"Who knows? And what does it matter? The years take care of
themselves." She shrugged. "The Lhari blood has run out, and it's time
there was a fresh strain. Our children will rule after us, and they'll
be men."
Stark laughed. He roared with it.
"It's not enough that I'm a slave to the Lhari. Now I must be
executioner and herd bull as well!" He looked at her keenly. "Why me,
Varra? Why pick on me?"
"Because, as I have said, you are the first man I have seen since my
father died. Also, there is something about you...."
She pushed herself upward to hover lazily, her lips just brushing his.
"Do you think it would be so bad a thing to live with me, wild man?"
She was lovely and maddening, a silver witch shining among the dim
fires of the sea, full of wickedness and laughter. Stark reached out
and drew her to him.
"Not bad," he murmured. "Dangerous."