Samlor slid the body back through the trap door, from whence its death hadsprung. He hoped the victim was not a friend of Hort; he sympathized with simplefolk looking for solace apart from the establishment of such as Lord Tudhaliya.But they had made their bed when they stole a child from the House of Kodrix.

The temple had been a single, circular room. It was roofless now, and its girdleof fluted columns had fallen; but the curtain wall within those columns stillstood to shoulder height or above. That wall had been constructed around onlythree-quarters of the circumference, however. A 90° arc looked out unimpeded onthe waters of the cove, which lapped almost to the building's foundations.

And out at the mouth of the cove, its hull black upon the phosphorescencethrough which sweeps drove it languidly, was a trawler. The vessel's sail wasfurled because of the breeze that began to push against the rising ride when theland cooled faster than the sea.

There were sounds outside the temple. Mice, perhaps, or dogs; or even trampslooking for at least the semblance of shelter.

More likely not. Nothing Hort had said suggested that the ceremony planned fortonight would be limited to the boatload who had carried Star to Death'sHarbour. Not all the Setmur would be involved, but at least a few others wouldslip in from the greater community. The tunnel was as good a hiding place ascould be found; and if the guard had been placed in the temple, it was at leastprobable that Star would be brought to it by her captors.

Samlor slipped back the way he had come. He set the tip of the Beysib bowbetween the edge of the trap door and its jamb. That wedged the door open acrack, through which Samlor could hear better and see; and be seen, but thelights would be dim against discovery, and the alcove was some protection aswell. Then Samlor waited, with a reptile's patience, and the chill certainty ofa reptile as well.

The firstcomers were blurs bringing no illumination at all. Shawls, pantaloonslike those the guard had worn, sweeping nervously through Samlor's field ofvision. They chattered in undertones. Occasionally someone raised a voice tocall what might have been a name: 'Shaushga!' The corpse stiffening at Samlor'sfeet made no reply.

Then a hull grated on the strand. There were more voices, and more of the voiceswere male. Water slopped between shore and hull as at least a dozen personsdropped over the trawler's gunwale. Then the temple floor rasped beneath thehorn-hard soles of barefooted fishermen. A tiny oil lamp gleamed like the sun tolight-starved eyes.

In the centre of the open room, a Beysib in red robes set down the burden hecarried. It was Star, had to be Star. She was dressed also in red. Her hair hadbeen plaited into short tendrils so that the blaze above her forehead seemed tohave eight white arms.

'I don't want to,' the child cried distinctly. 'I want to go to bed.' Sherefused to support herself with her legs, curling to the pavement when theBeysib set her down.

The man in red and a woman as nondescript as the others in a brown and blackshawl bent to the child. They spoke urgently and simultaneously in Beysib and amelange of local dialects. The latter were almost equally unintelligible toSamlor for the accent and poor acoustics. The man in red held Star by theshoulders, but he was coaxing rather than trying to force her to rise.

The trawler had been crabbed further into the cove so that Samlor could nolonger see it from his vantage point. The Cir-donian held his body in a state ofreadiness, but at not quite the bowstring tautness of the instant beforeslaughter. There would be slaughter, nothing could be more certain than that;but for the moment, Samlor continued to wait. There were ten, perhaps twenty,Beysib within the temple wall at the moment. Some of them were between Star andthe hidden door. That would not keep Samlor from striking if the need arose, butthere was at least a chance that some of those now milling in the room wouldspread out if the ceremony began.

Star had gotten to her feet. She was pouting in the brief glimpse Samlor had ofher face as she turned. He could not imagine how anyone had taken Star for themaid's daughter. Even the set other lips was a mirror of Samlane's.

The Beysib chattering ceased. Their feet brushed quickly to positions flankingthe temple opening. It was much as Samlor had hoped. Star stretched her handsout, palms forward, towards the cove. The man in red was still with her, but thewoman had joined the others just outside the building. Star began chanting in abored voice. The syllables were not in any language with which Samlor wasfamiliar. From the regularity of the sounds, it was possible that they were fromno language at all, merely forming a pattern to concentrate nonverbal portionsof the brain.

Samlor tensed. He had already chosen the spot through which his dagger wouldenter the kidneys of the man in red. Then, suddenly, Lord Tudhaliya's troopersswept into the gathering with cries of bloody triumph.

The security forces might have intended to take a few prisoners, but as Samlorbolted from his hiding place, he saw a woman cut in half. The trooper who killedher had a sword almost four feet long in the blade. His horizontal, two-handedcut took her in the small of the back and bisected her navel on the way out.

The troopers had approached dismounted, of course. Even so, they had shownabnormal skill for cavalrymen in creeping up among the ruins. There was no wayof telling how many of them there were, but it was certainly more than the squadthat had made the arrests that morning. Lights began to flare, dark lanternslike Samlor's own still hissing in the tunnel below.

The red-garbed Beysib bawled in horror and tried to enfold Star in his cloak, asif that would serve as any protection from what was about to happen. Samlorsmashed the Beysib down with the dagger's hilt to his forehead, not from mercy,but because the point might have caught and held the weapon for moments theCirdonian did not have to lose. Samlor grabbed the screaming child by theshoulder and spun for the tunnel mouth.

A Beysib cavalryman leaped from the crumbling wall. He was aiming a kick atSamlor's head.

The angle was different, but too many camels had launched feet at the caravanmaster for Samlor to be caught unprepared. The boot slashed by his ear as hepivoted. The Beysib's sword was cocked for a blow that the fellow had to holduntil he landed, or he risked lopping off his own feet. The long weapon didnothing to keep the Beysib's momentum from impaling him on the Cirdonian dagger.Samlor slipped the hilt as it punched home. He tossed Star to the trap door andrammed her through as he jumped in himself.

When Samlor tried to bang the stone door to, a Beysib sword shot through the gapand kept the edges from meeting. Instead of tugging against the springy steel,Samlor let the Beysib's own pull open'the trap again. Samlor lunged upwardthrough the opening. Before the sword could be transformed once more from a prybar into a weapon, the Cirdonian had buried his boot knife in the trooper'sthroat.

The sword dropped into the tunnel as Samlor shot the bolt which closed the door.The last thing the caravan-master had seen before stone met stone was the faceof Lord Tudhaliya turned to a fright mask by fury and speckles of blood. TheBeysib noble was lunging to take the place of his dying trooper. Hisoutstretched sword sang against the marble even as the bolt snicked home.

'Come on. Star, I'm your uncle!' Samlor shouted as he grabbed the nearesthandful of the child. He did not particularly care whether she obeyed or evenunderstood, for there was no time now to wait on a four-year-old's legs. He letthe Beysib sword lie, because he needed his right hand for the lantern. Itsunshuttered light seemed shockingly bright in the closeness. Samlor ran bentover, the girl under his arm as the cask had been when he came from the punt.