He said tightly: "You know this woman. You know she's under my protection. Who among you saw fit to lay hands on her, in my own quarters?" And then, with special, deadly emphasis: "Who _dared_ to do it?" But the chieftains' eyes threw back his fury. Their faces stayed hard, bleak, impassive. "You _starbos_!" Jarl lashed. "Are you afraid to talk? Have you left your tongues on Pluto?" The chiefs exchanged glances. Then, almost idly, Bor Legat moved forward--Bor Legat of Mercury, Bor Legat the ruthless. His lean body's shell-plates clacked in the stillness like tiny castinets. The basilisk eyes were like diamonds. "Corvett," he said gently, "we're not afraid. Maybe this will convince you." One arm appendage whipped up. The splayed, tentacular digits stung Jarl's face like flicking lashes. Jarl rocked in a red haze of fury. "Bor Legat--" "I know. You'll kill me." Chill, casual, the Mercurian crossed to the chart table and slouched down on one radial hip. The tentacular digits wrapped around the proton grenade that served as a chart-weight and swung it idly to and fro. To Jarl, the ticking seconds were like eons. The tension rising in the room was almost a living thing. He waited, not speaking. At last Bor Legat raised the basilisk eyes to him. "Word travels fast, Corvett. We know you've got _rey_ Gundre's daughter." Jarl stared. "That's why you're here--?" The Mercurian shrugged. "What else? And what better place to trap you than your own quarters?" The other raiders nodded. "And Sais--?" Jarl queried tightly. "We needed her, to force your hand." Jarl shot a quick glance at the woman. She stood as before, straight and proud, one hand to her bodice. Her dark eyes spoke unreadable volumes. Bor Legat laughed softly. "She wants your help, Corvett. I hope that she'll get it." * * * * * Jarl turned on him, voice raw and scalding. "Quit talking in riddles! What is it you're after?" "You're not that stupid, Corvett." The Mercurian swung the proton grenade a fraction faster. "We want the girl, of course; Gundre's daughter, Ylana." "Why?" "To drive a bargain." The faintest hint of urgency crept into Legat's tone. "We know why you stole her. You're out to save Wassreck." "And you--?" Jarl put scorn into his voice. "Death comes to all raiders. Why should a traitor's tale be different?" The Mercurian lowered the grenade and leaned forward. "You can have it straight, Corvett: _rey_ Gundre's made us an offer. If we give him you and Ylana, he'll spare Ceresta." "And you believe him--?" Jarl laughed harshly. "No wonder you came here! You're mad as a _ban_, Legat! How long do you think he'd hold to his promise?" "Long enough," the Mercurian clipped curtly. He sat back once more. Again, idly, he swung the grenade like a deadly oval pendulum. Jarl said: "Maybe there are some things you don't know--about Wassreck; about his new projector--"