He looked at her ... at raven hair and ripe, half-parted lips and slender fingers ... the temptation, incarnate, that lay in her perfect body. She whispered: "Kiss me, warrior!" A tremor ran through him. He pulled her to him. Her head went back. Her lips were trembling. Breathing deep, Haral kissed her. The softness of her mouth made him a little giddy. Her lips clung to his. He could feel her arms about him, the pressure of her breasts against him. But the jewels in her veil gouged his cheek. What did that bizarre mask hide? And there were Kyla's words again: "_Each night she took a different lover--and then, at the dawn, at her command, each one was slain!_" He lifted his head, then, and the living goddess whom men called Xaymar laughed softly, still in his arms. "How many men have sought my kisses, warrior? Yet I ask you to claim them!" Haral did not speak. Her midnight hair brushed his face. "There will be nights without number, blue one--nights when you'll forget even your ambition in my arms!" "Yes." She drew back a fraction. "Why, then, are you so silent? Am I not beautiful? Can you not feel the warm fire I promise you?" Her voice took on a sudden edge. "Or--is it that you would rather hold that blonde _Shamon tirot_ they call Kyla in your arms?" With an effort, Haral held his face immobile. "Now you speak as a woman, not a goddess. Kyla was your priestess. I sought her only to guide me to you." Xaymar pushed back from him. "Have a care how you lie to me, blue man! I looked into your mind while you lay unconscious. She was there, that Kyla! Your first thoughts were of her!" * * * * * Haral let his words go harsh and angry: "You still talk like a jealous woman! She gave me only trouble. I care nothing for her." "Trouble? That was all she gave you?" Xaymar taunted. Her lips twisted. "Then you'll be happy to hear what I've done with her, warrior!" "What you've done--?" Haral's words came blurted. In spite of himself, tension rolled up within him. "What do you mean? Where is she?" "You'll laugh with me, blue man! She tried to kill me, yet I was merciful, as a goddess should be. Instead of tearing her heart out, I freed her, and found a mate to woo her." "A mate--?" "A mate fit for her kind of _tirot_." Xaymar laughed, and of a sudden the spell of nameless menace and infinite evil Haral had caught before rang in the sound. "I gave her to Sark." "Sark--!" Haral reeled. "Yes, Sark." The woman moved back one sinuous step, then another, like a great cat toying with its prey. "He asked that I let him take her away from Ulna with him. I said no. But then, later, it came to me that I could devise no greater suffering for her, so I sent her to him." "You ... sent her to that creature?"