The Mistmen were sweeping toward the Colosseum. The roar of their advance increased rapidly. He must decide.
Anghore. Over this outlaw world of blood-lust and savagery, ruled Alhone. Thousands of his kind who had migrated here had been slain under her sanction. But who, or what, was Alhone? What and where was Anghore? Out of the numerous strange and unexplored lands of Venus she might have come. No one knew. There was only a name. Anghore. Anghore that lay somewhere across the Sea of Mort.
A few claimed to have seen Anghore--from a distance. A jumble of towers spearing into the mist higher than the mountain peaks. Only Princess Alhone and her ferocious minions knew of it. And no one talked with them.
Alhone ruled slave followers with weapons of basic energies as strange in origin as Alhone herself. Followers who, in return for their unquestioning, dogged devotion, held positions of great personal power. In their rich trappings, they ruled over private little spheres of influence, answering only to Alhone.
Who was Alhone?--Where was Anghore?--What would he become should he accept this offer? None of these things mattered. Sometime, somewhere, he would have the opportunity to strip that soft furred hide from her quivering body--and no personal price he might pay would be too dear.
"Well, Moljar," she was saying. "Doesn't my offer interest you?"
He controlled himself well as he nodded. "I'll go to Anghore, wherever it is."
Her round pink face crinkled. "You are so certain, barbarian. Few have crossed the Sea of Mort. It is well-named."
"Then you should hurry. The Mistmen are outside the stadium now, and I'm sure they would like to find us here. At the other end of the stadium, above the catacombs, is the gyro-scout. For emergencies in the games," she laughed. "It has seldom been used. Take it. Its directional beam is already set for Anghore. It will take you directly there. If you have the key."
Moljar flexed his shoulders. His eyes were narrow, suspicious. No one ordinarily could break through the Mistmen's detector bands. Then how could _he_? He shrugged. At least he would be free for a while.
Alhone removed the gleaming yellow stone from one of her semi-webbed fingers. She dropped it to him. "This will open the gyro to you. It will function only under this stone's influence. It will also, if you reach my castle, open the gates into Anghore. You shall be rewarded, Moljar--bountifully."