He swung abruptly to the old man.
"You, Grandfather! Would you not wish to be young again—to ride out to battle, to take the woman of your choice?"
The old man wailed, "Yes! Yes!" and his gaze dwelt hungrily upon the boy.
"And you shall be!" The strength of a god rang in Kynon's voice. He turned again to the crowd and cried out,
"For years I suffered in the desert alone, searching for the lost secret of the Ramas. And I found it, my brothers! I hold their ancient power. I alone—in these two hands I hold it, and with it I shall begin a new era for our Dryland races!
"There will be fighting, yes. There will be bloodshed. But when that is over and the men of Kesh and Shun are free from their ancient bondage of thirst and the men of the Low-Canals have regained their own—then I shall give new life, unending life, to all who have followed me. The aged and lamed and wounded can choose new bodies from among the captives. There will be no more age, no more sickness, no more death!"
A rippling, shivering sigh from the crowd. Eyeballs gleaming in the bitter light, mouths open on the hunger that is nearest to the human soul.
"Lest anyone still doubt my promise," said Kynon, "watch. Watch—and I will show you!"
They watched. Not stirring, hardly breathing, they watched.