"And you're angry." She laughed, her teeth showing white and pointed as bone needles. Her gaze held Starke's. There was nothing casual about it. Starke's hawk eyes turned molten yellow, like hot gold, and did not waver. Beudag stood like a bronze spear, her forearms crossed beneath her bare sharp breasts. Two of Rann's palace guards stood behind her. Starke began to walk toward Rann. She watched him come. She let him get close enough to reach out and touch her, and then she said slyly, "It's a good body, isn't it?" * * * * * Starke looked at her for a moment. Then he laughed. He threw back his head and roared, and struck the great corded muscles of his belly with his fist. Presently he looked straight into Rann's eyes and said: "I know you." She nodded. "We know each other. Sit down, Hugh Starke." She swung her long legs over to make room, half erect now, looking at Beudag. Starke sat down. He did not look at Beudag. Rann said, "Will your people surrender now?" Beudag did not move, not even her eyelids. "If Faolan is dead--yes." "And if he's not?" Beudag stiffened. Starke did too. "Then," said Beudag quietly, "they'll wait." "Until he is?" "Or until they must surrender." Rann nodded. To the guards she said, "See that this woman is well fed and well treated." Beudag and her escort had turned to go when Starke said, "Wait." The guards looked at Rann, who nodded, and glanced quizzically at Starke. Starke said: "Is Faolan dead?" Rann hesitated. Then she smiled. "No. You have the most damnably tough mind, Starke. You struck deep, but not deep enough. He may still die, but.... No, he's not dead." She turned to Beudag and said with easy mockery, "You needn't hold anger against Starke. I'm the one who should be angry." Her eyes came back to Starke. They didn't look angry. Starke said, "There's something else. Conan--the Conan that used to be, before Falga." "Beudag's Conan." "Yeah. Why did he betray his people?" Rann studied him. Her strange pale lips curved, her sharp white teeth glistening wickedly with barbed humor. Then she turned to Beudag. Beudag was still standing like a carved image, but her smooth muscles were ridged with tension, and her eyes were not the eyes of an image. "Conan or Starke," said Rann, "she's still Beudag, isn't she? All right, I'll tell you. Conan betrayed his people because I put it into his mind to do it. He fought me. He made a good fight of it. But he wasn't quite as tough as you are, Starke." There was a silence. For the first time since entering the room, Hugh Starke looked at Beudag. After a moment she sighed and lifted her chin and smiled, a deep, faint smile. The guards walked out beside her, but she was more erect and lighter of step than either of them. "Well," said Rann, when they were gone, "and what about you, Hugh-Starke-Called-Conan." "Have I any choice?" "I always keep my bargains." "Then give me my dough and let me clear the hell out of here."