can stand of Toran's foolish rule?"
Kieron nodded wordlessly.
The girl flared up with a sudden imperious anger. "That fool! He is letting the favorites drive the Empire to ruin!" She looked up at Kieron pleadingly. "Promise me one thing, Kieron."
"If I can."
"That you will not commit yourself to any rebellion until we have spoken again."
"Alys, I.."
"Oh, Kieron! Promise me! If there is no other way, then fight the Imperial House. But give me one chance to save what my father and his father died for…!"
"And mine," added Kieron somberly.
"You know that if there is no other way, I won't try to dissuade you. But while you are on Kalgan, I'll speak to Toran. Please, Kieron, promise me that Valkyr will not rebel until we have tried everything." Her eyes shone with passion. "Then if it comes to war, I'll ride by your side!"
"Done, Alys," said Kieron slowly. "But take care when you speak to Toran. Remember there is danger here for you." He wondered briefly what Freka the Unknown would think of his sudden reluctance to commit the hundred spaceships and five thousand warriors of Valkyr to the coming rebellion. A thought struck him and quickly he discarded it. For just an instant he had wondered if Geller of the Marshes and the mysterious Freka the Unknown might be the same. . Stranger things had happened. But Alys had described Geller as old, and Freka was known to be a six-and-one-half foot warrior, the perfect "type" of the star-king caste.
"One thing more, Alys," Kieron said; "I will leave one of my vessels here for your use. Nevitta and a company will remain, too. Keep them by you. They will guard you with their lives." He slipped his arm about her, holding her to him.
"Nevitta?" Alys said with a slow smile. "Nevitta of the yellow braids and the great sword? I remember him."
"The braids are greying, but the sword is as long as ever. He can guard you for me, and keep you safe."
The girl's smile deepened at the words 'for me' but Kieron did not notice. He was deep in planning. "Be very careful, Alys. And watch out for Landor."
"Yes, Kieron," the girl breathed meekly. She looked up at the tall outworld warrior's face, lips parted.
But Kieron was looking up at the stars of the Empire, and there was uneasiness in his heart. He tightened his arm about Alys, holding her closer to him as though to protect her from the hot gaze of those fiery stars.