Slowly, his vision cleared. He let his hands fall.
Then he wished he had not.
For now the starship's silver prow no longer stood silhouetted against the distant western sky. As if by magic, it had vanished, its passage marked only by a slowly settling dust-smoke haze.
So this was Zenaor's answer to the Baemae challenge. He had destroyed the Federation starship.
Craig Nesom stood on Lysor alone....
CHAPTER III
The Street of Arts. Narrow and winding, lined with the small, cramped shops of skilled craftsmen who wrought wondrous things of wood and leather, glass and metal. Here you could buy the finest filigree of silver... paintings on porcelain or plastic ... figurines carved from djevoda tusks ... fabrics that glinted with threads of Xumarian thril and Odak's orlon.
And here hid Tumek.
Tumek, the statue-caster. Tumek, the sculptor.