It was a clear, low voice. It had music in it. Campbell would have
loved it if it had croaked, but as it was it made his nerves prick with
sheer ecstasy.
The hook lifted out of the hole it had made, but it didn't go away.
Campbell raised his head a little. The lower edge of the green light
spilled across a pair of sandalled feet. The bare white legs above them
were as beautiful as the voice, in the same strong clear way.
There was a long silence. Marah, the man with the hook, turned his face
partly into the light. It was oblong and scarred and hard as beaten
bronze. The eyes in it were smoky ember, set aslant under a tumbled
crest of tawny hair.
After a long time the woman spoke again. Her voice was different this
time. It was angry, and the anger made it sing and throb like the
Kraylen's drum.
"The Earthman is telling the truth, Marah. Zard sent him. He's here
about the Kraylens."
The big man--a Martian Drylander, Campbell thought, from somewhere
around Kesh--got up, fast. "The Kraylens!"
"He asked for help, and Tredrick sent him away." The light moved
closer. "But that's not all, Marah. Tredrick has found out about--us.
Old Ekla talked. They're waiting for us at the ship!"