Gordon stumbled out of that terrible radiance back into the hall. He bent over the prone form of Jhal Arn.

“Jhal. For God's sake-”

Jhal Arn had a terrible, blackened wound in his shoulder and side. But he was still breathing, still alive.

Gordon sprang to the stair and shouted upward. “Guards. The Emperor has been hurt!”

Guards, officers, officials, came pouring down quickly. Jhal Arn by then was stirring feebly. His eyes opened.

“Bodmer-guilty of this attack on me!” he muttered to them. “Is Zarth all right?”

“I'm here. He didn't hit me, and he's dead now,” Gordon husked.

An hour later, he waited in an outer room of the royal apartments high in the palace. Lianna was there, striving to comfort Jhal Arn's weeping wife.

A physician came hurriedly from the inner room to which Jhal Arn had been taken.

“The emperor will live!” he announced. “But he is terribly wounded, and it will take many weeks for him to recover.”

He added worriedly, “He insists on Prince Zarth Arn coming in.”

Gordon uncertainly entered the big, luxurious bedroom. The two women followed. He stooped over the bed in which Jhal Arn lay.

Jhal Arn whispered an order. “Bring a stereo-transmitting set. And order it switched through for a broadcast to the whole Empire.”

“Jhal, you mustn't try it!” Gordon protested. “You can make announcement of my being cleared in another way than that.”

“It's not only that that I have to announce,” Jhal whispered. “Zarth, don't you realize what it means for me to be stricken down at the very moment when Shorr Kan's plans are reaching their crisis?”

The stereo transmitter was hastily brought in. Its viewer-disk swung to include Jhal Arn's bed, and Gordon and Lianna and Zora.

Jhal Arn painfully raised his head on the pillow, his white face looking into the disk.

“People of the Empire!” he said hoarsely. “The same traitorous assassins who murdered my father have tried to murder me, but have failed; I shall in time be well again. “Chan Corbulo and Orth Bodiner-they were the ringleaders of the group. My brother Zarth Arn has been proved completely innocent and now resumes his royal rank.

“And since I am thus stricken down, I appoint my brother Zarth Arn as regent to rule in my place until I recover. No matter what events burst upon us, give your allegiance to Zarth Arn as leader of our Empire!”

Chapter XXIV. Storm Over Throon

GORDON uttered an involuntary exclamation of dismayed amazement. “Jhal, no. I can't wield the rule of the Empire, even for a short time.”

Jhal Arn had already made a feeble gesture of dismissal to the technicians. They had quickly switched off the stereo apparatus as he finished speaking, and were now withdrawing.

At Gordon's protest, Jhal Arn turned his deathly-white face and answered in an earnest whisper.

“Zarth, you must act for me. In this moment of crisis when the Cloud darkens across the galaxy, the Empire cannot be left without a leader.”

Zora, his wife, seconded the appeal to Gordon. “You're of the royal house. You alone can command allegiance now.”

Gordon's mind whirled. What was he to do? Refuse and finally reveal to them the unguessed truth of his identity and his involuntary imposture?

He couldn't do that now. It would leave the Empire without a head, would leave all its people and its allies confused and bewildered, would make them imminent prey for the attack of the Cloud.

But on the other hand, how could he carry out the role when he was still so ignorant of this universe? And how then could he get away to Earth to contact the real Zarth Arn across time? “You have been proclaimed regent to the Empire and it is impossible to retract that now,” said Jhal Arn, in a weak whisper.

Gordon's heart sank. It was impossible to retract that proclamation without throwing the Empire into even deeper confusion. There was only one course open to him. He would have to occupy the regency until he could slip away to Earth as he'd planned. When they had re-exchanged bodies, real Zarth could come back to be regent. “I'll do my best, then,” Gordon faltered. “But if I blundered-”

“You won't,” Jhal Arn whispered. “I trust everything in your hands, Zarth.”

He sank back on his pillow, a spasm of pain crossing his white face. Hastily, Zora called the physicians.

The physicians waved them all from the room. “The emperor must not exert himself further or we will not answer for the consequences.”

In the splendid outer rooms, Gordon found Lianna at his side. He looked at her shakenly.

“Lianna, how can I lead the Empire and hold the star kings' allegiance, as Jhal would have done?”

“Why can't you?” she flashed. “Aren't you son of Arn Abbas, of the mightiest line of rulers in the galaxy?”

He wanted to cry to her that he was not, that he was only John Gordon of ancient Earth, utterly unfit for such vast responsibility.

He couldn't. He was still caught in the web that had bound him since first-how long ago it seemed. He had for adventure's sake entered his pact across time with Zarth Arn. He still had to play out the role until he could regain his own identity.

Lianna imperiously waved aside the chamberlains and officials who already were swarming around him.

“Prince Zarth is exhausted. You will have to wait until morning.”

Gordon indeed felt drunk with exhaustion, his feet stumbling as he went with Lianna up through the palace to his own old apartment.

She left him there. “Try to sleep, Zarth. You'll have the whole weight of the Empire on you tomorrow.”

Gordon had thought he could not possibly sleep, but he was no sooner in bed than drugged slumber overcame him.

He awoke the next morning to find Hull Burrel beside him. The big Antarian looked at him a little uncertainly.

“Princess Lianna suggested that I act as your aide, highness.”

Gordon felt relieved. He needed someone he could trust, and he had a strong liking for this big, bluff captain.

“Hull, that's the best idea yet. You know I've never been trained for rule. There's so much that I ought to know, and don't.”

The Antarian shook his head. “I hate to tell you, but things are piling up fast for you to decide. The envoys of the southern star-kingdoms ask another audience. Vice-commander Giron has called twice in the last hour from the fleet, to talk to you.”

Gordon tried to think, as he quickly dressed. “Hull, is Giron a good officer?”

“One of the best,” the Antarian,” said promptly. “A hard disciplinarian but a fine strategist.”

“Then,” Gordon said, “we'll leave him in command of the fleet. I'll talk to him shortly.”

He had to nerve himself for the ordeal of walking down with his new aide through the palace, of replying to bows, of playing this part of regent-ruler.

He found Tu Shal and the other star-kingdom envoys awaiting him in the little study that was the nerve-center of Empire government.

“Prince Zarth, all our kingdoms regret the dastardly attack on your brother,” said the Polarian. “But this will not prevent your demonstrating the Disruptor for us as your brother agreed?”

Gordon was appalled. In the whirl of the night's events, he had almost forgotten that promise.

He tried to evade the question. “My brother is badly stricken, as you know. He is unable to carry out his promise.”

The Hercules envoy said quickly, “But you know how to wield the Disruptor, Prince Zarth. You could carry out the demonstration.”

That was the devil of it, Gordon thought dismayedly. He didn't know the details of the Disruptor. He had learned something from Jhal Arn of how the apparatus was operated, but he still hadn't any idea of just what that mysterious, terrible force could do.