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Briefly, I sketched the Chief’s report, Fetter nodding every few words. When I had finished, he rubbed his long, thin fingers together nervously, and stared down, frowning at the littered top of his desk.

“Right as far as he went,” he said. “But he didn’t go far enough. Wanted you to find out for yourself, I suppose.

“Well, there is a secret society working against us here. Sect, I’d call it. Undermined the whole inhabited portion of Lakos–which isn’t a great area, as you know.”

“The Chief Priestess is Liane. I believe you said she stowed away on the Ertak with you?”

I nodded.

“You’re keeping her under guard?” asked Fetter.

“No; under the circumstances, we couldn’t. We had no authority, you see. A crowd of natives bore her away in triumph.”

“Then your work’s cut out for you,” groaned Fetter. “She’s a devil incarnate. Beautiful, irresistible, and evil as corruption itself. If she’s back, I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done. We’ve been sitting on a volcano ever since she left. Pressure growing greater every instant, it seemed. She’s just what’s needed to set it off.”

“We’ll have to take our chances,” I commented. “And now; just what is the set-up?”

“The Worshipers of the Flame, they call themselves. The membership takes in about every male being on Lakos. They meet in the great caverns which honeycomb the continent. Ghastly places; I’ve seen some of the smaller ones. Continent was thrust up from the sea in a molten state, some scientific chap told me once; these caverns were made by great belches of escaping steam or gas. You’ll see them.

“She–Liane–and her priests rule solely by terror. The Lakonians are naturally just horses” (a draft animal of ancient Earth, now extinct), “content to work without thinking. Liane and her crew have made them think–just enough to be dangerous. Just what she tells them to think, and no more. Disobedient ones are punished by death. Rather a terrible death, I gather.

“Well, her chief aim is to stop the production of temite. She wishes to bargain with the Council–at her own terms.”

“What’s her price?” I asked. “What does she want, wealth?”

“No. Power!” Fetter leaned forward across the desk, hammering it with both fists to emphasize the word, his eyes gleaming from their deep sockets. “Power, Hanson, that’s what she craves. She’s insane on the subject. Utterly mad. She lusts after it. You asked her price; it’s this: a seat in the Council!”

* * * * *

I gasped audibly. A seat in the Council! The Council, composed of the wisest heads of the universe, and ruling the universe with absolute authority!

“She is mad,” I said.

“Crazy,” grunted Correy. “Plain crazy. A woman–in the Council!”

Fetter nodded solemnly.

“Mad–crazy–use your own terms,” he said. “But that’s her price. The Chief didn’t tell you that, did he? Well, perhaps he didn’t know. I learned it in a very roundabout way. She’ll make the formal demand when the time is ripe, never fear. And what’s more, unless these Worshipers of the Flame are stamped out–she’ll get what she demands!”

“Impossible!”

“Not at all. You know what this place is. Only a Lakonian can stand this atmosphere long. No vitality to the light that does come through this damned green stuff they breathe for air; and after a few days, the acid, metallic tang of it drives you frantic. Never can get used to it.

“So the Lakonians have to mine the temite. And the universe must have temite, in quantities that can’t be supplied from any other source. If the Lakonians won’t mine it–and they won’t, when Liane tells them to quit–what will the Council and your Service do about it?”

“Plenty,” growled Correy.

“Nothing,” contradicted Fetter. “You can kill a man, disintegrate him, imprison him, punish him, as you will, but you can’t make him work.” And there that phase of the matter rested.