"Yes." Craig leaned forward. "I want her, Vydys--and I'll give you Zenaor's own head for her!" Vydys' hand came up to the ripe swell of her bosom. Scarlet lips peeled back from small, sharp white teeth. "Zenaor's head--!" Again, Craig nodded. He let his own lips part in a tight wolf-grin. "Let's talk straight, Vydys. You hate Zenaor for his power as chief of barons. You know that the first safe chance he gets he'll cut your lovely throat." "And so--?" "So your only chance is to get him first--before he finishes the Baemae and decides to turn his full force on you." Of a sudden an irregularity developed in Vydys' breathing. The dark, eyes smouldered. "You ... would help me with this, Earthman--?" Wordless, Craig tilted his head in affirmation. "Now--tonight--?" "Yes." "But why? What is your reason?" Craig smiled--a crooked smile. "I said I wanted Zenaor's daughter Narla, Vydys. That means alive--both of us. I'll need help to handle it." * * * * * The last traces of Vydys' hesitation vanished. She twisted; sat up on the sleeping-couch, her face aglow with dark excitement. "He is on the seventh level, Earthman. If anyone should question, tell him that you carry a message to Zenaor for me. Here, take this signet--" She stripped a ring set with a carved black gem from a slender finger; held it out to Craig. Not touching it, he said, "I've got a better idea." Vydys' smooth brow furrowed, ever so slightly. "What--?" "You go with me." She caught her breath. "You see?" Craig laughed harshly. "The picture changes when your neck's in the noose along with mine." He got up; gestured peremptorily with the fire-gun. "Come on!" Her nostrils flared. "And if I will not?" Craig paused; brought his weapon's muzzle up, steady and level. "A blast from this at close range would sear your breasts till they crackled, my lady." A quick-drawn breath. Fear was in the dark eyes now--fear, and ... something else, something strange, hard to define. Then, wordless, the woman slid from the bed and pulled on shoes and a diaphanous outer garment. Craig came close behind her. "Time's short." She shrugged; leaned against him for a moment. "Why do you want her, Earthman--that pale slut, Narla?" Involuntarily, Craig stiffened, then stood wooden-faced, unmoving. "Why does any man want a woman, my lady?" "A woman--?" Vydys' laugh held an edge of scorn ... or was it fury? "You call that creature a woman, Earthman? There's water in her veins, not blood!" Craig stepped away from her, not answering. For an instant lines of quick anger slashed Vydys' face. Then the tempest faded. Together, the two of them, they went out through the corridor to the force shaft. Rode it down in pulsing silence to the seventh level. Walked echoing halls where the tension crawled like a living thing. Ahead, an intersection loomed. Down the right-hand passage, a guard paced slowly.