"You dare to bar the path to the Lord Ammaerln?" My voice slashed at the men. "Stand aside, as you value your lives."
And the body pushed past them, striding off along the corridor. It passed through a great archway, descended a flight of marble stairs, came along a hall I had seen on my tour of the Palace of Sapphires and into the Onyx Chamber with the great golden sunburst that covered the high black wall.
In the Great Owner's chair at the ring-board Ommodurad sat scowling at the lame courtier whose red hair was hidden now under a black cowl. Between them Foster stood, the heavy manacles dragging at his wrists. Ommodurad turned; his face paled, then flushed darkly. He rose, teeth bared.
The gaze of my eye fixed on Foster. Foster stared back, a look of incredulity growing on his face.
"My Lord Rthr," I heard my voice say. The eye swept down and fixed on the manacles. The body drew back a step, as if in horror.
"You overreach yourself, Ommodurad!" my voice cried harshly.
Ommodurad stepped toward me, his immense arm raised.
"Lay not a hand on me, dog of a usurper!" my voice roared out. "By the Gods, would you take me for common clay?"
And, unbelievably, Ommodurad paused, stared in my face.
"I know you as the upstart Drgon, petty Owner," he rumbled. "But I know I see another there behind your pale eyes."