Again there was the rustling. A head moved into view from beneath the bunk, already turning ... a woman's head, crowned with a nimbus of golden hair.
It was Ylana.
CHAPTER IV
A dragging eternity of silence echoed in the tiny cabin. Jarl's knife-hand fell. He groped for words that would not come.
Coolly, the girl slid out from under the bunk and, supplely graceful, rose to her feet. Ignoring Jarl, she straightened the sleekly-styled blue Federation tunic that accented rather than concealed the smooth curves of her slim young body. When she looked up, her grey eyes were mocking, half-disdainful. "What, raider? Have you never seen a woman, that you must stare so at me?"
"You—? A woman?" Jarl spat. "Your own sex would disown you! You're more mad ban than human!" He clenched his fist. "By H'sana's virgins. I should kill you!"
Ylana tossed her head—uncringing, defiant. The golden hair rippled. "Is that your raider's way, then? To kill the one who gives you life?"
"Who gives me life—?" Jarl cursed. He touched his lacerated face. "You've given me scars only!"
"Is your beauty such that wounds will mar it?" The girl's lips twisted scornfully. "I thought you'd find my skrii worth a few cuts, a little pain, if it would buy you back your freedom."