hatred and his desire for revenge.

He jerked his mind back to the present, to Mytor.

"And if I told you that it must be her life or yours?" Mytor was
asking him.

Ransome's eyes widened. He sensed that Mytor's last question was not,
an idle one. He leaned forward and asked:

"How do you fit into this at all, Mytor?"

"Easily. Once, ten years ago, you and the woman now aboard the _Hawk
of Darion_ blasphemed together against the Temple of the Dark One, in
Darion."

"Go on," Ransome said.

"When you landed here this afternoon the avenging priests were not far
behind you."

"How did you--"

"I have many contacts," Mytor purred. "I find them invaluable. But you
are growing impatient, Mr. Ransome. I will be brief. I have contracted
with the priests of Darion to deliver you to them tonight for a
considerable sum."

"How did you know you would find me?"

"I was given your description." He made a gesture that took in all the
occupants of the torch-lit room. "So many of the hunted, and the
haunted, come here to forget for an hour the things that pursue them.
I was expecting you, Mr. Ransome."

"If there is a large sum of money involved, I'm sure you'll make every
effort to carry out your part of the bargain," Ransome observed
ironically.

"I am a businessman, it is true. But in my dealings with the master of
the _Hawk of Darion_ I have seen the woman and I have heard stories.
It occurred to me that the priests would pay much more for the woman
than they would for you, and it seemed to me that a message from you
might coax her off the ship. After all, when one has been in love--"

"That's enough." Ransome had risen to his feet. "I wonder if I could
kill you before your guards got to me."

"Are you then so in love with death, Ransome?" The Venusian spoke
quickly. "Don't be a fool. It is a small thing, a woman's life--a
woman who has betrayed you."

Ransome stood silent, his arm halfway to his blaster. The woman had
begun to dance again in the red glare of the torch.

"There will be other women," the Venusian was murmuring. "The woman
who dances now, I will give her to you, to take with you in your new
ship."

Ransome looked slowly from the glowing body of the woman to the guards
around the walls, down into Mytor's confident face. His arm dropped
away from the blaster.

"Any man--for a price." The Venusian's murmur was lost in the blare of
the music. Ransome had eased his lean body back into the chair.