Between them, like a suppliant cast from black iron, was Yuruk.
Poised upon their nether tips the stars guarded him.

Head touching his knees, eyes hidden within his folded arms, the black eunuch crouched.
"Yuruk!" There was an unearthly mercilessness in Norhala's voice.
The eunuch raised his head; slowly, fearfully.
"Goddess!" he whispered.

"Goddess! Mercy!" "I saved him," she turned to us, "for you to slay.

He it was who brought those who took the maid who was mine and the helpless one she loved.
Slay him." Drake understood--his hand twitched down to his pistol, drew it.

He leveled the gun at the black eunuch.