CHAPTER II

Twin blue-and-silver Federation banners marked the place of the high commissioner of all the asteroids.

His table stood at the far end of the vast room that had been _Ktar_ Wassreck's workshop. Other tables radiated out in a great arc from it--tables crowded with officers of the Federation fleet. Heavy-thewed Uranian _daus_ sat side by side with slim reptilian _Pervods_. Transmi of Venus, all ear-stalks and sucking tubes, faced rubbery, flat-featured Europans. Creatures of half-a-hundred divergent races, hybrids and mutants, they gathered here from all the far-flung planets of the Federation. Their rising voices clashed in strange cacophony through the tinkle of cutlery and crystal, thrown back in a din of ringing echoes from the giant metal robots that still lined the walls.

Straightening in spite of the weight of his shackles, shrugging off the hands of the guards who flanked him, Jarl Corvett met the seething hostility of their glances with stiff-necked defiance. But underneath, questions nagged him: _Why am I here? Who ordered me brought to this banquet?_

But here he stood. That was what counted. Boldly, he surveyed the room ... stared unflinching across at the commissioner.

A handsome man, Commissioner _rey_ Gundre. Heavy-bodied and aging, in these later days. But still personable, still a figure to catch the eye, even slack-faced and slouched in his seat as now.

He was a man of Earth, plainly, with all the strengths and weaknesses and surging conflicts that went with that heritage. The sunburst insignia of his rank stood out against the deep blue of his impeccably tailored uniform. The white blaze that accented the darkness of his hair only made him the more striking.

His aide sat at his left hand, Ylana at his right.

Ylana the golden, daughter of the high commissioner himself.

And Jarl Corvett's nemesis.

Even looking at her here, Jarl could feel the muscles at the hinges of his jaws draw tight.

Tonight she sat slim and graceful at the banquet table in a scarlet stylon gown. Her blonde hair swept up in a soft golden nimbus like that of Tal Neeni, sea goddess of Callisto. The red lips were smiling, the grey eyes asparkle.

Yet even when she laughed, some dark inner mood seemed to shadow her beauty, even as it had last night while she lay asleep.

That shadow.... Was it alien blood, or a secret? Again Jarl caught himself wondering. He thought: _I should hate her!_ And in the same moment: _Even Sais is no lovelier_....

Cursing himself for a fool and a weakling, he tore his eyes from her and studied the aide.

He was _Malya_, this officer; _Malya_ and warrior. His dark rough-hewn face stayed emotionless, immobile. But the black _Malya_ eyes ranged ceaselessly--bleak and watchful, never still. Ruthlessness was in them, and recklessness ... a spirit that seemed to mock Jarl Corvett and deny the blue Federation tunic that the dark aide wore.

* * * * *

Bitterly, Jarl looked down at his shackles. He thought of the _Malyas_ among his own crewmen; the wild, free-born raiders.

How long would it be before they, too, wore the blue of the Federation?

Or before they died....

Now the commissioner stirred. Chin sunk on chest, he mumbled something to his rock-faced lieutenant.

The lean aide nodded briefly. Twisting in his seat, he pounded on the banquet table--first with his fist; then the butt of his heavy Talistan ray-gun.

The sound rose even above the tumult and raucous voices, echoing and re-echoing through the great room that till short days before had been Wassreck's clandestine robotics laboratory.

Slowly, the noise and voices died away. Chairs scraped. Heads turned. Eyes of _Fantay_ and of _fala_, Mercurian and Martian, _Chonya_, Thorian, _Pervod_, searched out the table where the aide and the high commissioner sat.

Not quite steadily, then, the commissioner rose, a brimming _kabat_ goblet in his hand. His eyes had the glassy shine of bright new mirrors, and his tunic was rumpled, twisted awry.

Swaying a little, the commissioner slapped loose-fingered at the blouse, as if to brush away the wrinkles. _Kabat_ slopped from the goblet and spilled over his hand. Blinking, he looked down at the spreading green stain. A foolish grin flickered fleetingly on his face.

Ylana leaned towards him; spoke sharply.

The commissioner's head twitched. He straightened, and his shoulders snapped back to a too-stiff 'attention'. Jerkily, he raised his glass.

"A toast to our host, officers!" he cried in a drink-thickened voice. "A toast to _Ktar_ Wassreck--may he rot in hell!"

Leaden silence came down on the room like a curtain. Furtive glances flicked out to the towering robots, shoulder to shoulder, that lined the walls.

It made Jarl Corvett smile a little, the way the officers hung back. Did some recall H'sana? Were others on Pallas? Free or captive, _Ktar_ Wassreck still put cold fear in them!

_Ktar_ Wassreck: Outlaw, scientist, scholar. Wassreck at Horla--gnome head tilted, eyes burning, laughing in the face of death. Wassreck ... and Sais....

Spasmodically, Jarl's fists clenched. His bruised head throbbed dully.

"To our host!" the commissioner cried again, lurching forward. "To Wassreck--"

The spell broke. The officers surged to their feet. Their shouts rang through the clamor: "To Wassreck--"

"--May he rot in hell!"

They drank it down.

Fury swirled up in Jarl Corvett, hot and all consuming.

Swaying, face flushed, the commissioner clutched a decanter. He spilled more _kabat_ into his goblet. "Now--one for Corvett! A toast to Jarl Corvett--"

* * * * *

He broke off as Ylana tugged at his tunic. Lines of angry tension slashed the smooth loveliness of her face. Her lips moved, wrapping round curt syllables.

Her father laughed drunkenly. He turned towards the doorway where guards and raider stood, and his hand swept up in a clumsy broadside gesture. "Drag him out!" he shouted. "Flush the _chitza_ out of his hole!"

The two Mercurians who flanked Jarl closed in. One clutched his arm.

Jarl's fury seethed higher. In spite of his shackles, he jerked free of the Mercurian's taloned hand. He felt cold arrogance ring in his voice: "No one drags Jarl Corvett! I'll walk alone!"

For the fraction of a second the guards stood hesitant, lobed eyes clouded beneath their nictitating lids.

Jarl swung his arms back sharply. The chains of his shackles whispered, link on link, like a flexing metal knout.

The Mercurians' eyes fell. Contemptuous, ignoring them, Jarl turned away. Head high, back unbending, he strode towards the table of the high commissioner.

The Earthman smirked at him, still swaying.

Recklessness sang a death-song in Jarl Corvett's veins.

"Hail, coward!" he cried fiercely, and swept the crowd with a scathing glance. "Is this the best your Federation fleet can offer--scum so low that they draw their sport from taunting prisoners? _Huroks_ so green with fear that you must bring me here in bonds?"

An angry babble rose from the tables, and the commissioner's _kabat_-heavy lids drooped lower. But his lips twisted in the mirthless semblance of a smile.

"Do you rate yourself so high that you think I'd waste time on you, _starbo_?" He laughed, deep in his throat. "No, brigand! You're here against my will!"

"Against your will--?"

"Yes. You're here to face another--one whom even I cannot deny, after what you've done."

Wordless, narrow-eyed, Jarl studied him for a moment. "Then who--?"

"Who would it be?" This time the commissioner's laugh was sour and savage. "Can you not guess, _yanat_?" And then: "My daughter, Ylana."

"Your daughter--!" Jarl pivoted to Ylana.

"Yes!" The girl came to her feet as he turned, grey eyes blazing. Her words burst forth in a scalding flood. "Did you think I spoke empty words when I swore last night that you'd live to curse the day you tried to seize me? Did you take my promise for a hollow threat--?"

She broke off; swept round the table, a furious vision in gold and scarlet. Her hand flicked up in a tight, peremptory gesture. "Atak! Seize him--!"

The commissioner's rock-faced _Malya_ aide closed in on Jarl, moving round behind him.

Ylana raised a shaking fist. "On your knees, _stabat_!"

* * * * *

A numb incredulousness crept through Jarl Corvett. But he stood the straighter. "I kneel for no man--nor for woman!"

A savage kick in the back of the knees caught him from behind in the same instant. His legs buckled. He spilled forward, asprawl on the floor.

"A whip--!" cried Ylana, face white with passion. "A whip for this raider dog they call Jarl Corvett!"

One of the Mercurian guards sprang forward, jerking off his heavy, _stanal_-buckled belt. "Here, _Shi_ Ylana! The plate will cut deep!"

The girl snatched it from him. Her face contorted.

"No, Ylana--!" It was her father, the _kabat_-haze fading from his eyes. "Would you drag yourself down to the level of this _chitza_, here before officers of the fleet--?"

The girl turned on him as a _quirst_ turns on its pursuers. "Who talks of dragging down, and of the fleet?" she lashed fiercely. "Do you dare to speak--you, with your plots and schemes, your secret meetings--?"

The high commissioner flushed to the hair. "Ylana! Silence!"

"Was it you this _starbo_ and his scum dragged out of bed last night? Was it you who screamed and called the guard when they sought to flee in your own carrier?"

Her father's jaws went stiff and set. His clenched fists bore down upon the table. But he broke before Ylana's eyes; said nothing more.

The girl turned her back on him. Furiously, she challenged Jarl: "You were brave enough last night, when you dealt only with a helpless woman! But how is your courage now, bold raider? How does force taste, when another hand holds the lash?"

Her shoulders twisted. Gripping the Mercurian's belt by the tongue, she slashed out with the heavy _stanal_ clasp.

Jarl rocked back. The buckle sang past his face, so close he could feel its breath.

But now, again, the _Malya's_ foot caught him from behind. It knocked him forward on his shackled hands, off balance.

Before he could recover, the belt whipped down again. The buckle tore at his cheek. He rocked with pain.

"Is it different, this time, raider?" Ylana shrieked. "Are you ready to sing another song?"

Tight-jawed, stiff-backed, Jarl met her gaze. He did not speak.

The girl's red lips peeled back. "I asked you a question, dog!" she cried. "I want an answer!"

She slashed out with the belt again. The buckle seared his jaw and neck.

"Answer me!"

Wordless, Jarl swayed.

The buckle ripped at his forehead. Blood gushed down into his eyes.

"Answer me--!"

Jarl lurched forward, clutching for her. But she darted back, out of his reach. The stylon gown rustled. The buckle tore a path along his scalp. The room blurred and swam before his eyes. Desperately, he tried to cover his face with his shackled hands. But the tangled chains were too short. He could only double forward, face to the floor.

* * * * *

The buckle struck behind his right ear with stunning force, a fiery knife stabbing through a red haze of pain.

"Wait, Ylana--!" It was Atak the _Malya's_ voice, drifting dimly to Jarl as from afar. "Those blows to the head--he cannot last--"

"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--!"

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.

The door clanged shut on the Martian's ghoulish laugh. Sick with pain, Jarl dragged himself up and crawled to the bunk. Belly-down, he sagged onto the springless frame.

How long he lay there he never knew. It was all he could do to breathe, to be. The room about him was a reeling, distorted world of mists and feverish dreams.

Then, at last, that, too, passed. Wearily, he pulled himself upright and shook out his wadded tunic.

Metal clanged on the floor.

Jarl stiffened in spite of his wounds. Swiftly, he bent and felt beneath the bunk.

His hand touched metal. It was a knife ... a keen, long-bladed telonium fighting _skrii_.

For a long, long moment he sat in silence, gripping its heavy haft. Then, in the darkness, he slowly smiled.

A _Malya_ was still a _Malya_, whether he wore the Federation's uniform or not.

Tomorrow they'd ship him to the Venus headquarters, the _slan_-chambers, death.

But this was tonight, the darkest hour, and he had a knife, and the high commissioner's carrier still stood in the court outside....