Her mouth was working. New tears had come to her eyes. Now, of a sudden, they overflowed and spilled down her cheeks.
Harshly, Haral slashed: "What now, priestess? Do we wait here while Sark tears out Namboina's heart, then goes and wakens your mad woman-goddess Xaymar?"
Slowly, the hand that held the ray-gun lowered, till the weapon hung loose against Kyla's side. Her shoulders, too, slumped. In the stillness, her falling tears made tiny splatting sounds as they hit the floor.
"Kyla, Kyla—!" the other priestess whispered. "You dare not linger! Sark seeks you, too. That is why I came to warn you—"
Again the silence echoed. Then, wearily, Kyla straightened. She shook away the tears. Her mouth stopped quivering.
Never had she been more lovely.
She turned to the blue man: "Haral...."
It came to him, with a queer sort of shock, that it was the first time she had ever called him by his name.
"Yes, Kyla...?"