"That's it. You might have expected something like this for being seen with men like Ars Lugo."
Mora looked up into the officer's face. "I can't understand you, Lolan. You're supposed to be second in command of the race that oppresses us. Yet you risked death to hide that bracelet, and undoubtedly you've taken the same risk to come here."
"Don't try to understand me. Simply do as I say. Arzt has appointed me to execute you within four days. I—I can't do it, that's all. So I'm going to try to dodge the issue by letting you escape. Beyond the city there's a pursuit ship loaded with food and a pair of pistols. With that outfit you can make it to Lyna or some other settlement where you won't be known. But you've got to do it tonight!"
Atarkus snorted. "Leave our people when they need us most? Never!"
Lolan's eyes narrowed. "When they need us most," the ex-emperor had said. Why were they needed especially now—because of a coming revolution? He drove the question from his mind. "Don't quibble!" he snapped. "I can't promise you more than a few hours' leeway. You've got to leave within the hour."
"It's no use," Mora smiled wearily. "Our people look up to us for the answer to every problem that arises. What would they think of us if we ran out now?"
"What good will you be to them dead?" Lolan argued desperately. "Arzt means to have you out of the way once and for all. You're dangerous and he knows it. Get your things together and let's go!" The flush of repressed fear colored the flat angles of his jaws. His mind was a whirlpool of hope and regret—regret at losing Mora forever, though he could never own her; a deep soul-sickness at the idea of sending a force-charge into her lovely body....
But Mora was shaking her head and Atarkus had smashed his fist on the table. "Arzt can't scare us!" the aged monarch scorned. "They say we Venusians are weak, that we don't know how to fight. Some day soon the butcher will learn differently." His eyes grew softer. He laid his bony hand on Lolan's hard forearm. "I know your position, young man. You have taken a liking to us for some reason—I think I know what it is—and the thought of killing us disturbs you. Perhaps you won't have to perform that duty—"
Suspicion and wonder blended into the creases of Lolan's forehead. "Then you won't go?" he breathed.
"We can't," Mora told him. "But you have our gratitude for all you've done."