"Savage enough to be loyal and worthy of any trust," said Kieron; "but you would know nothing of that."
Landor ignored the thrust. "Where do you go now, Valkyr?"
"Off-world."
"Of course," Landor smiled thinly, his eyebrows arching over pale, shrewd eyes. "Off-world."
Kieron felt a stab of suspicion. How much did Landor know? Had his spies pierced Freka the Unknown's counter-espionage cordon and brought word of the star-kings gathering on Kalgan?
"It cannot concern you where I go now, Landor," said Kieron grimly. "You've won here. But...." Kieron stepped a pace nearer the resplendent favorite. "Warn your tax-gatherers to go armed when they land on Valkyr. Well armed, Landor."
Kieron turned on his heel and strode out of the antechamber, his booted heels staccato on the flagstones, silver cape flaunting like a proud banner.
II
Past the tall arch of the Emperor's antechamber lay the Hall of the Thousand Emperors. Kieron strode through it, the flickering flames of the wall-sconces casting long shadows out behind him—shadows that danced and whirled on the tapestried walls and touched the composed faces of the great men of Earth.