Jarl said: "Maybe there are some things you don't know—about Wassreck; about his new projector—"
"Yes; we've heard about it." A veil of craft and malice drew over the basilisk eyes. "You see, we've got it, too, Corvett."
Jarl started. "You've got it—?"
"You heard me." Bor Legat's smile grew to a ghoulish grin, leering and macabre. "Sais gave it to us."
"Sais—!" Jarl swung sharply.
The woman's ripe lips quivered. Once more her color deepened. "Yes, Jarl. I knew the secret. I gave it to them."
For a long, taut moment, Jarl studied her. But as before, the dark eyes were unfathomable.
He turned back to Bor Legat. "So what are your plans?"
"You can guess them, can't you?" the Mercurian chuckled. "All we need is time. You'll buy that for us—you, and the girl, Ylana. Then, when the Federation fleet strikes through the Belt to blast us, we'll have a surprise of our own all ready and waiting for them."
"I see." Jarl nodded slowly, but his mind was racing. Then, pouring savage scorn into his voice, he lashed out at the raiders: "Are you utter fools, you chitzas? Do you rate rey Gundre as a moonstruck idiot?" He laughed, harsh and curt. "He'll strike, all right; but not the way you expect, nor by the path you hope for! He'll know from the start that you plan to trap him! His ships will break through before you have the chance to trap them—"