"I'm afraid we'll have to use some other weapon," Margaret said at last.
"He'll learn, damn him," Wor growled. "We've been patient long enough."
Wor's educational methods consisted of brutal kicks and smashing punches in the ribs. Eldon's progress became almost dangerously phenomenal. He knew he had to improve rapidly, before the plotters changed their plans.
For the blast rod was a bound charge weapon, and he suspected that by mental concentration he could change the resonant frequency of the discharge, perhaps modulate it properly. He would need it, and badly.
"For a one-eyed cripple without the brains of a crawling sbedico he does well enough," Wor conceded at last. "All he needed was firmness."
There was more tiresome waiting, nerve-wracking tense days of it.
And then one evening as the sun was setting Margaret entered and he knew instantly by her avid, hungry look what was to happen. Conditions of shifting coincidence between Sasso and the world of Varda were now favorable and Sin had commanded an Observance. But Eldon shared a secret with Margaret and the scheming military commander. This was to be more than another Observance. This was to be The Night.
A thrill of mingled fear and expectancy ran through him. For an instant his body straightened, but Margaret was too deep in anticipation of unholy ecstasy to notice.
"Come," she ordered.