His green eyes belied his voice: they drank up the sight of Ilse and her red mouth and her platinum hair as a miser drinks up the sight of his yellow gold.
"You idiot," she whispered. "You man-killing, tempestuous idiot! Zut forgive me, but I love you."
She straightened; faced him fully, eyes unwavering.
"They sent me to you, knowing that you might kill another. They—we need you, Kortha. Hurlgut lies on his back, unable to move. You put him there; you and those terrible arms of yours. But Hurlgut forgave you long ago. You know that! But you don't know—
"You don't know that Guantra keeps him there, with green bessa-mead and white women to amuse him, to make him forget that he rules Mars!"
Kortha started, and his lips drew back from his large white teeth, like the snarl of a hungry leopard. Deep in his corded throat a curse rumbled.
"Guantra. I remember him. An evil smell of a thing!"
"Guantra aspires to power. He has had himself declared Premier of the Council. He wants to turn Mars over to the victors in the Earth-Venus war, with himself as sole power on Mars. He plays politics like a master, does Guantra. Mars, with its rich ore-beds and mines—Mars, the prize of a war that does not concern her. Under a united Mars, she would take her place among the planets beside Earth and Venus as members of the Council of the Trinity. Under the Confederacy, Mars could have done this. Once it was almost accepted. Then—you ran away. And the Earthmen and the Venusians who feared your brains and your body, Kortha—they revoked their acceptance."
"They had agreed. I stayed that long."