Hurlgut looked surprised, exclaiming, "Why, Guantra will not let you broadcast, Kortha. He will destroy Ruuzol first. He threatened to, in fact."
"But he can't. Not until I've made my speech to Mars, told them how he and I will unite—"
Ilse touched her temple and her heart, looking at Hurlgut, nodding toward Kortha. Then Kortha was whirling on her, saying, "Get me to a magnifone. I'll speak to Guantra's ship, tell him what I intend to do. The surprise is off, Ilse—but the speech can still be made!"
Suddenly Kortha swayed a little. He put a hand to his forehead. This was all wrong! Ilse and Hurlgut were his friends! No, no. It was Guantra who was his friend. Guantra has always befriended me. He gave me my start. It is with him that my fortune lies. I must tell him so.
But Ilse?
Look at her, man. Look at her blue eyes again. They are so serious, so sad, as she watches you. There is naught of the wanton there. A wanton would laugh and giggle and be gay. Instead there is yearning and sorrow and love in her eyes as she regards you.
And Hurlgut?
He lay helpless in his cushions, unable to move below the waist. He looked at Kortha, too, and there was pity in his eyes. Kortha did not fight with men who could not walk to meet him. Did Guantra? He had the sharp, hard conviction that he must know the answer to that. It might help him decide incongruities.
Kortha sighed. He wished that he could solve this enigma that turned him inside-out in puzzlement. He found himself liking Ilse and Hurlgut, even knowing what he did to them; and learned he was close to hating Guantra. Guantra had the power. Hurlgut was a cripple, and Ilse a girl. Could Guantra fight them with the armies and the fleets of Mars, and still hold his head high? Could—he?