Sheila's answer was steadfast, unshaken, scornful.
"You speak of impossibilities, woman of Videlia."
"Okay!" Ramey nudged Lake. "Now!" And he brushed aside the drape, slipped forward into the retiring chamber where conversed the two women. "Well spoken, Sheila! Maybe her Ladyship will wise up to the fact that Earthmen aren't bought and sold with promises—after a while! Don't move!"
He rapped this last to the Lady Rakshasi as, amber cheeks crimsoning she stirred to rise.
"Stay where you are!" he commanded. "Sheila, come over here. That's right. Now, Rakshasi—where is the Bow your brother stole from me? Speak up! Or by the gods—"
But his answer did not come from the half-open lips of the Videlian princess. It came from a double source; the eyes of Sheila Aiken leaping open in sudden alarm, her cry, "Ramey! Behind you! Look out!"—and from a mocking voice accosting him from the chambers through which he had lately come.
"You want the Bow, Lord Ramaíya? It is right here in my hands—charged and eager to speak! Would you care to hear its message?"
Ramey whirled. Smiling mirthlessly, the Bow drawn to his shoulder, advancing toward him was Lord Ravana!
Ramey cried, "He's bluffing, Lake! That Bow's not fueled! Rush him!"