"Sit here beside me as my lover, while my children feast upon her body--" Xaymar's gesture took in the whole blank-eyed, slithering, lusting beetle horde. "Bind yourself to me with this one sacrifice of passion--" "No!" screamed Haral. "No, no--!" The words came from his throat, but it was not his voice. The world rocked. His body shook, and he could not stop it. Xaymar's hands, her voice, reached out to him, cajoling: "What can her one life mean to you, who have carved your destiny in blood? What can she matter, this _Shamon_ scum?" "No--!" "Look deep within you, warrior! Look to your dreams of empire, your ambition! Look to me--" * * * * * As she spoke, with one tempestuous sweep, she flung wide her scarlet gown and stood before him naked, as she had lain beneath the crystal bubble in her deep-sunk vault. Her hand moved sensually over the sleek curves of her perfect body. Her midnight hair rippled in the breeze. "Look at me, blue man! Look--and then tell me you can reject me for another!" Her voice swelled with a richer timbre. "I am yours, warrior--and I know you want me, for I have looked into your brain! It was I who reached out across the miles and found you, through your _Shamon_ girl's unguarded mind, so that Sark could seize you and bring you here. I've been inside you all the time you've stood in this arena--thinking your thoughts, feeling the things you felt. I know you better than you know yourself. I know how many times you've cursed yourself for giving me up to save this other creature. Now, at this very moment, you waver. Why should you die with her, when you can live and see your dreams of power come true and have me, Xaymar, queen of storms, most beautiful of women?" Haral could not make the world stop rocking. His body was a numb, unfeeling thing. His brain ... his brain--He clutched his head between his shackled hands and tried to fight, to think, to slash the haze away. Xaymar cried: "Come to me, warrior!" Numbly, dumbly, he stared at her, swaying. She raised her hands. "Come...!" And as she spoke, it was as if her fingers had reached into his mind--twisting it; pulling.... He stumbled towards her, a single step. "Come!" This time the word was in his brain itself, not in his ears. He took another step. Another. "Come... come... come...." It was like that other night--was it a million years ago?--the night he'd heard the coleoptera calling. But the thing the beetles called was "Kill! Kill! Kill!" Kill the man-things. He staggered forward. And there was Xaymar, ripe lips smiling. He felt her arms go tight about him, the pressure of her naked body on him. He tried to think of Kyla. But what was Kyla? Why should he die for a girl called Kyla when he could live and have his dreams and Xaymar? _Kill the man-things._ Blonde hair, and a slim young body. Courage, and a head held proudly. Xaymar. Power, and ripe lips, hot with passion. _Kill the man-things._