Xax shuddered at the glitter in the green eyes of this big giant. "I did not think Guantra had taken anything. I know better now. Without a weapon, Guantra would not dare strike for power. By smashing every weapon in that Tower, I could have stopped him cold at one stroke. Then I could have returned to my smithy, in the desert, and lived out my life." * * * * * Kortha sighed, and surveyed the craggy ground below. They were flying low over a barren plain where rocks lay yellow in the sun as far as they could see, like golden pebbles. Jagged red cliffs rose off to the right, shining dully like copper; to the left, a mesa of red-green stone lifted a flat top toward the sky. Between the mesa and the cliffs, the golden floor of the plain went on and on, endlessly. Kortha increased the speed of the little flier, and sighed, "But now all that is changed. Guantra has his weapon, and I must find Ilse. We must raise a fleet to oppose him. I'm still afraid of myself, Xax. I may yet hurt Ilse, but I'll have to chance it. Mars is bigger than both of us!" A dot in the sky to sunward of them grew bigger, loomed into a small flier. Kortha swore happily, seeing the emblazoned dragon on its prow. "Ilse. She's come back to talk to me again." He swung the ship toward her, anathematizing himself for having smashed its radio. He had meant it as a protective measure, to prevent Guantra from triangulating his position. It boomeranged, now. Ilse would see Guantra's rippled black star pennon on his own prow. She fled from him like a startled fawn, but Guantra built good ships. Kortha overhauled her slowly, ducking her gun-blasts, swallow-darting. When she dove for a cliffside, Kortha followed; and only expert piloting prevented them both from slamming the hulls of their ships against those coppery walls. A shell from her rear electrogun ripped away a section of his fuselage before she saw him, big and white-furred, in the glass cabin. He saw her face go white, looking back at him. Ilse fought her controls, dropping toward the plain. Grinning wryly, fighting his ship that bucked with a hole in her side, Kortha followed her down. She came running to him across the stones, her loose white bolero jacket blowing back, her straight long legs flashing brown in the sunlight, making shadowy grotesques ahead of her on the jagged rocks. Her red mouth shouted laughter at him, mixed with sobs. He caught her up against him; bent to memorize her blue eyes, the soft cheeks that were moist with tears, the full scarlet mouth. Her platinum hair blew wild in the breeze. Kortha drank a kiss from her wet mouth, and kept her crushed to him for moment after moment. Three years on the desert is a long time. "Whew!" whispered Ilse, laughing up at him with lips and eyes, her nose crinkling a little. She sobered suddenly; put soft hands to his cheeks, stroking them. "You fly Guantra's ship. What happened?"