"You have animal cunning, priestess of a barbarian race," spat the Japcan commander. "I erred in believing you docile. Henceforth your taming will be that of the scourge and the chain."
Meg said nothing. But she noticed, her head lifting proudly, that some of the little man's confidence had deserted him, and that as he spoke he moved his stiff neck gingerly from side to side. There was throttling strength in the crook of Meg's elbow.
Leekno, his sallow face rebellious, was at Grensu's side.
"What is your command, O Grensu? Shall we destroy the white-limbed one?"
Leadership and desire met in conflict on Grensu's swart features. "The woman pleases me—" he growled.
"She slew," reminded the lesser officer, "Togi, Ras and Yinga. Two others lie wounded. It is written in the Law 'Death shall be punished with death—'"
"I know the Law!" snapped Grensu. "But now we are not in Mayco. Here, I am the Law. And I am minded to—" A hesitation halted his words. Of Meg he demanded, "Make your plea, Woman. Grensu listens."
There was a coursing pain in Meg's arm that began at her fingertips, sped through forearm and upper arm, spread even to the rest of her body, turning her stomach with nausea. Her heart was sick with disappointment. Almost had she succeeded. But "almost" was a bitter draught from the waters of might-have-been.
This day, which had dawned so fair and with such great hopes, had become a leaden weight to her heart. There was nothing, now, worth living for. Daiv, her mate, in combat had proven a coward. The beloved Mother of her Clan lay dying. A score of her sisters were pellets of death, heaped in a pile of rubble. Her last, desperate attempt at freedom had failed.