"Our people have learned to bow our heads to Fate," Zeeth murmured. "We are not fighters. Pain is horrible to us. You call us cowards. From your standards, that is true. Only by bowing to the great winds have we managed to survive." "Shut up and let me sleep," Sanderson ordered, and relaxed his heavy body on a bunk. The others followed his example, all but Vanning, who sat silently thinking as hour after hour dragged past. The door opened at last, and a Swamja stood on the threshold. He wore the familiar costume of the race, but there was an oddly-shaped gun in a holster at his side. "Time!" he barked in the Venusian dialect. "Hasten! You--" He pointed to Vanning. "Follow me. The others know where to go." The detective silently rose and followed the Swamja into the huge room. It was filled now, he saw, with natives and with Earthmen, hurrying here and there like disturbed ants. There were no other Swamja, however. One of the Venusians stumbled and fell. He was a thin, haggard specimen of his species, and how he had ever survived the trip north Vanning could not guess. Perhaps he had been in this lost city for years, and had been drained of his vitality by weeks of arduous servitude. He fell.... The Swamja barked a harsh command. The native gasped a response, tried to rise--and failed. Instantly the Swamja drew his gun and fired. The Venusian collapsed and lay still. Vanning took a step forward, hot with fury, to find himself drawn back by Hobbs' restraining hand. "Easy!" the other whispered. "He's dead. No use--" "Dead? I didn't hear any explosion." "You wouldn't. That gun fires a charge of pure force that disrupts the nervous system. It was set to kill just now." The Swamja turned. "I must attend to this carcass. My report must be made. You, Zeeth--take the new slave to Ombara." "I obey." The native bowed and touched Vanning's arm. "Come with me." * * * * * Followed by Sanderson's sardonic grin, Vanning accompanied the Venusian into a corridor, and up a winding spiral ramp. He found it difficult to contain himself. "Good God!" he burst out finally. "Do those devils do that all the time? Plain cold-blooded murder?" Zeeth nodded. "They have no emotions, you see. They are what you call hedonists. And they are gods. We are like animals to them. The moment we make a mistake, or are no longer useful, we are killed." "And you submit to it!" "There was a rebellion two years ago, I heard. Twenty slaves died to every Swamja. They are like reptiles--nearly invulnerable. And we have no weapons, of course." "Can't you get any?" "No. Nor would I try. Venusians cannot endure pain, you understand. To us, pain is worse than death." Vanning grunted, and was silent as they passed through a curtained arch. Never would he forget his first sight of the Swamja city. It was like-- Like an ocean world!