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ttle attention to Mark when he entered。 One of their number did glance in the newer's direction； taking a moment from the chant between the great slow pulse…beats of its hideous magic in the air。
〃Thought you were off somewhere else；〃 a man's voice casually remarked。
〃Not just now；〃 said Mark。 He exerted a great effort trying to make his own voice equally casual。 Whatever the other heard from him was evidently acceptable； for the man with a brief smile under his hood turned back to his foul task。
Mark stood waiting； praying mechanically for a sign from somewhere as to what he ought to do next。 He did not want to retreat； and he hesitated to move on into the interior doorway he saw at the other side of the torture chamber。 And he continued to wish devoutly that he could somehow get out of sight of what was on this table。
Presently one of the women in the group turned her face toward him。 She asked； in a sharp； businesslike voice： 〃This area is secure？〃
Not knowing what else to do； Mark answered affirmatively； with a grave inclination of his head。
The woman frowned at him lightly。 〃I thought I had detected some possible intrusion； very well masked。。。 but you are the expert there。 And I thought also that our next subject； the one still in the cage outside； possesses some peculiar protection。 But we shall see when we have her in here。〃 Briskly the woman turned back to her work。
Mark； with only a general idea of what she must be talking about； nodded again。 And again his answer appeared to be acceptable。 Whoever they took him for； none of these people seemed to think it especially odd that he should continue to stand there； watching them or looking away。 He continued standing； waiting for he knew not what。
Quite soon another one of the men turned away from the altar； as if his portion of the bloody ritual were now plete。 This man left the group and approached a table near Mark； there to deposit his small bloodstained knife in a black bowl of some liquid that splashed musically when the small implement went in。
Then； standing very near Mark and speaking in a low voice； this man asked him； 〃e； tell me … why did he really summon you back here？〃 When there was no immediate reply； the man added； in a voice suddenly filled with injured pride； 〃All right then； be silent； as befits your office。 Only don't expect those you keep in the dark now to be eager to help you later； when。。。〃
The man broke off abruptly at that point。 It was as if he had been warned of something； by some signal that Mark totally failed to perceive。 The man turned his face away from Mark； and toward the doorway that Mark had supposed must lead into the inner chambers of the pavilion。
Meanwhile one of those still at the altar warned； in a low voice： 〃The Master es。〃 All present … except of course the sacrificial victim … fell to their knees； Mark moving a beat behind the rest。
It was Vilkata himself who emerged a moment later through the curtains of sable black。 Mark had never laid eyes on the Dark King before； but still he could not doubt for an instant who this was。
The first impression was of angular height； of a man taller than Mark himself； robed in a simple cloth of black and gold。 The hood of the garment was pulled back； leaving the wearer's head bare except for a simple golden circlet； binding back long ringlets of white hair。 The exposed face and hands of the Dark King were very pale； suggesting that the whiteness of the hair and of the curled beard resulted from some type of albinism rather than from age。
The second impression Mark received was that some of the more horrible tales might be true； for the Dark King was actually； physically blind。 Under the golden circlet； the long…lashed lids sagged over what must be empty sockets； spots of softness in a face otherwise all harsh masculine angles。 According to the worst of the stories； this man in his youth had put out his own eyes； as part of some dreadful ritual necessary to overpower his enemies' magic and gain some horrible revenge。
Looped around Vilkata's lean waist was a sword…belt of black and gold； and in the dependent sheath there rode a Sword。 Even in the dim light Mark could not fail to recognize that plain black hilt； so like the one he was now clasping hard in his own sweaty fist。 And Mark； his own vision augmented in some ways by Sightblinder； could not miss the small stylized white symbol of a banner that marked Vilkata's Sword。
It was of course the Mindsword； just as Draffut had warned。 Mark was struck with the instant conviction that what he had to do now was to get the Mindsword out of Vilkata's possession； prevent his using it to seize the world。 The decision needed no pondering； no consideration of consequences。
Vilkata's blind face turned from left to right and back again； as if he might be somehow scrutinizing his assembled magicians carefully。 Mark could read no particular expression on the harsh countenance of the Dark King。 Then one large； pale hand extended itself from inside Vilkata's robe； making a lifting gesture； a signal to his counselors that they might stand。 Would the King have known； Mark wondered； if they had all been standing instead of kneeling as he entered？ But then there would not have been this faint robe…rustle sound of rising。
Mark held his breath as the blind face turned once more toward him； and this time stayed turned in his direction。 Behind those eyelashes； white and grotesquely long； the pale collapsed lids were as magnetic as any stare。 Something about them was perversely beautiful。
There was a tiny almost inaudible humming； a miniature disturbance in the air near the Dark King's head。 Some demonic or familiar power was municating with him … so Mark perceived； watching with Sightblinder's handle in the grip of his hand。
The Dark King seemed about to speak； but hesitated； as if he were magically aware that something was wrong； that matters here in this innermost seat of his power were not as they should be。 Still the blind face confronted Mark； and Vilkata whispered a soft question into the air。 A humming answer came。 Mark could feel the power of the sheathed Sword at his own side suddenly thrum more strongly。
When Vilkata did speak aloud； Mark was surprised at the sound of his voice； smooth； deep； and pleasant。
〃Burslem； I am surprised to see you here。 I take it that the task I sent you on has been pleted？〃
Burslem。 To Mark the name meant nothing。 〃It is indeed； my lord。 My head on it。〃
〃Indeed； as you say。。。 now all of you； finish quickly what you are about in here。 I want you all at the conference table as quickly as possible。 The generals are waiting。〃 And Vilkata and his halfvisible familiar vanished； behind a sable swirl of draperies。
One wizard； a junior member of the group perhaps； stayed behind briefly to settle whatever still remained to be settled upon their ghastly altar。 The others； Mark among them； filed through the doorway where Vilkata had disappeared。 They passed through the next chamber； which was filled with what looked like draped furniture； and entered the next beyond that。
The room was larger； and somewhat better lighted。 It contained a conference table large enough to