A hot, tempestuous tide of anger swirled up within the warrior. But he did not move; he did not speak.
A second Martian caught his arm. "Come along, you zanat, before we stave in your ugly head!"
For an instant, in spite of himself, Haral's arm went rigid. Then, thin-lipped, he sucked in air, and fell in beside the quaking, shaking priest.
One of the raiders laughed contemptuously and shoved the pair of them ahead still faster.
They reached the narrow doorway that led out to the street. Then, while their prisoners paused, two of the raiders stepped outside.
A knot of tension drew tight in the pit of Haral's stomach. He let his shoulders slump, and slouched, half-turning.
Namboina stumbled on through the door.
A Pervod pushed the blue man forward.
With studied care, Haral, too, stumbled. He caught the handle of the open door as if to keep himself from falling.