Jonathan shuddered when he finally extinguished them. Beads of cold sweat rose on his forehead. He was growing weaker. His brain could not stand this punishment. He had been subjecting it to too much. It would give, soon. It was not conditioned, as was the Zarathzan's.
He thought fleetingly of last night, with Adatha Za's mouth burning beneath his. Never to know that mouth again! She had trusted in his strength, in his boasts. She had told him of her villa above the sea. Now he was to fail her. He had bragged of a mickey finn. Of brass knuckles. What a crude jest. He had even mentioned—
Jonathan sat upright. He thought.
When Morka Kar saw the club in his hands, he hooted.
"A club! The ape has found a club with which to kill. Lallista! He jests."
Jonathan swung the wood in his hands with easy familiarity. He lifted it above his shoulders, then brought it about viciously. There was a sudden splat.
Morka Kar, still laughing his derision, crumpled and toppled from the ebony seat.
Jonathan discovered his knees shaking. He sat down quickly.
Adatha Za came running, sobbing, laughter.
"You beat him. You beat him. What a strange weapon. What was it? Morka Kar thought it but a club. He did not deign to spend his mental forces on it. But you fooled him!"