A note of bafflement; a shifting: "Trade you—even....?
"Yes." Craig leaned forward. "I want her, Vydys—and I'll give you Zenaor's own head for her!"
Vydys' hand came up to the ripe swell of her bosom. Scarlet lips peeled back from small, sharp white teeth. "Zenaor's head—!"
Again, Craig nodded. He let his own lips part in a tight wolf-grin. "Let's talk straight, Vydys. You hate Zenaor for his power as chief of barons. You know that the first safe chance he gets he'll cut your lovely throat."
"And so—?"
"So your only chance is to get him first—before he finishes the Baemae and decides to turn his full force on you."
Of a sudden an irregularity developed in Vydys' breathing. The dark, eyes smouldered. "You ... would help me with this, Earthman—?"
Wordless, Craig tilted his head in affirmation.
"Now—tonight—?"
"Yes."