well what I asked, my sister. In fact, the task did not seem distasteful to you."
"Perhaps not," Yala said* with a soft laugh. "Fool he may be, but this man is—different. Until he and his men ride with your forces to Dordona four days hence, I think to find him amusing."
"That is your affair," Thargo said indifferently. "Best get him back to his chambers now before his men miss him. Shama and I return to the feast."
Clark heard the ruthless plotter and the aged counsellor leave. Then Yala bent over him, holding a pungent liquid to his nose and shaking him softly.
"Wake, lord from outside," she said tenderly. "You must not stay here longer—my brother would be angry."
Clark was careful to awake slowly, blinking and rubbing his eyes dazedly. "More wine," he muttered thickly. "Got to have more wine—so I can tell you—how beautiful you are——"
"You shall have opportunity for that in the next few days," Yala promised with a provocative smile. "You had best return to your chambers now and sleep, my lord. It seems that you are almost overcome by my beauty—or the wine!"
She went to the door and called, as Clark stumbled to his feet. A warrior in the crimson armor answered quickly.
"This soldier will conduct you to your chambers," Yala told him. "Until tomorrow, lord from outside."
Her fingers clung warmly to his in caressing promise. Clark nodded dazedly and staggered out into the hall. He stumbled with his guide by shadowy, torchlit corridors, up a stair to the upper floor. The warrior took him to the door of their chambers, bowed and left.
But Clark's apparently owlish gaze took in the fact that now there were a score of armored guards posted unobtrusively along the corridor outside their chambers. That showed that Thargo was still taking no chances—and that was going to make things difficult.
Ephraim quell looked up in surprize when Clark stumbled into the torchlit rooms and slammed the door. Quell's eyes ran over Clark's disordered hair and flushed face, and the girl Lurain, sitting taut as a trapped tigress in a chair, watched with bitter contempt.
"There's a Book that says, 'Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging,'" twanged Quell, his bony face condemnatory. "Figger you might ought to have read that, before you went down there."
"I'm not drunk," Clark rasped. "But I've found out a lot and it adds up to the total news that our lives are not worth a plugged nickel if we stay around here."
Quell jumped to his feet in alarm.
"Go down and get the others up here," Clark told him. "Don't appear too urgent about it—but get them!"
Ephraim Quell nodded tightly, and went out of the room. Clark Stannard went rapidly across the room to Lurain.
Clark's mind, racing at top speed ever since he had discovered Thargo's contemplated treachery, had hit upon a desperate plan. It was a hazardous one but the only one, as far as he could see, that would give him and his men a chance to reach the Lake of Life now.
To stay longer in K'Lamm would merely allow Thargo to make pawns of them and then kill them. There was but one other possible course of action by which they might win to the lake.
Lurain's blue eyes blazed hatred as Clark approached. To her amazement, he cut her bonds.
"Lurain, I must talk with you and talk fast," he said swiftly. "I've discovered that Thargo intends to kill me and my men, as soon as we've helped him conquer your city of Dordona."
"I am glad!" she blazed. "Now you
