Joris grinned. "I didn't want you throwing yourself around. Somebody might have got hurt. Yes, you can move."
Shairn burst out. "I can't understand this, Joris! You, of all people—it's insane!"
"Perhaps. But I think Trehearne would understand." He scowled at his own hands, brooding, and then he said, "It doesn't matter who knows now. I did the forbidden thing. I married a woman of another world, a non-Vardda. I had a son. He wanted to fly the stars. He used to beg me to take him aboard my ship. After all, he was my son, half-Vardda. He thought he could do it. He hid himself away in my cabin and—the Vardda blood had not bred true in him." He glanced briefly at Trehearne. "He was not quite eighteen. I never flew another voyage after that."
He got up, kicking the empty bottle away. "I guess that was why I first gave Trehearne his chance. It seemed to make up in a way for—"
He broke off abruptly. "Well, that's over and done with. We have other things to think about and not much time to do them in. Trehearne, you've upset my plans rather badly by fetching in Miss Spitfire here."
"It wasn't intentional." He went to Joris. "Is it true then? You're going to get Edri free?"
"I'm going to try. You see, this is a thing I could only do once. I've had to sit here for years, watching more than one good man go out to Thuvis, waiting—waiting for the time when I could make my action really count. Now it's here." He turned and glowered at Shairn. "The main question is—what are we going to do with you?"
She answered him angrily and without fear. "Whatever you do you'll live to regret it!"
"H'm," said Joris. "Tie her up again, Trehearne."
He did so with immense pleasure. This time he used stouter bonds and took extra pains with the knots.