As the three of them entered the great Council Hall of the palace they found it filled with a jostling leaderless throng of Cupians.
Nan-nan mounted the rostrum and held up his hand. The crowd faced him and became silent.
“Patriots of Kuana,” he shouted, “I present to you your leader, Myles Cabot, the beast from Minos, protector of Cupia.”
Up shot every hand.
“Yahoo!” they radiated, in unison, the cheery Porovian greeting.
“And your rightful ruler, the Princess Lilla.”
Again the salute and the shout of greeting.
Cabot then joined the young priest upon the stage. In spite of his condition, there was a look in his cold gray eyes that inspired confidence and respect.
“Men of Cupia,” he said, “and I can call you by no more noble title—men of Cupia, to the northward lies our army of liberation, equipped with the most modern engines of destruction. We must hold this city until they arrive. And then we must keep on until the last Formian lies dead. There is no room on any one planet for two ruling races. So it must be war to the hilt, asking no quarter, giving none, until the Kew dynasty is restored to the throne, and Cupia is made permanently free. Are you with me?”