"Kieron!" Landor's face was grey.
The Valkyr advanced purposefully. "Yes, Landor! Kieron! I wasn't supposed to see you here, was I? And you don't dare raise an outcry or the others will see you, too! That would raise quite a smell in the Consort's pretty brew, wouldn't it?"
Landor shrank back, away from the gleaming blade in Kieron's hand.
"Draw, Landor," said Kieron softly. "Draw now, or I'll kill you where you stand."
In a panic, the First Lord of Space drew his sword. He knew himself to be no match for the Valkyr star-king, and at the first touch of blades, he turned and fled for the gate. He banged hard against the heavy panels. The gate was locked. Kieron followed him deliberately.
"Cry for help, Landor," Kieron suggested with a short, hard laugh. "The place is full of fighting men."
Landor was wild-eyed. "Why do you want to kill me, Kieron," he cried hoarsely; "what have I done to you...?"
"You've taxed my people and insulted me, and if that were not enough there would still be your treachery with Freka—tricking me and the others into rebellion so that Ivane can seize the crown! That's more than enough reason to kill you. Besides ..." Kieron smiled grimly, "I just don't like you, Landor. I'd enjoy spilling some of your milky blood."
"Kieron! I swear, Kieron...."