"I make no plea, yellow man," she said haughtily.
The Japcan warriors muttered amongst themselves. Grensu's ripe lips pursed irately.
"You do not understand, ivory one. I offer you one last opportunity. Pledge fealty to me at even this late moment and your life will be spared. Your wounds will be soothed by our healers, and, yes, even now Grensu will permit you the great honor of becoming his mate." His slant eyes probed hers. "Well, Woman? What is your answer?"
A laugh of sheer hysteria; a laugh that was half a sob, broke from Meg's throat. She stepped toward the little yellow commander.
"This is my answer!"
And she spat squarely in the dwarfling's face!
Grensu turned livid. Beneath his yellow skin the blood surged unhealthily, turning him to a sallow parody of a man. Fat fingers shook as he wiped his face, screamed viciously, "Seize her! Put her to the sword, Leekno! No—wait!"
Flames of pure hatred danced from his eyes. "Who defiles the haughty blood of Japcan shall not die thus painlessly. Her death shall be a slow one; one in which, shrieking for mercy, she shall have time to remember this moment!"
He stood quivering, shaken, searching the dregs of his mind for a fitting torment. Meg, waiting, saw from the corner of her eye a faint movement to her right. The Warrior Chieftain, Lora, had stolen close to one of the stunted invaders; her hand was even now reaching for his sword. Meg knew the meaning of that trial. Lora well knew she had no chance to fight or escape; her sole purpose was to clutch that sword and plunge it through Meg's heart to spare the priestess worse horrors. Then, though both of them died, their deaths would be clean and welcome....
Meg wrenched her eyes away; tensed her body for the moment of cold fire. And then—