Kalamita's smile was coldly gloating as she regarded the captive, young, slender, grimed by the smirching of his fall and the struggle attending his capture, his leathern flying-suit torn, and gashed where some Zollarian, overardent, had slit it with a spearhead. For a moment she turned her regard on Koryphu as if to say here was her prediction already verified, and back again to the man. "Well, Tamarizian, found you the hiding place you flew in search of?" she sneered. "Nay." The youth stiffened. "'Tis not always easy, Zollarian, to discover the hiding places of Zitemku's agents. Nor have we searched over long." Kalamita's features hardened. She gave her attention to the captain. "What of the machine?" "The machine, princess, was by this one destroyed ere we could prevent it. It lies burst and ruined by flames." "So?" Rage lighted the woman's tawny eyes--once more she was baffled in a purpose. "For that he dies." Under his grime and sweat, inside the circle of his helmet, the aviator's face went pale, but he maintained his poise of body even as Koryphu spoke quickly--"Princess of Zollaria, unsay those words." "Peace, brother of Kyphallos." Kalamita turned like a tigress on him. "Who are you to interfere? Stand back and watch how Zollaria deals with Tamarizian spies. Gor, take thy spear." Gor's lips curled back as he advanced slightly, lifted his heavy weapon and poised it. Impotently Croft's spirit writhed as he gazed upon the scene--on Kalamita, leaning forward in all her savage beauty, her sinuous body panting, her nostrils flared, once more gripping the arms of her chair with tightened fingers--at Koryphu, deadly pale because of the contemplated outrage, at the figure of Gor, wonderful in its sheer brute strength and proportion, set for the thrust on the word of command, at the guardsmen, the captain, the figure of his flier, drawn up now to its fullest stature, proudly erect in the face of death, and knew himself powerless to intervene. And suddenly the aviator threw up his hand toward the other man of his nation. "Hail, Cathur, Aphur salutes thee," his voice came strongly. "Long life to Tamarizia. Say to Zitu's Mouthpiece that Robur--" "Slay!" Kalamita screamed. Gor's spear plunged home. "Carry off that carrion." The woman's arm rose, pointing at the body. The captain growled an order. The guardsmen lifted the limp form in its suit of leather and bore it out on their spears. Kalamita swung her whole form lithely about to where Koryphu was standing. "Say to Zitu's Mouthpiece that so we treat his spies." "Aye," he made answer gruffly. "Small doubt but I shall narrate to Zitu's Mouthpiece many things." For a moment the eyes of man and woman met and plunged glances lance-like one into the other, ere there rose again an outward commotion, a burst of thunderous sound, which gave way in an instant to groans and cries.