A noiseless roaring filled his world. The most intolerable sound that he had ever heard or dreamed of, was here increased a thousandfold; raised to a tooth-grating pitch of shrill unbearable unpleasantness. And with it—adding to it, if addition could be possible—was the bleak assurance that the horrid thing would still go on; would never cease. Never, never, never—
Never, unless he stopped it.
That single thought became the final weapon of the entity that had been, and would be once again Duke Harald. And with that final weapon he began to fight. How, or in what fashion he could never after tell. For all of that most singularly awful episode was barred to him in later days.
But fight he did. His two months’ training, scanty though it was, may well have helped. And it is possible—nay, probable—that Master Elwyn violated his Prime Rule of Privacy and reached in a helping mind. But in the end it was perhaps a certain bedrock strength, bred in the bone and inmost core of generation after generation of a warlike race that had never known surrender; this it was what served and saved him.
And so Duke Harald fought. For long without real hope, with nothing to sustain him but that ultimate refusal to admit defeat. And gradually, and slowly he began to win. Began, in some vague manner to remake old barriers and to build new ones; began to stem the howling mental tumult.
Quiet at last! The final shield was fitted into place. His thoughts moved slowly now, but only with the slowness of exhaustion. He sank parsecs-deep in slumber.
Coffee aroma, drifting through the open door, awakened him at last. His first thought was that he was hungry. Eagerly he sat up; and discovered, first that someone had removed his clothing while he slept; and, more important, that a full twelve hours had elapsed.
Swiftly he dressed. And as he did so, Duke Harald let his mind scan over what had happened. He had taken the esper drug; that much was clear. But afterwards? His memory showed a curious blank—empty of content, yet filled with a shapeless sense of horror from which his thoughts drew back. To his surprise, he found that he was shaking. He had to sit upon the bed while he regained control; and perspiration started from his body.
Well! he thought. He had taken the esper drug. But—had it worked? Uncertainly, he tried to contact other thoughts. Just for a moment he seemed to catch a vagrant whisper from outside. But he was not sure. It could have been imagination.
Driven as much by puzzled apprehension as by hunger, he trailed the scent of coffee to the lower floor. And there he found Count Godfrey, Master Elwyn, and the answer to his riddle.