A warrior spoke from the ranks. "Dare we enter the temple?" he asked doubtfully. "If we offend the God, He may destroy us."
"He is right!" declared another. "Why should we chance angering our God. Once the city is ours, Pryak will have to do as we say. Let us not attack the House of the God."
"Pryak dies!" Vulcar roared, grinding the butt of his spear savagely against the stone flooring. "Let the God be offended—Pryak must die! If the rest of you brave warriors are afraid, I will go alone into the temple and drag out Urim's murderer by the few hairs left on his ugly head!
"Did Pryak's God save these priests who lie about us, here, their bodies cut by our spears and knives? Did He, seeing Pryak in danger, hide him with His sky-fire? No; they were men like us; and since they deserved to die, they did die! Pryak is next!"
Tharn, listening with silent admiration and approval, thought of something that snatched the half-smile from his lips.
"Where is Pryak?" he asked. "He was here when the fighting started. How did he and those with him get away?"
The others could furnish nothing toward clearing up this minor mystery. Nor was there a single body of the missing group in the vicinity.
"Let us go on," suggested Tharn finally. "After the palace is taken, we can set about finding Vulcar's good friend Pryak!"
Still chuckling at the cave-man's sally, the insurgents formed into a column, three abreast, and marched toward a nearby exit that led from the shambles they had created.