Below him, the guard reached out and caught a metal hand-hold jutting from the shaft's wall, then slid back a panel like the one above and stepped out into a broad hall. But where the top level had shown stark and bare here lay luxury to stagger man's imagination. The walls were a shimmering tapestry of translucent color. Craig's feet sank into raaltex carpeting so thick and soft that it was like stepping onto a cloud. He gripped the guard's arm. "Now--Vydys!" "This way." The other turned, shuffling ahead. "End chamber...." Craig shifted the fire-gun in his hand; laid the butt hard across the guard's head behind the ear. The other crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Stripping off the man's harness, Craig donned the livery himself and lashed his prisoner's wrists and ankles, rolling him out of sight behind a long, sofa-like seat. Then he was at the door, the door to the Lady Vydys' chambers. He paused for a moment, listening with his ear against the panel. No sound came. He gripped the handle ... turned it slowly ... let the weight of his shoulder press against the door. Ever so slowly, it swung open a fraction. Craig peered into the living room beyond--a place fully as ornate as the corridor, with furnishings sleekly trimmed in polished chromite. Craig slipped inside and closed the door behind him. On the far side of the room, another door stood open. Noiselessly, Craig crossed to it ... looked into a bedroom. A sleeping-couch, all gold and white, rested against the far wall, framed in darkly glinting mirrors. While he watched, the coverlet moved. A body shifted. Gripping the fire-gun, Craig walked warily to the couch-side. Black hair rippled against white pillows. A sleek body twisted--sensuous, cat-like. Then the head turned. For the first time, Craig saw the face. A woman's face. The face of evil, incarnate, living in the fleshly form that men called Lady Vydys. Yet she was lovely. Even here, even now, Craig Nesom's heart pounded as he looked down on her. He rested his weight against a chair-arm; raised the fire-gun. "Vydys...." She stirred in her sleep. The shadow of a frown crossed the lovely face. "Vydys!" Slowly, the soot-black lashes lifted. The dark eyes opened. Craig said softly, "Quiet my lady! Don't make me kill you!" She showed no sign of fear--no sudden tensing, no quick tremor. "You know, of course, that your heart will be torn from your body for this, carrion." Her voice was low and silky. "Will it?" Mirthlessly, Craig chuckled. Vydys' black eyes widened. She twisted beneath the coverlet. "You are no guardsman!" And then--staring, rocked back with sudden shock: "You--the Earthman--!" "Yes, the Earthman," Craig nodded bleakly. "But--what do you want--?" "You know a girl called Narla? Zenaor's daughter?" The dark eyes narrowed. "Yes...." "Would you trade me even for her?" A note of bafflement; a shifting: "Trade you--even....?