Tanar wheeled to face Bohar the Bloody.
“I questioned that she was of the same race as you,” snapped Tanar before the girl could reply. “It is inconceivable that one so beautiful could be tainted by the blood of Korsar.”
His face flaming with rage, Bohar laid a hand upon one of his knives and stepped truculently toward the Sarian. “It is death to insult the daughter of The Cid,” he cried, whipping the knife from his sash and striking a wicked blow at Tanar.
The Sarian, light of foot, trained from childhood in the defensive as well as offensive use of edged weapons, stepped quickly to one side and then as quickly in again and once more Bohar the Bloody sprawled upon the deck to a well delivered blow.
Bohar was fairly foaming at the mouth with rage as he jerked his heavy pistol from his gaudy sash and aiming it at Tanar’s chest from where he lay upon the deck, pulled the trigger. At the same instant the girl sprang forward as though to prevent the slaying of the prisoner.
It all happened so quickly that Tanar scarcely knew the sequence of events, but what he did know was that the powder failed to ignite, and then he laughed.
“You had better wait until I have taught you how to make powder that will burn before you try to murder me, Bohar,” he said.
The Bloody One scrambled to his feet and Tanar stood ready to receive the expected charge, but the girl stepped between them with an imperious gesture.
“Enough of this!” she cried. “It is The Cid’s wish that this man live. Would you like to have The Cid know that you tried to pistol him, Bohar?”
The Bloody One stood glaring at Tanar for several seconds, then he wheeled and strode away without a word.