〃Keys；〃 said Doon laconically； supporting his victim against the grill。 The man was wearing a ring of them on his belt。
Mark reached in through the bars； detached the keys； and brought them out。 One part of his mind was protesting that this had been cold murder； while another part exulted in the triumph； the demonstration of Doon's proficiency。 War required capable leaders； and this was war； a part of Sir Andrew's fight against the Dark King and the cruel Silver Queen。 This robbery was meant as a stroke of war against the allies of Sir Andrew's foes； the Temples Red and Blue。
The grill…door was opened； and the dead man propped sitting in a corner； his presence made as inconspicuous as possible in the restricted space。 Apparently none of the other Temple people had noticed anything wrong as yet。 The music went on as before； behind doors in the distance。 Somewhere nearby； around a corner； the clashing of pots and the slosh of water told of a kitchen of some kind functioning。
Bundled Wayfinder in hand again； the Baron led his small troop of armed men down the corridor lined with cells。 All of the doors were closed。 The Sword paused。 〃This one； here。 Try the keys。〃
The ring held six of them。 Mark fumbled past one key that did not look meant to fit this crude lock； tried another that looked as if it might but didn't。 The third try was lucky； and the brass…bound oaken door swung back。 The space behind it was very dark； as one might expect the interior of a cell to be。
Quick reflexes ducked Mark safely under an onrushing metal blur。 He recognized the missile as a brass chamber pot； as it clanged and spattered on the opposite wall of the narrow corridor。
〃Keep away from me！〃 The voice ing out of the dark cell was certainly a woman's； but forceful enough to have served an infantry sergeant。 〃You putrid collection of loadbeast droppings； do you know who I am？ Do you know what'll happen to you if you touch me？〃
Doon； who had started in at the open door； recoiled now； swearing by several demons； as another missile of some kind flew past his head。 The cell's sole occupant was now visible in the light from the open door。 She was a tall young woman； sturdily built； her pale skin streaked with dirt and her red hair matted。 Her clothing was rich； or had been once； long ago before it approached its present state of wear and dirtiness。 Her height overtopped Doon； who now moved into the cell again； by a good measure； and indeed came within a few centimeters of matching Mark's； who was tallest of the men present。
Doon； murmuring something no doubt meant either to frighten or reassure； took her by the arm and tried to tug her from the cell。 She would have none of it； but cursed at him again。 Her white hands and arms； emerging from torn sleeves； grabbed at him and fought him off。
The little man； unwilling to use deadly force； struggled ineffectually in the grip of the big young woman； the big girl； really； Mark realized； for she was very young。 The Baron's momentary predicament would perhaps have been ic； at some other time。 It was not； now。
〃I am Ariane！〃 the girl was shouting at them all； as Mark moved forward to try to help his leader。 Her cries had awakened an echoing clamor from some of the other cells； so that the corridor reverberated with unintelligible noise。 The girl was yelling： 〃I am the。。。〃
Her voice faltered； at the first instant when she looked Mark full in the face。 And when it came back； it was vastly changed； a dreamer's whisper to match the sudden wonder in her eyes。 〃My brother；〃 she breathed。 And in the next instant Mark saw her eyes roll up。 He stepped forward just in time to help Doon catch her slumping body。 She apparently had fainted。
Doon was supporting her； but turning his head； looking for his wizard。 〃Indosuaros； what。。？〃
〃Not my doing；〃 said the magician； incongruous figure of power against the shabby background。
Doon was not going to puzzle over it now。 Leaving the girl to Mark to hold； he had his Sword in hand again。 〃It points us back the way we came。。。 bring her； and let's get out。〃
Mark； impeded by the longbow still on his back； had to struggle in the narrow corridor to carry the heavy girl along。 Ben stopped him and wordlessly relieved him of the burden。 Without effort Ben hoisted her body over one shoulder and strode on。 Long red hair； even matted as it was； still fell nearly to the floor； and strong white forearms dangled。
As they tramped past the dead guard； his fixed eyes seemed to gaze at Mark。
Chapter 8
The Blue Temple furnished itself elegantly here on the upper levels of the central office； especially in the chambers where the members of the Inner Council met to talk business； among themselves and with other folk of parable importance in the world。 The clerks and administrators who worked on the lower floors might have to make do with worn furniture and blank paneled walls； but up here there was no stinting on slaves and fountains； marble and gold； tapestries and entertainment。
Not that Radulescu had been provided with any entertainers to keep him pany as he cooled his heels in the High Priest's outer office； actually an anteroom of one of a suite of offices。 But he could hear string music in the distance somewhere。 He could distract himself； if he liked； by getting up from the luxuriously padded couch from time to time to pace the floor； and gaze out of the curtained window。 That window overlooked walls； and parapets； and some lesser towers belonging to folk of somewhat less importance； affording a clear view above rooftops all the way to the inner side of the city walls themselves。 Those walls were even higher … designedly so。 They were famed for their height and strength； and this city for its impregnability … indeed； many people believed that the central hoard of the Blue Temple was concealed in some subterranean vault beneath this very building。
Radulescu of course knew better。 But only he； the High Priest； and two or three members of the Inner Council … Radulescu was not sure which ones … were the only people on the surface of the earth who knew with certainty where Benambra's Gold was kept； and how to reach it。
It was generally understood； among those who knew anything of the world； that the present High Priest was the de facto ruler of this city and of much other territory besides； to which he laid no formal claim。 But cities； no matter how strongly defended； always drew the attention of money…hungry kings and other potentates； and no； the Blue Temple was not going to put its treasure； the main reason for its existence； in any such obvious place as that。
The whole organization appeared so straightforward to the uninitiated； and it was really so devious。 Radulescu's thoughts were on that fact； as it related to his own career； when there was a stir at a curtained doorway； and a bald…headed； gold…garbed secretary appeared。
〃The Chairman will see you now。〃
And Radulescu； as he hurried to follow the aide through one elaborate office after another； allowed himself a small sigh of relief。 When the chief functionary of the Blue Temple chose to use that title； the business at hand was more likely to be business than some ecclesiastical ritual … as； for example； the unfrocking of some priest…officer who had been found derelict in his duty。
The final door opened by the secretary disclosed a large room。 Among its other luxurious appointments was a conference table large enough for twenty potentates to have gathered at it。 There was； however； only one other person in the room； a rather small man with a rubicund face and a head as bald as that of the secretary who served him。 This man was seated at the far end of the table； with a bundle of papers spread out before him on the polished wood。
The High Priest … or Chairman … raised his round； red face at Radulescu's entrance。 The chief executive looked quite jovial … but then； he always did； at least in Radulescu's limited experience。
〃Colonel Radulescu； e in； be seated。〃 The Chairman motioned to a place near his own。 〃How are you getting along on detached duty？ Have you been finding eno