Sark's face took on the color of the molten purple mud in Mercury's _sotol_ swamps. Spasmodically, he clutched the switch set in his chair-arm. His voice, his body, shook with seething fury. "Who are you, _chitza_, that you should come so long a way to die?" Haral brought the _hwalon_ to a halt, so close to the raider chief that the lance's ray-head gouged Sark's gross midriff. "They call me Haral," he slashed back fiercely. "Perhaps you've heard the name--if they ever let you pause to listen where warriors spoke. As for dying, I'll meet that when it comes. But not from you, Sark. Not here; not now." The raider's webbed fingers flexed and clenched. His fat-rimmed eyes glinted like murderous Titanian diamonds set in flesh. "Haral--?" A sneer contorted his fat face. "A raider without a ship. A space tramp soaked in _kabat_." He bared his teeth. "You fool! What chance do you think you have? My men surround you, ready to blast you!" Haral laughed aloud. "And what happens to the woman--Xaymar's priestess, Kyla?" he challenged harshly. "Her body's pressed next to mine. Can your blasters kill me, and let her live? Can they burn my armor through, yet leave her still unharmed?" Again he laughed, and the fierce recklessness he felt poured out in hot, slashing words. "No, Sark! You can't afford to have her die, no matter how you'd shame her or abuse her to break her spirit and make her speak. For though you talk of the old high priest, Namboina, you can't know for sure how much she told him. Your crew hasn't even managed to catch him. So if this woman dies, it may well be that your only chance for the goddess Xaymar's secret will die with her!" In the same instant, he wondered bleakly what would happen if he'd guessed Sark and the situation wrong. * * * * * A veil seemed to fall across the raider's eyes. When he spoke, his voice had lost its fury. Now it was gentle again, almost--low-pitched, persuasive, as it had been when he first talked to Kyla. "I've heard the tales they tell of you, Haral, and they all say that you're mad--mad with ambition, mad with daring. You want the whole universe for your own, they say, and you'll throw your own life on the block to claim it. But even ambition and daring can go too far." He paused and eyed Haral. Then, when the blue man made no answer, he went on again. The persuasive note in his voice grew stronger. "Can't you see what you're doing, warrior? I'm _gar_ of the raiders. If I let you carry off this woman, it means the end of me. Every _stabat_ on the spaceways will say, 'Sark has lost his strength. Sark has let Haral take a woman from him.' Even my own crews would mutiny against me." "And so--?" "So I cannot let you go, Haral. No matter what the cost, I must kill you. If not now, then later. If you take the woman, you must die!" Haral could feel his stomach muscles quiver. The menace that radiated out from Sark hung over him like some deadly cloud.