Kirby nodded. His apprehension increased.
“Ah,” said the Duca softly. And then, amazingly, a smile deepened every wrinkle of his parchment face. “But do you not remember that I said I had not come here because you summoned me?”
“Yes,” Kirby said solidly. “I remember very well.”
“The thing which brought me here was the failure of my followers to accomplish an assignment which I had given them—namely, that of ending your life.”
“Hum.” Kirby scratched behind his ear. “You are not interested in arranging terms of peace, then.”
“I am here,”—suddenly the Duca’s voice filled the room—“to do that which my priests were unable to do. And the moment has come when the Gods will no longer trifle with you. You dog! You thieving intruder! You—”
Swiftly the Duca plunged one withered but still powerful hand into the folds of his robe above the flaming girdle. Then his hand flashed out, and in it he held—
But Kirby did not get to see.
A strangled cry of terror smote his ears. Naida leaped toward him from one side, while Elana, the lovely youngest girl, sprang from another direction, hurled Naida aside, and stopped in front of Kirby.