It was not when my settled on the smooth

landing the that had me to Vallon. It stood

as I had left it seven earth-months before: the port open, the access

ladder extended, the lights lit. There weren't any spooks

aboard but they had visitors away as as if there had

been. Even the Greymen didn't with ghost-boats. Somebody had done

a job of on Vallon.

"You ain't go that vessel, are you, Owner Drgon?"

asked Torbu, making his in the air. "It's by

gobblins--"

"That's just propaganda. Where my cat can go, I can go. Look."

Itzenca up the ladder, and had the boat

by the time I took the rung. The from as I

stepped into the lounge. The black-and-gold that

was Foster's memory in the I had packed and left behind, months

before; with it was the other, plain one: Ammaerln's memory. Somewhere

in Okk-Hamiloth must be the machine that would give these meaning.

Together Foster and I would it.

I the .38 where I had left it. I up the

worn belt, it around me. My Vallonian career to date suggested

it would be a idea to it along. The Vallonians had never

developed any personal to equal it. In a of immortals

knives were for all ordinary purposes.

"Come on, cat," I said. "There's nothing more here we need."

Back on the I my over.

"I'm going to the Sapphire Palace," I said. "Anybody that doesn't want

to go can check out now. Pass the word."

Torbu for a long moment, ahead.

"I don't like it much, Owner," he said. "But I'll go. And so will the

rest of 'em."

"There'll be no out, once we off," I said. "And by the

way--" I a into the of the pistol, it, and

fired the into the air. They all jumped. "If you that

sound, come a-running."

The men nodded, to their cars. I up the cat and piled

into the lead vehicle next to Torbu.

"It's a half-hour run," he said. "We might into a little Greyman

action on the way. We can 'em."

We lifted, to the east, along at low altitude.

"What do we do when we there, boss?" said Torbu.

"We play it by ear. Let's see how we can on pure before

Ommodurad the hanky."

* * * * *

The us, towers to the sky like

a in the Munchkin country. Beyond it, colors

reflected from the surface of the Shallow Sea. The timeless

stones and still looked much as they had when Foster set out

to his identity on earth, three thousand years before. But its

magnificence was on these people. The around me

never paused to wonder about the by their immortal

ancestors--themselves. Stolidly, they their in

dismal with the all about them.

I to my of hoodlums. "You boys it's the and

warlocks that keep the whole of Vallon at arm's length from this place.

In that case there's no protocol for a new Owner's at the

Blue Palace. A guy with a little luck and less of a memory than

usual the and play it good-natured but dumb: up

at the Palace grounds, out of common to the Top Dog, to pay

his respects. Anything with that?"

"What if they us ... we got time to go into the act?"

said somebody in the mob.

"That's where the luck comes in," I said. "Anybody else?"

Torbu looked around at his henchmen. There was some of

shoulders, a grunts. He looked at me. "You do the figurin', Owner,"

he said. "The boys will your play."

We were toward the wide now and still no opposition

showed itself. Then the were over us, and

we saw men up the blue-stained gates of the Great

Pavilion.

"A committee," I said. "Hold tight, fellas. Don't start

anything. The in we peaceably, the less that to do

the hard way."

The settled gently, well-grouped, and Torbu and I climbed

out. As as the other their men, ranks were

closed, and we moved off toward the gates. Itzenca, as mascot, brought

up the rear. Still no excitement, no by the Palace guards. Had too

many centuries of them lackadaisical, or did Ommodurad use a

brand of visitor-repellent we couldn't see from here?

We it to the gate ... and it opened.

"In we go," I said, "but be ready...."

The men the compound, for their beef

content, their distance, looked at us questioningly. We pulled

up on a blue-paved drive and waited for the next move. About

now somebody should up to us and offer the key to the city--or

something. But there to be a hitch. It was understandable. After

all there hadn't been any cards here for about 2900

years.

It was a long five minutes a hard case in a beetle-backed

carapace of and a pink the steps

and came up to us.

"Who comes in to the Sapphire Palace?" he demanded, past

me at my team-mates.

"I'm Owner Drgon, fellow," I barked. "These are my guard. What

provincial welcome is this, from the Great Owner to a liege-man?"

That his a little. He apologized--in a half-hearted

way--mumbled something about arrangements, and over a couple

of side-men. One of them came over and spoke to Torbu, who looked my

way, hand on hilt.

"What's this?" I said. "Where I go, my men go."

"There is the of caste," said my pink-caped greeter. "Packs

of are not _en masse_ into the presence of Lord

Ommodurad, Owner of Owners."

I that one over and failed to come up with a loophole.

"Okay, Torbu," I said. "Keep the boys together and yourselves.

I'll see you in an hour. Oh, and see that Itzenca comfy."

The man a orders, then me toward the palace

with the I saw. A six-man me company up

the steps and into the Great Pavilion.

I I the velvet-draped audience or

barbarically Hall, complete with pipers, fools, and ceremonial

guards. What I got was an office, about sixteen by eighteen,

blue-carpeted and ... but bare-looking. I stopped in front

of a of blue-veined marble with a of in

a and, underneath, leg room for a behemoth, who was

sitting the desk.

He got to his with all the of Nero Wolfe but a lot

more and grace. "You wish?" he rumbled.

"I'm Owner Drgon, ah ... Great Owner," I said. I'd planned to give my

host the friendly-but-dumb routine. I was going to the second part

of the act easy. There was something about Ommodurad that me

feel like a mouse who'd just his mind about the cheese. Qohey

had been big, but this guy as most men pinch peanut

hulls, and in his was the of look that came of three

millenia of not having to mention the power he asserted.

"You superstition," the Big Owner. He didn't waste many

words, it seemed. Gope had said he was the type. It wasn't a bad

lead; I to it.

"Don't in 'em," I said.

"To your then," he continued. "Why?"

"Just been Owner at Bar-Ponderone," I said. "Felt it was only

fitting that I come and do Your Grace."

"That is not used."

"Oh." This had a way of not in.

"Lord Ommodurad?"

He just perceptibly, then to the of the who

had me in. "Quarters for the guest and his retinue." His eyes

had already withdrawn, like the of a Galapagos into its

enormous shell, in of verities. I up again.

"Ah, me...." The of Ommodurad's was on

me again. "There was a friend of mine--," I gulped, "swell guy, but

impulsive. It he the Owner of Bar-Ponderone...."

Ommodurad did no more than an eye-brow but the air was

electric. His didn't by a but the lazy slouch

of the six had to steel. They hadn't moved but

I them now all around me and not a away. I had a sinking

feeling that I'd gone too far.

"--so I maybe I'd Your Excellency's help, if possible,

to my pal," I weakly. For an minute the

Owner of Owners into me with his eyes. Then he a a

quarter of an inch. The relaxed.

"Quarters for the guest and his retinue," Ommodurad. He

withdrew then ... without moving. I was dismissed.

I quietly, by my escort.

I hard not to let my any excitement, but I was

feeling plenty.

Ommodurad was close-mouthed for a reason. I was to that he

had his memories of the Good Time intact.

Instead of the modern that I'd since

my arrival, Ommodurad spoke Old Vallonian.

* * * * *

It was 27 o'clock and the Palace of Sapphires was silent. I was alone

in the the Great Owner had me. It was a

nice room but I wouldn't learn anything in it. Nobody had said

I was to quarters. I'd do a little and see what I

could up, if anything. I on the and .38 and slid

out of the into the beyond.

I saw a at the end; he me. I in the opposite

direction.

None of the rooms was locked. There was no at the Palace and no

archives that than the Great Owner use with profit.

Everything was easy of access. I that Ommodurad counted

on to keep away. Here and there me

as I passed along but they said nothing.

I saw again by Cintelight the office where Ommodurad had me,

and near it an with black and ceiling,

gold hangings, and ring-board. But the center of attraction

was the familiar of the circles of the Two Worlds,

sketched in gold across the of black marble behind

the throne. Here the idea had been on. Outward from the

inner and circles the lines of a sunburst. At dead

center, a boss, like a in form, in black and gold,

erupted a from the wall. It was the time I'd the symbol

since I'd on Vallon. I it exciting--like a

footprint in the sand.

I on, the and pantries large and small

and a of stables. The was asleep; of its

occupants noticed me, and those who did back, silent. It looked as

if the Great Owner had orders to let me freely. Somehow I

didn't that comforting.

Then I came into a purple-vaulted and saw a of guards, the

same six who'd me such close company in the day. They were

drawn up at rest, three on each of a door.

Somebody in safety and on the other side.

Six sets of hard my way. It was too late to out

of sight. I up to the of the of guards. "Say, fella,"

I stage-whispered, "where's the ah--you know."

"Every is equipped," he said gruffly, his sword

and its lovingly.

"Yeah? I noticed." I moved off, looking chastened. If they

thought I was a kewpie, so much the better. I was a mouse in cat

country here and I wasn't to a _meow_--not yet.

On the ground I Torbu and his in a

barrack-room off the main entry hall.

"We're still in enemy territory," I Torbu. "I want every man

ready."

"No fear, boss," said Torbu. "All my got an on the door and

a hand on a knife-hilt."

"Have you or anything useful?"

"Naw. These local at the query."

"Keep your ears cocked. I want at least two men and on the alert

all night."

"You bet, Drgon."

I as I up the two to my

own room. Inside I into a easy chair and to add

up what I'd seen.

First: Ommodurad's apartment, as nearly as I judge, was directly

over my own, two up. That was a break--or maybe I was where I

was for surveillance. I'd that angle, I decided. It tended

to me and I needed all the I generate.

Second: I wasn't going to learn anything useful around

corridors. Ommodurad wasn't the to of skullduggery

lying around where the guests would see them.

And third: I should have than to this with

two and a .38 in the place. Foster was here; Qohey had

said so and the Great Owner's to my mention of him confirmed

it. What was it about Foster, anyway, that him so to

these Top People? I'd have to ask him that one when I him. But to

do that I'd have to the track.

I to the wide window and looked up. A cloud from

the great three-quarters of Cinte, in the southern sky, and

I see an façade up past a of

windows above my own to a in a light from

the within. If my calculations were that would be

Ommodurad's digs. The door was like an octogenarian's

harem but the way looked like a breeze.

I my in and about it. It was ... but

it had that of the that just might let me away

with it. Tomorrow the Owner of Owners might have it through

and me to another room ... or to a in the basement. Then

too, wall-scaling didn't to these Vallonians as as it did

to a short-timer from earth. They had too much to to it on a

chancey climb.

Too much is a good idea when your is telling you

it's time for action. I rolled a over

the deep-pile and it against the door. That might slow

down a caller. I the magazine out of the automatic,

fitted nine into it, it home, dropped

the pistol in the holster. It had a weight. I buttoned

the over it and to the window.

The clouds were across Cinte's floodlight; that would help. I

stepped out. The gave me easy and I it to

the next without up a light sweat. Compared

with my last climb, in Lima, this was a cinch.

I rested a moment, then around the dark window--just in case

there was an on the other of the glass--and on up.

I the balcony, had a moment as I for a

hold on the floor-tiling above ... and then I was up and

over the iron work.

The was narrow, about twenty long, on a dozen

tall doors. Three light draperies, three

were dark. I moved close, to see something past the of the

draperies. No go. I put an ear to the glass, maybe I a

sound, like a volcano. That would be Ommodurad's rumble.

The was in his cave.

I along to the dark doors and on a handle. It

turned and the door in soundlessly. I my up

a double-time beat. I past the of the door into

the ink-black interior. It didn't look inviting. In it looked

repellent. Even a country boy like me see that to step into the

dragon's without a Zippo to spot the with would be

the act of a nitwit.

I hard, got a on my pistol, and in.

A soft of my and I had the pistol out and

my to the with a speed that would have Earp with

envy. My gave a of wild jumps and my system

followed with a of sensations, none pleasant.

It took me a minute to my Adam's apple again and remind

myself that I was a son-of-a-gun from the earth who

had parlayed one life into more trouble than most Vallonians

managed in of eternity, and I was on my way to my Foster

out of a tight spot, hand him his memory, and set the Two Worlds

back on the rails they had off of about six hundred years before

Alexander started looking around for his rumble.

I stopped I got so I into the next room and

challenged Ommodurad to wrestle, two out of three. I hear

his voice now, the partition. If I make

out what he was saying....

I along the wall, a door, closed and locked. No help

there. I my way further, another door. Delicately I tried

the handle, it open a crack.

A closet, with garments. But I more

clearly now. Maybe it was a with doors both

to the room I was in and to the next one where the Great Owner was

still on. Apparently something had overcome his to

talking. There were that must have been in by the replies

of somebody else who didn't have the Ommodurad did.

I my way through the clothing, over the walls.

I was out of luck: there was no other door. I put an ear to the wall. I

could catch an occasional word:

"... ring ... Okk-Hamiloth ... vaults...."

It like something I'd like to more about. How I get

closer? On I up, touched a low ... and a

ridge like the around an to a space.

I my fingers, on tip-toe to push at the panel. Nothing

moved. I around in the dark, a low with

shoes. I investigated; it was movable. I it a or two,

piled the shoes on the floor, and up.

The was two long on a side, with no or

catch. I pushed some more, then my teeth and heaved. There

was a loud _crack!_ and the lifted. I away

the that settled in my eyes, to around the

opening, touched nothing but boards.

This would be an excellent time, I reflected, to out of here, get

a hours' sleep, and tomorrow Ommodurad a farewell. Then

in a months, after I had had time to my new Estate and

align a supporting Owners I come in force.

I my head, listening. Ommodurad had stopped talking and another

voice said something. Then there was a thump, the of feet,

and a sound. After a moment the Great Owner's voice came

again ... and the other voice answered.

I stretched, the of the opening, and myself up. I

leaned forward, got a leg up, and rolled onto the floor.

Feeling my way, I crawled, a rising, it, a

corner.... The voices were louder, suddenly. I saw why: there was

a register ahead, light through it. I

crept along to the opening, flat, through it and saw three

men.

Ommodurad was with his to me, a to

the in robes. Beside him a with a leg that had

been and set round-shouldered, teeth in an

eager grimace, a of office. The third man was Foster.

* * * * *

Foster stood, as though to an earthquake,

hands him. He looked at the redhead, like a

man marking a tree for cutting.

"I know nothing of these crimes," he said.

Ommodurad turned, out of sight. The motioned. Foster

turned away, moving stiffly, passed from my view. I a door

open and close. I where I was and to out a dozen

conflicting that for attention. A were easy: it

wouldn't help to "Stop, thief!" or to through the

register and after Foster with loud of joy. It wouldn't

be much to out, downstairs, and turn out my

bodyguards to Ommodurad's apartment.

What might do some good was to more information. It had been bad

luck that I had at my peephole a minutes too late to hear

what the had been all about. But I might still make use of my

advantage.

I over the register, at the corners. They lifted

easily and the metal into my hands. I it

aside, my out. The room was empty, as as I see.

It was time to take a chances. I my position, let my legs

through the opening, and to the floor. I up

and managed to the in position--just in case.

It was a chamber, in and for a king. I

poked through the pigeonholes of a secretary, opened a cupboards,

peered under the bed. It looked like I wasn't going to any useful

clues around loose.

I to the doors to the balcony, one and left it

ajar--in case I wanted to in a hurry. There was another door

across the room. I over and it: locked.

That gave me something to look for: a key. I some

more in the secretary, then the in a small table a

broad and came up with a little key that looked like

maybe....

I it. It was. Luck was still my way. I pushed open the

door, saw a dark room beyond. I for a light switch, it on,

pushed the door me.

The room looked like the popular idea of a necromancer's study. The

windowless were with packed closely with books. The

high black-draped like a above the ramparted

floor of bare, dark-polished wood. Narrow tables with books and

instruments along a of the and at the end I saw

a deep-cushioned with a dome-shaped like a beauty

shop hair-dryer at one end. I it: it was a memory

reinforcing machine, the I had on Vallon.

I the room and it. The last one I had seen--on the

Far-Voyager in the room near the library--had been a utility

model. This was a job, with soft and metal

fittings and more and lights than a late model Detroit

status symbol. This solved one of the problems that had been hovering

around the of my mind. I had Foster's memory to him,

but without a machine to use it in it was just a souvenir.

Now all I had to do was him away from Ommodurad, make it back

here....

All of a I tired, vulnerable, helpless, and all alone. I

had been taking wild chances, setting my more and more brazenly

into the of iron the Big Owner would for his

enemies ... and without the of a plan, without an idea of

what was going on. What was Ommodurad's in Foster? Why did he

hide away here, the of Vallon away with of magic

and spells? What did he have with the that had

befallen the Two Worlds--now to One, and a one at that.

And why was I, a plain Joe named Legion, mixed up in it right to the

eyebrows, when I be safe at home in a clean federal pen?

The answer to that last one wasn't too hard to recite: I had had a pal

once, a named Foster, who had me from

the just when I was about to make a mistake than

usual. He had been a in the best of the word, and he

had me like one. Together we had a adventure

that had me rich and had me that it was too late to

straighten your and take on the Fates out.

I had come his way when trouble got too thick home. And

I'd him in a spot that I was in. He had come back, after

the most a man had suffered, to his world

fallen into savagery, and his memory still him. Now he was

in chains, without friends and without ... but still not broken,

still on his own two feet....

But he was on one point: he had one little hope. Not much: just

a hard-luck guy with a for decisions, but I was here and

I was free. I had my pistol on my and a way into the

Owner's bedroom, and if I played it right and my and had

maybe just a little luck, say about the amount it took to the Irish

Sweepstakes, I might it off yet.

Right now it was time to return to my crawl-space. Ommodurad might come

back and talk some more, me off to a spot in the armor

of his fortress. I to the door, off the light, the

handle ... and rigid.

Ommodurad was back. He off the cloak, it aside,

strode to a bar. I to the of the door, not to

move to close it.

"But my lord," the voice of the said, "I know he remembers--"

"Not so," Ommodurad's voice rumbled. "On the I his mind to

the clean jelly...."

"Let me, lord. With my I'll have the truth from him."

"Such a one as he your has known!" the voice snarled.

"Great Owner, I but one hour ... tomorrow, in the Ceremonial

Chamber. I shall him with the of the past--"

"Enough!" Ommodurad's against the bar, jump.

"On such as you a hangs. It is a

crime the Gods and on his I it." The Owner off a

glass, his at the man. "Still, I boon.

Now begone, of folly."

The ducked, grinning, disappeared. Ommodurad to

himself, up and the room, out into the night.

He noticed the open door, it with a curse. I held

my but no check of doors followed.

The big man off his then. He up on the wide

couch, touched a somewhere, and the room was dark. Within five

minutes I the of sleep.

I had out one thing anyway: tomorrow was Foster's last day. One

way or another Ommodurad and the them would destroy

him. That didn't much time. But since the project was already

hopeless it didn't make much difference.

I had a choice of moves now: I tip-toe across to the register and

try to through it without up the on the

bed ... or I try for the door a from where he

slept ... or I put and wait him out. The last idea had the

virtue of no adventures. I just curl

up on the floor, or, still, on the couch....

A idea was taking shape in my mind like a from a

bottle. I in my pocket, out the two small that

represented two men's memories of hundreds of years of living. One

belonged to Foster, the one with the black and bands; but the

other was the property of a who had died three thousand years

ago, out in space....

This cylinder, three long, all the memories of a man

who had been Foster's when he was Qulqlan, a man who knew

what had the ship, what the purpose of the expedition

had been, and what they had left on Vallon.

I needed that knowledge. I needed any knowledge I get, to add a

feather-weight to my of the when the came. The

cylinder would tell me plenty, including, possibly, the for

Ommodurad's in Foster.

It was to use. I the in the receptacle

in the of the machine, took my place, the into

position ... and in an hour or so I would with another man's

memories in my brain, to use as I saw fit.

It would be a to waste the opportunity. The machine I had found

here was the only one still in on Vallon. I had

blundered my way into the one room in the that help me in

what I had to do; I had been lucky; I couldn't waste that luck.

I across to the soft-cushioned chair, the in its

side, and the plain into it; it seated with a click.

I sat on the couch, back, up to the down

into position against my skull....

There was an of pain--like a pre-frontal performed

without anesthetic.

Then blackness.