She smiled. There was nothing sidelong or shy about her. She was bold as a new blade.
"I'll tell you, wild man."
He started. "Where did you pick up that name?"
"I have been asking the Earthman Larrabee about you. It suits you well." She leaned forward. "This is what I want of you. Slay me Egil and his brother Cond. Also Bor, who will grow up worse than either—although that I can do myself, if you're adverse to killing children, though Bor is more monster than child. Grandmother can't live forever, and with my cousins out of the way she's no threat. Treon doesn't count."
"And if I do—what then?"
"Freedom. And me. You'll rule Shuruun at my side."
Stark's eyes were mocking. "For how long, Varra?"
"Who knows? And what does it matter? The years take care of themselves." She shrugged. "The Lhari blood has run out, and it's time there was a fresh strain. Our children will rule after us, and they'll be men."
Stark laughed. He roared with it.
"It's not enough that I'm a slave to the Lhari. Now I must be executioner and herd bull as well!" He looked at her keenly. "Why me, Varra? Why pick on me?"