"Then drag him up! Tear off his tunic! Bear his back, so that I can see the red blood run!" Hands clawed at Jarl's clothes. He felt his tunic rip away. The aide dragged him up; twisted him about. "Hold him there, Atak! Hold him tight!" came Ylana's cry. The buckle seared Jarl's back--once, twice, a dozen times. "Speak, _starbo_! Beg for mercy as you made me beg--!" [Illustration: Jarl fought against showing pain as the girl brought the belt down on his back.] Jarl cursed her with a raw, pain-surging hate; cursed her with all the black epithets of a raider and the warrior worlds. "Still stubborn, _chitza_--?" Wild hysteria was in Ylana's voice. The buckle bit in again. Atak's hoarse whisper rasped in his ear: "You fool, give up! The woman's mad! Even a raider should know that there's a time to crawl!" Jarl clenched his teeth. The girl cried, "You see, Atak? He loves the lash--!" She struck again. The commissioner's voice slashed harshly, the fog of drink long gone: "Ylana! You'll kill him--!" "You--!" The girl's contempt was a writhing, burning thing. "Where were you last night, you _kabat_-soaked sot? You, with your talk of duty, your fat-puffed pomp--" Her father's voice went clipped and tight. "Enough, woman! Raider or not, this man's my prisoner. Tomorrow I'll ship him on to the Venus headquarters. He'll die in the _slan_-chambers there; not by your hand." The room echoed with the flat slap of his palm cracking down on the banquet table. "Atak! Get his tunic! Send him to his cell." "Yes, Excellency...." The _Malya_ let go Jarl Corvett's arms. Blinking the blood from his eyes, the raider stood swaying. Still numb, still not quite believing, he stared at golden Ylana, in her scarlet stylon gown. Now, her hair hung down, no longer nimbus. Her lips were pale, and her breasts rose and fell too fast. Madness gleamed in her dark-circled eyes. She snatched the tunic from Atak. "Here! Let me...." Whirling, she ran to Jarl and thrust the wadded garment into his shackled hands. "Brave raider--!" She spat full in his face. The _Malya_ aide caught her arm and jerked her back. "If you were not _rey_ Gundre's daughter--" He cursed under his breath. "Get out! You disgrace us!" Gripping Jarl's arm, he led him from the hall. "I cannot expect your pardon, Jarl Corvett. It would be too much to ask from any raider, any man. But in their day, my ancestors roved the void...." His voice trailed off. Turning to the guards, he said, "Take him to his cell. I'll see that one of the fleet _ktars_ comes on down." * * * * * Weak, tottering, Jarl let them lead him back to the old, thick-walled wing they had given over to the prisoners. He had not even the strength to curse when the guard, a Martian _fala_ with all his race's fiendish love of cruelty, tripped him skillfully, so that he sprawled on his face as he crossed the threshold to the room that was his cell.