wish, for I have heard that these be noble fighters."
A slave rose and approached him. “It is all the same in which game we die," he said. "I would fight for you as a panthan in the second game."
Another came. "I am not from Gathol," he said. "I am from Helium, and I would fight for the honor of a princess of Helium."
"Good!" exclaimed Turan. "Art a swordsman of repute in Helium?"
"I was a dwar under the great Warlord, and I have fought at his side in a score of battles from The Golden Cliffs to The Carrion Caves. My name is Val Dor. Who knows Helium, knows my prowess."
The name was well known to Gahan, who had heard the man spoken of on his last visit to Helium, and his mysterious disappearance discussed as well as his renown as a fighter.
"How could I know aught of Helium?" asked Turan; "but if you be such a fighter as you say no position could suit you better than that of Flier. What say you?"
The man's eyes denoted sudden surprise. He looked keenly at Turan, his eyes running quickly over the other's harness. Then he stepped quite close so that his words might not be overheard.
"Methinks you may know more of Helium than of Manator," he whispered.
"What mean you, fellow?" demanded Turan,
