Din-Ryka drew the canvass cover over the cave entrance and lit one of the lamps fixed in the wall. A soft yellow glow highlighted the minerals glittering in the rugged stone as he returned to his seat at a portable desk. More lamps were lit deeper in the cavern and he could see his men preparing their food and sharing muffled conversation.

Viktor pulled up a camp chair on the opposite side of the desk and offered Din-Ryka a food packet from his kit. "Two of our scouts will be spending the night in the town. They will be back with their report in the morning."

Din-Ryka just nodded, waving away the food offering.

"You should eat my friend," Viktor admonished, as he pulled at the sides of the food packet to activate the heating process," a sharp mind requires nourishment."

"My nourishment comes from the prospect of victory." Din-Ryka announced, slouching in his seat." At the festival of Reb we will strike our blow for conquest."

Viktor pried open his packet and dug out a handful of food. "This festival worries me," he said, swallowing noisily," there will be too many Azwanians gathered in the same place."

"That's the beauty of it," Dyn-Ryka's eyes glittered in the lamplight, "with so many people there, we will be able to mix in unnoticed." He leaned forward and fixed his companion with a fierce stare. "All that is needed to control the crowd is the subduing of Gothag's daughter Kress. He would die himself before allowing any harm to befall her."

Viktor drained the remaining juice from his food packet and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "My experience is the simpler the plan the more difficult the execution."

"Don't be a pessimist Viktor, we will prevail. Have no doubt." A peel of laughter came from the soldiers in the back of the cave and the two men glanced back, watching for a moment. "Just make sure you remind them that the object is to capture the girl. She must not be harmed in any way."

"We've been over it and over it. They each carry a stunner and whoever gets the best opportunity will use it." Viktor tossed his garbage into the corner and washed down an energy pill with a mighty swig of water. "Isolating her will be the problem."

Din-Ryka smiled at his soldier captain. "She's reported to be a free-spirited and daring girl, I think I can guarantee she will be quite occupied with the ceremonies and therefore, an easy target." The cave light cast a shadow on his sinister features, accentuating the hollows and evil appearance of his deep set eyes.

*****

Standing by the corner of the potter's store, Tugby watched the young wood carver with interest as he stroked a midnight blue dye into the smooth wood of the carving, working it evenly into every seam. While it was still wet he selected a small brush, dipped it into a bowl of liquid gold and blended highlights onto the surface. Tugby stifled a gasp as the features appeared to come alive in the afternoon sun. Moving closer to the stall he issued a small cough to gain attention and with barely concealed admiration, he pointed to the carver's work.

"That is an incredible effect young man. May I have a closer look?"

The young man shrugged and turned his work around for Tugby to see. "I think I'm pleased with the result. It's an image of Reb the . . ."

"I see. I know." Tugby interrupted, "It's beautiful. It's the finest interpretation of the god Reb I've ever seen." His hands reached out then withdrew, realizing it was still wet.

Staring fondly at the piece, the young man thanked him and inquired, "Are you interested in a purchase sir?" Waving his arm behind him at the shelf, he continued. "Perhaps something here takes your interest?"

With difficulty, Tugby tore his eyes away from the statue and studied the contents of the shelf. There were replicas of animals, large and small. Finely detailed models of space boats, several of the town's more interesting buildings, including a spectacular miniature of Gothag's dwelling.

"You did all these?" He asked incredulously.

"I did."

"Young man my name is Tugby, advisor to the Gothag household and architect of this year's festival. And you are?"

I am Marc of Altan. Community on the . . ."

"Yes, yes. I know about Altan. Tell me, as a representative of the Gothag family, what would your price be to me for that model of their home and that, that splendid replica of Reb?"

"For the model I'm asking thirty azzies, a fair price too. As for this," Marc turned and placed his hand on the model, "I don't think I want to sell it, at least not just yet."

Tugby jiggled nervously, "I did mention the Gothag family. Surely you wouldn't refuse our supreme leader's desires?"

Rinsing his hands in a shallow bowl, Marc laughed, "So far it's only your desires I've witnessed Mr. Tugby," he wiped the remaining water and dye from his fingers and came to stand in front of the little man, "You haven't said yes or no to the thirty azzies yet."

Pulling himself up as tall as he could in front of the young man, he proposed slyly. "I will pay you one hundred azzies, but only for both, and - and," Tugby poked a plump finger into the young man's chest, "I will arrange for you to sit with the Gothag family at the festival! You can join Kress and her parents on the dais." He mentioned Kress purposely to see Marc's reaction but to his dismay, Marc just scoffed and sat back down at his bench.

Uncertainly, Tugby pressed on. "Well what say you young wood carver? Not all are afforded such an honour and on such an occasion."

Marc sat silently, staring at his hands and thinking about Tugby's offer. His only living relative, his grandmother, would be making the long journey from Altan to present her meager offering at the festival. She would be very proud, after so many years of struggle, to know her grandson was moving in such august company. An exciting thought occurred to him and he quickly rehearsed it in his mind.

"Mr. Tugby. I will accept your offer with two conditions."

Tugby folded his hands in front of him and squinted appraisingly. "And they would be?"

"First. My grandmother will have a place on the dais as well, and," he held up his palm to stay any interruption, "she will be allotted a house in the senior area of Tor."

"My dear fellow─"

"For this," Marc continued hastily, "I will donate this carving of Reb to the festival committee - no charge!"

Tugby started then choked back his protest, "Donate?" he eyed the carving covetously. It was truly spectacular. "You did say, no charge?"

"For the carving, yes. But it's still thirty azzies for the model."

"Your bargain is hard. I will have to consult with the family first." Tugby jiggled some more. "Word will be sent before tomorrow night." He tossed a final glance at the carving and bid young Marc good day.