"Below," said Croft, sensing Lakkon stiffen at his side. "Do you wish her still?"
"Do I wish her? Adita, goddess of beauty, was she not promised me for myself as a part of the price?" Bzad roared.
Again Croft lifted an arm. Men appeared with rifles in their hands. "Then if so be you wish her, come and take her, aid of Zollaria and man of an unclean tribe. If you wish her, come and take her from a ship of Aphur, Bzad."
And now the Mazzerian understood at last. He started back and raised his voice: "Aboard them—strike, slay! We are betrayed. Let none live save the maid of the yellow hair!"
His men were no cowards. They rallied to his cry. Seizing weapons they hurled themselves toward the close lashed rails.
"Fire," said Croft, as an arrow whistled between himself and Lakkon.
His men responded with a will. This was the first trial of the new weapon in actual war. They fired and loaded and fired again. On board Bzad's vessel men fell. They slumped to the deck or toppled back from the rail which they had reached.
Bzad appeared among them. He was beside himself with rage. He sprang on the rail. A sailor fired pointblank in his face and missed him. He reached the deck and charged with drawn sword toward Lakkon and Croft.
With a strange tingle running through his entire body, Croft drew his own sword and set himself before Aphur's prince. And then, before they could come together, Bzad staggered and fell. The sailor had not missed his second shot.
Bzad struggled for a moment. He forced himself halfway up and sank back. His limbs twitched oddly for a moment, and he died.