*How do you wish her to die?*
*She has betrayed her Talent; let her be destroyed by Talent. Tell your executioner to use darlas.* Thark regretted that, in a way; death by telepathic attack was exquisitely painful. But it was just, and it was honorable.
*What of her family?* Valla asked.
*They are oathbound. Disregard them.*
*Yes, Master Thark. Are there further instructions?*
*No.*
Thark broke the contact, then made three more briefer ones before his general broadcast to the off-planet Crusade leaders. Once they had been informed of the accelerated schedule, he was free to leave for his private spacefield and the Prowler.
Thark's attention focused again on his immediate surroundings, the Prowler's control room. In retrospect, he was as sure of Corina's thoughts as if he had read them. He laid his ears back in a frown. No, he could see no way he might have changed the morning's events. It was most regrettable, both the loss of such a Talent and Corina's death. He was still quite fond of her.
But enough of these useless memories, Thark told himself sternly. What had happened could not be changed. He should join his passengers. He rose, giving his instrument panel an automatic scan as he rose. Urrr— the proximity alarm! He'd forgotten to turn it on, a mistake he'd not have made but for Corina's defection. He sat back down and corrected his error, wondering if there were any others he'd made in his chagrin over Corina's betrayal.