Jhal Arn's first words shocked him back to realization of how badly his caution and self-control had slipped.

“What's the matter, Zarth? You look as though you'd never seen the Hall of Stars before.”

“Nerves, I guess,” Gordon answered huskily. “I think I need another drink.”

Jhal Arn burst into laughter. “So you've been fortifying yourself for tonight? Come, Zarth, it isn't that bad.”

Gordon numbly slid into the seat to which Jhal Arn had led him, one separated by two empty chairs from the places where Jhal sat with his lovely wife and little son.

He found grizzled Commander Corbulo on his other side. Across the table sat a thin, nervous-eyed and aging man whom he soon learned was Orth Bodmer, Chief Councilor of the Empire.

Corbulo, a stern figure in his plain uniform, bowed to Gordon as did the other people along this raised table.

“You're looking pale and downcast, Zarth,” rumbled the grizzled space admiral. “That's what you get, skulking in laboratories on Earth. Space is the place for a young man like you,”

“I begin to think you're right,” muttered Gordon. “I wish to Heaven I was there now.”

Corbulo grunted. “So that's it? Tonight's announcement, eh? Well, it's necessary. The help of the Fomalhaut Kingdom will be vital to us if Shorr Kan attacks.”

What the devil were they talking about, John Gordon wondered bitterly? The names “Murn” and “Lianna” that Jhal Arn had mentioned this reference to the Fomalhaut star-kingdom again, what did they portend?

Gordon found a servant bending obsequiously over his shoulder, and told the man, “ Saqua, first.”

The brown liquor spun his brain a little, this time. He was aware, as he drank another goblet, that Corbulo was looking at him in stern disapproval, and that Jhal Arn was grinning.

The brilliant scene before him, the shining tables, the splendid human and unhuman throng, and the wonderful sky-ceiling of stars and climbing moons, held Gordon fascinated. So this was the Feast of Moons?

Music that rippled in long, haunting harmonies of muted strings and woodwinds was background to the gay, buzzing chatter along the glittering tables. Then the music stopped and horns flared a loud silver challenge.

All rose to their feet. Seeing Jhal Arn rising, Gordon hastily followed his example.

“His highness, Arn Abbas, sovereign of the Mid-Galactic Empire, Suzerain of the Lesser Kingdoms, Governor of the stars and worlds of the Marches of Outer Space.

“Her highness, the Princess Lianna, ruler of the Kingdom of Fomalhaut.”

The clear, loud announcements gave John Gordon a shock of astonishment even before the giant, regal figure of Arn Abbas strode onto the dais, with a woman upon his arm.

So “Lianna” was a woman, a princess, ruler of the little western star-kingdom of Fomalhaut? But what had she to do with him?

Am Abbas, magnificent in a blue-black cloak upon which blazed the glorious jewels of the royal comet emblem, stopped and turned his bleak eyes angrily on Gordon.

“Zarth, are you forgetting protocol?” he snapped. “Come here.”

Gordon stumbled forward. He got only a swift impression of the woman beside the emperor.

She was tall, though she did not look so beside Arn Abbas' giant height. As tall as himself, her slim, rounded figure perfectly outlined by her long, shimmering white gown, she held her ash golden head proudly high.

Pride, beauty, consciousness of authority-these were what Gordon read in the chiseled white face, the faintly scornful red mouth, the cool, clear gray eyes that rested gravely on him.

Am Abbas took Gordon's hand in one of his, and Lianna's in the other. The towering sovereign raised his voice.

“Nobles and captains of the Empire and our allied star-kingdoms, I announce to you the coming marriage of my second son, Zarth Arn, and the Princess Lianna of Fomalhaut.”

Marriage? Marriage to this proudly beautiful star-kingdom princess? Gordon felt as though hit by a thunderbolt.

So that was what Jhal Arn and Corbulo had been referring to? But good God, he couldn't go through with this. He wasn't Zarth Arn – “Take her hand, you fool!” snarled the emperor. “Have you lost your wits?”

Numbly, John Gordon managed to grasp the woman's slim, ring-laden fingers.

Arn Abbas, satisfied, stalked forward to take his seat at the table. Gordon remained frozen.

Lianna gave him a sweet, set smile, but her voice was impatient as she said in an undertone, “Conduct me to our place, so that the others can sit down.”

Gordon became aware that the whole host in the Hall of Stars remained standing, looking at himself and the woman.

He stumbled forward with her, clumsily handed her into her chair, and sat down beside her. There was the rustle of the hosts re-seating themselves, and the rippling music sounded forth again.

Lianna was looking at him with fine brows arched a little, her eyes clouded by impatience and resentment.

“Your attitude toward me will create gossip. You look positively appalled.”

Gordon nerved himself. He had to keep up his imposture for the time being. Zarth Arn was apparently being used as a political paw, was being shoved into this marriage and had agreed to it.

He had to play the real Zarth's part, for now. He'd find some way of getting back to Earth to exchange places with the real Zarth Arn, before the marriage.

He drained his saqua goblet again, and leaned toward Lianna with a sudden recklessness.

She expected him to be an ardent fianc?, to be Zarth Arn. All right, blast it, he would be. It was no fault of his if there was deception in it. He hadn't asked to play this role! “Lianna, they're so busy admiring you that they don't even look at me,” he told her.

Lianna's clear eyes became puzzled in expression. “I never saw you like this before Zarth.”

Gordon laughed. “Why, then, there's a new Zarth Arn-Zarth Arn is a different man, now.”

Truth enough in that assertion, as only he knew. But the woman looked more perplexed, her fine brows drawing together in a little frown.

The feast went on, in a glow of warmth and color and buzzing voices. And the saqua Gordon had drunk swept away his last trace of apprehension and nervousness.

Adventure? He'd wanted it and he'd gotten it, adventure such as no man of his time had ever dreamed. If death itself were the end of all this, would he not still be gainer? Wasn't it worth risking life to sit here in the Hall of Stars at Throon, with the lords of the great star-kingdoms and a princess of far-off suns at his side?

Others beside himself had drunk deeply. The handsome, flushed young man who sat beyond Corbulo and whom Gordon had learned obliquely was Sath Shamar, ruler of the allied Kingdom of Polaris, crashed his goblet down to punctuate a declaration.

“Let them come, the sooner the better!” he was exclaiming to Corbulo. “It's time Shorr Kan was taught a lesson.”

Commander Corbulo looked at him sourly. “That's true, highness. Just how many firstline battleships will Polaris contribute to our fleet, if it comes to teaching him that lesson?”

Sath Shamar looked a little dashed. “Only a few hundred, I fear. But they'll make up for it in fighting ability.”

Arn Abbas had been listening, for the emperor's rumbling voice sounded from his throne-like seat on Gordon's right.

“The men of Polaris will prove their fidelity to the Empire, no fear,” declared Arn Abbas. “Aye, and those of Fomalhaut Kingdom, and of Cygnus and Lyra and our other allies.”

Sath Shamar flushedly added, “Let the Hercules Barons but do their part and we've nothing to fear from the Cloud.”

Gordon saw all eyes turn to two men further along the table. One was a cold-eyed oldster, the other a tall, rangy man of thirty. Both wore on their cloaks the flaring sun-cluster emblem of Hercules Cluster.

The oldster answered. “The Confederacy of the Barons will fulfill all its pledges. But we have made no formal pledge in this matter.”