"To begin with," Tharn said, "it would be wise to have three or four more hear my plan. They in turn can pa.s.s the details on to the rest of the prisoners. Those across the hall must be included, and I have an idea how that can be arranged. We shall need every man we can get."

Vulcar said, "Let me pick the four."

Soon the former captain was back, his selections close at his heels.

Tharn and Katon rose to meet them.

"These are good men," Vulcar said. "I know them all. They are ready to follow your lead.

"This one--" He indicated a short, squat man with heavy features and much coa.r.s.e hair on chest, legs and head, "--is Brutan. He likes to fight."

Unexpectedly Brutan grinned. "Yes," he said in a deep, harsh voice, "I like to fight. I will fight anybody. I will fight you!"

Tharn grinned back at him. There was something likeable about this rock-like Sepharian.

"This," continued Vulcar, "is Rotark. He is not afraid to die."

Rotark was tall and very thin, with a long, sorrowful face. "Why should I be afraid?" he asked in lugubrious tones. "There is no pleasure in living. Soon we shall all be dead."

Next, Vulcar jerked a thumb toward a young, very handsome warrior whose tunic was amazingly clean and spotless in contrast to those of the others. His thick blond hair was neatly pushed back from a high, rounded forehead.

"He is Gorlat," said Vulcar. "He does not like to fight, but will do so to keep from being killed. Few men are his equal with a knife."

The blond young man smiled but said nothing.

"Brosan, here, you already know."

Tharn nodded. He remembered that pock-marked face, as well as the unconcerned grin exposing yellowed, broken teeth.

The cave-man came directly to the point.

"We are supposed to die in the arena for the amus.e.m.e.nt of Pryak and the people of Sephar. To me, that seems wrong. It would be better if Pryak and his priests were the ones to die.

"I think that can be arranged. Listen, and when I am done, let me know what you think of my plan."

They listened closely and without interrupting. And while he awaited their reaction, they looked at one another in silence, while broad smiles began to steal across their faces. Even Rotark's lips twitched in approval.

"Good!" said Brutan the laconic.

"Even though we fail," said Rotark mournfully, "it is worth trying."

Gorlat said nothing, but his smile matched the brilliance of his hair.

Katon and Vulcar regarded the cave-man with respect, deeply impressed with the plan he had offered. They realized the force of this barbarian's personality--that intangible requisite of all who would be leaders--had grasped the imagination of these men, winning their loyalty and unstinted support.

"When shall we tell the others?" Brosan asked.

"Go among them now," Tharn advised. "Explain our plan briefly, but cover every point. Warn them not to chance arousing suspicion among the guards. Everything depends upon absolute secrecy."

It was on the following day that the great Games began.

When the door closed behind Tharn and Lodorth, a feeling of loneliness swept over the princess Alurna. She had come to regard the cave-man as her friend--perhaps the only friend left to her in all Sephar. She glanced fearfully at the face of the high-priest and found nothing there to rea.s.sure her.

Pryak's expression was stern; but that sternness was a mask to hide an inner perturbation. For there had come to him the realization that in this frail girl lay a vital threat to his newly won power.

He silently cursed his stupidity in receiving her so ungraciously, and silently he thanked his G.o.d that he had been prevented from actually striking the princess.

Alurna, he remembered, was more than Urim's daughter; she was niece to the most powerful figure of the known world--Jaltor, king of far-off Ammad, and commander of the greatest force of fighting-men ever a.s.sembled. Urim had been Jaltor's brother....

Eventually, Jaltor would learn of his brother's death. As a statesman and ruler, he would understand that Urim's pa.s.sing was incidental to a change in power and one of the hazards of kinghood.

It was not likely, however, that Jaltor would regard in a similar light an overt slight or actual cruelty to a niece. As a possible threat to Pryak's position as king, Alurna was not to be considered; only a man could rule men. For that reason alone, the high priest had no valid excuse to do her harm.

His course, then, was plain; every effort must be made to win this girl into regarding him as a friend, lest word reach Jaltor that his niece was a mistreated prisoner in Sephar.

The chill faded from Pryak's expression like snow under a hot sun. "I have been wrong, princess," he admitted, with pa.s.sable humbleness. "As Urim's daughter, you are ent.i.tled to every respect and honor. From now on you may depend on being accorded both."

Alurna could hardly believe her ears. What had come over this old man, to change him so quickly and completely?

Her response was instant and characteristic. "I want nothing from you, priest!" she snapped.

Pryak lost his smile, but none of his urbanity. He beckoned to a nearby attendant. "Escort the princess to her rooms," he instructed. "See to it that her every wish is obeyed."

When Alurna had gone, a thoughtful Pryak dropped onto his stool across from Orbar and pursed his lips reflectively.

"There must be some way to dispose of her," he said, "without incurring the wrath of Jaltor."

Orbar grinned evilly. "A knife in the dark...." He let his voice trail off meaningly.

"You are a fool!" growled the new king. "Her uncle and his men would be at our gates within two moons. I dare not risk--"

He broke off as an under-priest came hurriedly from across the room and bowed before him.

"What is it, Baltor?"

"The three n.o.bles of Ammad are here, asking that you see them."

Pryak sighed. Here were others he must treat with deference, lest his failure to do so cause international complications. He was beginning to understand that even an all-powerful monarch must recognize the importance of individuals other than himself. He felt vaguely distressed....

"Bring them to me, here," he said.

A moment later Jotan, Tamar and Javan approached the seated men and bent their heads in formal recognition.

"How may I, king of Sephar and Voice of the G.o.d, serve our n.o.ble visitors?" asked the arch-priest loftily.