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That would be a difficult thing to explain to Astok; but some leniency might be expected could they carry the Prince of Helium to their master instead.
In the corridor outside her prison-room two men had paused in heated argument. "I tell you again, Astok," one was saying, "that I shall not do this thing unless you be present in the room." There was little of the respect due royalty in the tone of the speaker's voice. The other, noting it, flushed. "Do not impose too far upon my friendship for you, Vas Kor," he snapped.
He had seen the girl remove the key and place it in her pocket-pouch, and he knew that a dagger point driven into the keyhole from the opposite side would imprison them in the secret chamber till eight dead worlds circled a cold, dead sun. As fast as he could run Astok entered the main corridor that led to the tower chamber. Would he reach the door in time?
Turjun, the panthan, crept close to the companionway, his sinuous fingers closing tightly upon the hilt of his dagger. Could he despatch them both before he was overpowered? He smiled. He could slay an entire utan of her enemies in his present state of mind. They were almost abreast of him now. Astok was speaking. "Bring a couple of your men along, Vas Kor," he said.
He did not see him stoop with ear close pressed to a tiny ventilator. "May the white apes take us all," cried Astok ruefully, "if we are not in as ugly a snarl as you have ever seen! Nutus thinks that we have her in hiding far away from Dusar. He has bidden me bring her here." He paused. No man should have heard from his lips the thing he was trying to tell.
As they disappeared within the structure Astok shrugged his shoulders, and with a murmured oath crossed the gardens toward another wing of the building where he and his retinue were housed.
Under the soft copper of her skin she blanched just a trifle; but her eyes were brave and level, and the haughty tilt of her firm little chin was eloquent of loathing and contempt. "You still prefer death?" asked Astok. "To YOU, yes," replied the girl coldly. The Prince of Dusar turned to Vas Kor and nodded. The noble drew his short-sword and crossed the room toward Thuvia. "Kneel!" he commanded.
Without another glance in the direction of Astok she turned, and taking Carthoris' proffered hand, moved slowly toward the massive marble pile that housed the ruler of Ptarth and his glittering court. On either side marched a file of guardsmen.
For a long moment the girl let her level gaze rest full upon the face of Astok of Dusar. Then she spoke, and though the words were few, the unimpassioned tone carried unfathomable depths of cold contempt. "Better all that you have threatened," she said, "than you." Then she turned her back upon him and went to stand once more before the east window, gazing with sad eyes toward distant Ptarth.
He came on in great leaps that carried him so swiftly over the ground that the speed of the guardsmen was as nothing by comparison. Astok still clutched Thuvia's wrist as the young warrior confronted him. The new-comer wasted no time and he spoke but a single word.
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