It was
another trick. I swayed, limp and racked. I was not Race Cargill now. I
was a dead man hanging in chains, swinging, filthy vultures pecking at
my dangling feet. I was....
The sound of boots rang on the stone and Kyral's voice, low and bitter,
demanded somewhere behind me, "What have you done with him?"
She did not answer, but I heard her chains clash lightly and imagined
her gesture. Kyral muttered, "Women have no genius at any torture
except...." His voice faded out into great distances. Their words came
to me over a sort of windy ringing, like the howling of lost men, dying
in the snowfast passes of the mountains.
"Speak up, you fool, he can't hear you now."
"If you have let him faint, you are clumsy!"
"_You_ talk of clumsiness!" Dallisa's voice, even thinned by the
nightmare ringing in my head, held concentrated scorn. "Perhaps I shall
release him, to find Rakhal when you failed! The Terrans have a price on
Rakhal's head, too. And at least this man will not confuse himself with
his prey!"
"If you think I would let you bargain with a _Terranan_--"
Dallisa cried passionately, "You trade with the Terrans! How would you
stop me, then?"
"I trade with them because I must.
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