Thorp tore up the serf's tunic, bound his wrists and ankles, tied them together so that he arched backward like a bow.
"Don't forget me," the serf pleaded. "I'll rot here in the walls."
But Joel was gone.
Subdued indirect lighting illuminated the top floor. Joel paused behind a mirror with Thorp at his elbow. He glanced into Governor Cameron's suite. The rooms were gutted, empty.
He said, "There's only one other apartment up here. That's Priscilla's. He must be there."
"Emperor!" Disgust was heavy in Thorp's voice. "What does he think this is, the pre-Atomic age?"
Joel didn't reply. He was conscious of Tamis' alien scent as he threaded his way between the walls. He could see guards lounging before Priscilla's door.
"That's where he is!" he said savagely. He was trembling, he realized. He drew his paralyzer.
But when he reached the salon, it was empty. He ran through the passage to Priscilla's bedroom, halted, icy fingers squeezing his heart.