Jarl's fury seethed higher. In spite of his shackles, he jerked free of the Mercurian's taloned hand. He felt cold arrogance ring in his voice: "No one drags Jarl Corvett! I'll walk alone!"
For the fraction of a second the guards stood hesitant, lobed eyes clouded beneath their nictitating lids.
Jarl swung his arms back sharply. The chains of his shackles whispered, link on link, like a flexing metal knout.
The Mercurians' eyes fell. Contemptuous, ignoring them, Jarl turned away. Head high, back unbending, he strode towards the table of the high commissioner.
The Earthman smirked at him, still swaying.
Recklessness sang a death-song in Jarl Corvett's veins.
"Hail, coward!" he cried fiercely, and swept the crowd with a scathing glance. "Is this the best your Federation fleet can offer—scum so low that they draw their sport from taunting prisoners? Huroks so green with fear that you must bring me here in bonds?"
An angry babble rose from the tables, and the commissioner's kabat-heavy lids drooped lower. But his lips twisted in the mirthless semblance of a smile.
"Do you rate yourself so high that you think I'd waste time on you, starbo?" He laughed, deep in his throat. "No, brigand! You're here against my will!"
"Against your will—?"