Only Woola, my Martian hound,
accompanied me.
At my heels tonight the faithful beast moved softly in my tracks.
As large as a Shetland pony, with hideous head and frightful fangs,
he was indeed an awesome spectacle, as he crept after me on his
ten short, muscular legs; but to me he was the embodiment of love
and loyalty.
The figure ahead was that of the black dator of the First Born,
Thurid, whose undying enmity I had earned that time I laid him low
with my bare hands in the courtyard of the Temple of Issus, and
bound him with his own harness before the noble men and women who
had but a moment before been extolling his prowess.
Like many of his fellows, he had apparently accepted the new order
of things with good grace, and had sworn fealty to Xodar, his new
ruler; but I knew that he hated me, and I was sure that in his heart
he envied and hated Xodar, so I had kept a watch upon his comings
and goings, to the end that of late I had become convinced that he
was occupied with some manner of intrigue.
Several times I had observed him leaving the walled city of the
First Born after dark, taking his way out into the cruel and horrible
Valley Dor, where no honest business could lead any man.
Tonight he moved quickly along the edge of the forest until well
beyond sight or sound of the city, then he turned across the crimson
sward toward the shore of the Lost Sea of Korus.
The rays of the nearer moon, swinging low across the valley, touched
his jewel-incrusted harness with a thousand changing lights and
glanced from the glossy ebony of his smooth hide.
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