"Pah! Autohypnosis—or plain drunkenness. There are a thousand other names for it."
"No," said Thymar softly. "It's there—pure life force, or whatever it might be termed, but with those Jewels one man would be as ten thousand men, each greater than any Earth has produced.
"And you can be that man, Nathan!" The old spaceman raised again from the bed. "I bequeath to you the two Jewels that I have left. There were three, but—"
"Firebird?"
"That does not matter. I warned you of her because she has sworn to have the Jewels. I know she has two, maybe more. You'll have to kill her for them. Think what it would mean to the universe if that ruthless witch possessed the Jewels. Hell would be let loose.
"The Jewels are no concern of mine. I want to know only who did this to you."
Thymar sank back again. His voice whispered almost inaudibly, "Come closer."
"In the cave of Lava Mountain," he whispered hoarsely, "do you remember the Stone Pig? The two Jewels are there. It makes no difference who did this to me. Nothing matters but the Jewels of Chamar. Take them—and become master of the universe!"
"Who did—?" Then Nathan's fury-laden voice ceased. The only sound was the hush of rain outside. Slowly Nathan's head bent low. His father was dead. Never again would Thymar Ormondy's voice roar upon the spaceways or in the thousand tavern rendezvous of the spacemen.
Tabor put his hand upon Nathan's shoulder. "Sorry, son."