"Aye, O King and pirate and slave! Whence did you come? What far-off country saw your birth, you who have the height of the mountain men, the thin nostrils of the hordesmen of Kor, the black hair of the cavemen, the blue eyes of those who haunt the islands of the seas, and the swift strength of the dwellers of the plains? In all of our world there has never been born such a composite prodigy of nature. Or are you of our world? A demon, perhaps, in the guise of man? You were never a child--to human knowledge. Even the seers can trace you no farther back than your first battles, and your history is not in the stars. Whence?" "Again I am ignorant, Nione." The captive's eyes were pensive and his brow furrowed in thought. The ruler of Krall gazed at his features watchfully, but some of the sternness was gone from her face and only the slaves and the wide-eyed guardsmen noticed the easy familiarity with which the prisoner ignored the rightful titles of their Queen. The highest member of the court would have had his tongue torn from its roots for using such a form of address to the Queen of Ygoth. "My first memories are of the clash and ring of metal upon metal in the heat of a great battle and sweat and blood on my face as I called our battle-cry. I was a mercenary on the field of Sate fighting in the service of the fool King Tærus, whom later I had the satisfaction of spitting on my sword." "Over a dancing-girl!" concluded the Queen spitefully, and sniffed. The captive shrugged but remained silent. Nione contemplated the swordsman through half-closed eyes. Calmly he returned her gaze, and something in the depths of his fierce blue eyes caused her pulse to beat a little faster, and a faint flush tinged her alabaster cheeks. "If," she asked finally, irritated at these signs of weakness in her august person, "my guards should conduct you in safety to the limits of my borders, on any side you desire, would you go--peacefully?" Again Duar shrugged and the chains rattled. "Perhaps," he said. "Perhaps--not." "You fool!" cried Nione, now crimson. "I am giving you your life! Know you I could have you impaled, torn apart, killed a thousand ways! I grant you mercy and you care nothing?" "Mercy? For what? For defending myself from onslaught? From cruelty? Your eyes belie the name you seek to frighten with!" He sighed. "Almost I wish I were a king again!" "Throw him into the Pits!" screamed the outraged ruler of Ygoth. "And--and put extra chains on him!" As the guards led their captive away, the foremost stepping hastily before the long strides of the prisoner, Duar called mockingly back over his shoulder: "Beware, O Queen Nione, lest the red rain come and the black raven perch on the turrets of your castles!" One of the guards dropped his end of the chain, whereat the captain, to hide his own fears, kicked him lustily as he stooped to recover it. Nione stared, white-faced, as a peal of laughter rolled back from the dark corridor.