"Where is Victor?" Margaret asked. "Is he--?" "The one-armed one, or the other?" Margaret's face showed scorn. "Would I be interested in cripples?" "Oh, the slender one. He too will be taken before Highness Sin." "And Eldon?" Wor looked annoyed. "Gone. _Came through_ on the seaward side of the Mountains." "But why didn't you get him, too?" Wor was distinctly irked. "We looked. Either he _came through_ below ground level, in which case he is dead, or the Rebels found him, in which case he is dead, too. Write him off." Margaret let a couple of tears roll down her cheeks, but not from grief over Eldon. She knew that in this strange situation into which she had been flung she would need a friend and protector. "What is going to happen to poor helpless me? Oh, won't you help me?" she asked plaintively. Her eyes expressed open admiration for the corded muscles rippling beneath Wor's military tunic. It was an ancient appeal and Margaret realized it had been most obviously applied. But it worked. Men were so easily handled, even this Wor. Carefully she hid her satisfaction as he sat down beside her. She moved a little closer to him as he talked, telling her about his land and what she could expect. After a while he sheathed his dagger. Someone tapped on the bulkhead. Wor bellowed and the door opened. The man who entered raised his hand in a respectful salute, and Margaret would have given much to understand what he said. But Wor stretched out one enormous hand and snatched the helmet from her head. The words became meaningless but she could still see the deference with which Wor was treated. After the man had gone and Wor had crammed the helmet back on her head she was careful by word and look to let him see she understood his importance. She could almost see his great chest swell. Men were so simple, when handled properly. A whistle emitted a warning screech. "We land in a few minutes," Wor told her. "Do nothing that might anger Highness Sin. Your life depends upon it." He rose, snatched her to him in an embrace that was without tenderness and left her lips bruised. Before she could decide whether to resist or respond he was gone. A few minutes later the flying machine struck with a cushioned thump and the sibilant hiss of its engines died. * * * * * The two soldiers who escorted her out looked suspiciously at the helmet Wor had allowed her to retain, but made no attempt to remove it. The ship had landed in the courtyard of a tremendous castle. Massive, weather-streaked grey walls soared upward to end high above in incongruously stream-lined turrets from which projected the ribbed and finned snouts of strange weapons. Windows were few and small, and the whole structure looked incredibly ancient.