"Oh, the slender one. He too will be taken before Highness Sin."
"And Eldon?"
Wor looked annoyed. "Gone. _Came through_ on the seaward side of the
Mountains."
"But why didn't you get him, too?"
Wor was distinctly irked. "We looked. Either he _came through_ below
ground level, in which case he is dead, or the Rebels found him, in
which case he is dead, too. Write him off."
Margaret let a couple of tears roll down her cheeks, but not from grief
over Eldon. She knew that in this strange situation into which she had
been flung she would need a friend and protector.
"What is going to happen to poor helpless me? Oh, won't you help me?"
she asked plaintively. Her eyes expressed open admiration for the
corded muscles rippling beneath Wor's military tunic.
It was an ancient appeal and Margaret realized it had been most
obviously applied. But it worked. Men were so easily handled, even this
Wor. Carefully she hid her satisfaction as he sat down beside her.
She moved a little closer to him as he talked, telling her about his
land and what she could expect. After a while he sheathed his dagger.
Someone tapped on the bulkhead. Wor bellowed and the door opened. The
man who entered raised his hand in a respectful salute, and Margaret
would have given much to understand what he said. But Wor stretched
out one enormous hand and snatched the helmet from her head. The words
became meaningless but she could still see the deference with which Wor
was treated.
After the man had gone and Wor had crammed the helmet back on her head
she was careful by word and look to let him see she understood his
importance. She could almost see his great chest swell. Men were so
simple, when handled properly.
A whistle emitted a warning screech.
"We land in a few minutes," Wor told her. "Do nothing that might anger
Highness Sin. Your life depends upon it."
He rose, snatched her to him in an embrace that was without tenderness
and left her lips bruised. Before she could decide whether to resist or
respond he was gone. A few minutes later the flying machine struck with
a cushioned thump and the sibilant hiss of its engines died.
* * * * *
The two soldiers who escorted her out looked suspiciously at the
helmet Wor had allowed her to retain, but made no attempt to remove
it. The ship had landed in the courtyard of a tremendous castle.
Massive, weather-streaked grey walls soared upward to end high above in
incongruously stream-lined turrets from which projected the ribbed and
finned snouts of strange weapons. Windows were few and small, and the
whole structure looked incredibly ancient.
The two guards hustled her through a circular doorway into a large hall
that formed a startling contrast to the bleak exterior. It was richly
appointed, and the walls were hung with heavy tapestries that glowed
softly in patterns that changed and shifted even as she watched them.
There were many people in the room, soldiers and richly gowned women
with olive skins and dark hair. But again there was contrast, for
standing stiffly against one wall was a rank of perhaps thirty men
and women, all stark naked and all staring straight ahead with blank
unseeing eyes. They did not move a muscle as Margaret was led in,
though other heads turned and the low hum of conversation ceased
abruptly.
Margaret's attention centered almost instantly on the woman occupying
a dais at the far end of the hall, and after that she could not tear
her eyes away. This was Highness Sin, of whom even Wor stood in awe.
Margaret stared and Sin stared back. Except for the difference in
coloring this woman could have been Margaret's twin. She was beautiful,
the white skin of her face and shoulders setting off her revealingly
cut jet gown and ebony hair, and her haughty face wore an expression
of ruthless power. Margaret knew that under similar circumstances she
would have worn the same expression.
The woman raised one exquisitely groomed hand and the guards pushed
Margaret forward, her feet sinking deep into springy carpeting at each
step. Every eye except those of the stiff, unseeing people against the
wall turned to follow her, and Margaret was uncomfortably aware of her
torn and soiled gown and her tangled, uncombed hair.
She looked up at Sin and had an uncomfortable feeling the ruler was
looking into her mind, _understanding_ her.
"So you are the woman who _came through_." Even her voice was
remarkably like Margaret's.
Margaret said nothing.
"Why did you come to my world?" the ruler asked.
"It wasn't any of my doing," Margaret exploded petulantly. "I still
don't know where I am, and I don't think I like it here, and I had
nothing to do with coming. It was all on account of that Eldon's stupid
experiments, and if he hadn't tried to kill Victor--"
"But you are here," Sin interrupted, tightening her sensuous full lips
in a way Margaret recognized as one of her own mannerisms. "Perhaps I
can find use for you."
"Can't you send me back--?"
"Why should I?"
There was no answer to that, and Margaret tried to hide her growing
nervousness. Sin allowed herself a feline smile.
Wor came striding forward. "Highness Sin," he boomed. "I desire to
claim my right to this captive."
Sin's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Margaret's intuition told her the
similarity between them had something to do with her hesitation.
"No. She is not of the Rebels, and therefore you have no captor's
rights. You recognized her as an Outworldling yourself when you gave
her a thought helmet. Thus by custom she is subject to a hearing--if I
so choose."
"Then grant me, Oh Sin--"
"Go pick yourself another plaything. There are several in the slave
pits who still have their minds. I must find out more about this one."
"But--"
"I have spoken."
Wor turned away, disgruntled but not daring to try the dark ruler's
patience further. Sin returned her attention to Margaret.
"Follow me," she ordered. "We will talk in private."
* * * * *
The rooms outdid any Hollywood production for sheer sybaritic elegance.
Sin chose a couch and sank down with a languidness that did not fool
Margaret in the least.
"Don't you want to thank me for saving you from becoming Wor's
plaything?" she asked slyly.
Margaret decided on boldness. There was too much similarity between
them for any successful deception as to character.
"Wor might have made an interesting plaything himself," she retorted.
"But he is yours?"
Sin put her head back against the cushions. Her high, brittle laughter
contained a trace of malice.
"Oh, I must read his thoughts when I tell him that," she said. "Earth
Woman, Wor likes to consider himself rough and masterful. He's a mutant
savage, you know, and if it were not for the Luvans of Great Sasso he
would be only--"
"But he's yours?" Margaret broke in.
Without rising Sin assumed a regal posture. "All who serve Great Sasso
are mine."
Margaret raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
Sin changed the subject abruptly. "There were three of you who _came
through_. One my Forces could not find."
"You mean Eldon?" Margaret asked.
Sin sat up, tensely alert. "Did you say El-ve-don?" she demanded
harshly.
"No. Eldon."