"Of course I will support you, sire, as long as I live and with all that in me lies. Since time first was my blood has been vassal to yours, and ever will be. My brain, my liver, and my heart are yours."
"I thank you, Lord Tedric. Proceed."
Tedric snapped to his feet. His sword flashed high in air. His heavy voice rang out.
"People of Lomarr, listen to a herald of the Throne! Sarpedion is dead; Llosir lives. Human sacrifice—yes, all sacrifice except the one I am about to perform, of Sarpedion himself to Llosir—is done. That is and will be the law. To that end there will be no more priests, but a priestess only. I speak as herald for the Throne of Lomarr!"
He turned to the girl, still clinging to his side. "I had it first in mind, Lady Rhoann, to make you priestess, but...."
"Not I!" she interrupted, vigorously. "No priestess I, Lord Tedric!"
"By Llosir's brain, girl, you're right—you've been wasted long enough!"
In another time-track another Skandos and another Furmin, almost but not quite identical with those first so named, pored over a chronoviagram.
"The key point in time is there," the Prime Physicist said, thoughtfully, placing the point of his pencil near one jagged peak of the trace. "The key figure is Lord Tedric of Lomarr, the discoverer of the carburization of steel. He could be manipulated very easily ... but, after all, the real catastrophe is about three hundred eighteen years away; there is nothing alarming about the shape of the curve; and any interference with the actual physical events of the past would almost certainly prove calamitous. Over the years I have found your judgment good. What is your thought on this matter, Furmin?"