As the levitated idol
swung slowly to look down upon its enemy on the built-up cart, Verkan
Vall aimed the blaster and squeezed.
[Illustration:]
In a spot less than a millimeter in diameter on the crocodile idol's
side, a certain number of neutrons in the atomic structure of the
stone from which it was carved broke apart, becoming, in effect, atoms
of hydrogen. With a flash and a bang, the idol burst and vanished.
Yat-Zar gave a dirty laugh and turned his back on the cart, which was
now burning fiercely facing King Kurchuk again.
"Get your hands up, all of you!" Verkan Vall shouted, in the First
Level language, swinging the stubby muzzle of the blaster and the
knob-tipped twin tubes of the needler to cover the group around the
throne, "Come forward, before I start blasting!"
Labdurg raised his hands and stepped forward. So did two of the
priests of Yat-Zar. They were quickly seized by Paratime Policemen who
swarmed up onto the platform and disarmed. All three were carrying
sigma-ray needlers, and Labdurg had a blaster as well.
King Kurchuk was clinging to the arms of his throne, a badly
frightened monarch trying desperately not to show it. He was a big
man, heavy-shouldered, black-bearded; under ordinary circumstances he
would probably have cut an imposing figure, in his gold-washed mail
and his golden crown. Now his face was a dirty gray, and he was biting
nervously at his lower lip.
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