"As I predicted Mistress," Korvaal held out the message cylinder, "they have replied and are readying a space boat to arrive here in five days. You now have a definite opportunity to realize your ambitions for Azwan."

Terron snatched the tube from the outstretched hand and pulled out the message to read. It was true. They would be arriving in five days with their delegation and their pathetic offering. She stood and walked to the window overlooking the roadway leading down into the dry dusty plains.

"It doesn't say how many will be coming."

"I don't think that's a concern," the small man mused, moving closer to Terron, "three or four to run the ship. An ambassador and probably a cultural representative. Certainly nothing to cause you any worry."

"It's not for me to worry old man," she snarled pacing across the floor in her glimmering, long green boots, sword swinging from her belt, "your predictions had better hold true- for your sake."

He eased away from the violent energy she created pacing, "I'm- I'm confident Mistress."

"Confidence is insubstantial, I expect definitely positive from you."

"Well I-"

"Do you have any family Korvaal," Terron turned quickly, her evil eyes blazing.

"Fam- uh, yes. Yes I have a daughter."

Terron's eyes opened wider, gleaming with interest, "A daughter? How old?"

"She'll be, ah she's uh, fifteen Mistress." Korvaal's stomach began twisting.

"I will meet your daughter. Where is she? Bring her here at once."

"Well she's back in our home. In the plains. I don't-"

"At once Korvaal!"

"Yes Mistress." Driven with a rising panic, he fled from the chamber, his mind whirling at the prospects of his only daughter in the clutches of the villainous Terron.

"Haxxor!" Terron shouted demandingly, "Bring me that brat of a girl from the tower."

After a brief interval, Haxxor entered, dragging a slender young girl by the arm. He pulled a chair from the table and plopped her down unceremoniously in front of Terron.

"And how is the pretty young Dee-Ryka today?" Terron bent from the waist and stared at the cowering girl.

"I do not wish to be here," she whimpered, "you have no right to hold me like this."

"No right!?" Terron straightened up, her scarlet lips spreading with a harsh laugh, "I have the only right on this Reb forsaken planet. I"m Terron DeGang, ruler of Belgar. No right indeed."

"Then why do you keep me here?" the girl whined.

"Why do you suppose? You please me, that's why. Don't you like pleasing me?"

"No! I hate you," anger generating confidence.

"My goodness. What do you think of that Haxxor, she hates me."

Terron moved closer, roughly grasping the girl's chin with her long nailed fingers, "Well I don't hate you my dear. I enjoy what you do for me, but I have something far more important in mind this day. As the last of the Rykas, you will be putting your signature to a treaty we are signing with Azwan in a few days. As far as they know, the Rykas are still the official leaders of Belgar and you my dear, will represent yourself as such. Do you understand?"

Shrugging free from the grip on her face, Dee-Ryka stared uncertainly into Terron's yellow-green eyes, "What treaty?"

"Why a mutual peace treaty, right Haxxor? A treaty that lets us send some of our children to Azwan to be educated and raised as model citizens who will then return and impart their wondrous new knowledge to the rest of our wretched inhabitants." Terron began a slow pace again around the chair, "Don't you think that's a splendid idea?"

Warily, the young girl turned her eyes to follow the pacing woman, "You're going to trick them somehow."

"Amazing how clever you are Dee-Ryka. You will be signing what will become the domination of the Azwans by Belgar- or should I say, by me."

"I won't do it. I won't sign anything. You can't make me." Dee-Ryka started to rise. The force of the blow set her ear stinging and a blaze of colour flashed behind her eyes.

"I can make you my dear. I can make you do anything, remember?" Terron smiled slowly but her eyes stayed dead cold, "I'm bringing a friend to the palace for you. She should be here by morning. She is the daughter of Korvaal, my advisor, about your age I would guess. She can join us in our fun. You'll like that won't you."

Dee-Ryka sat trembling, holding her throbbing ear, a bubble of tear struggling down her red cheek.

"Meanwhile, why don't you go back upstairs and make yourself pretty for me. I'll be up shortly. Haxxor!"

Terron waved them from the room, contemplating their departure with the tap of a long nail against her white teeth.

*****

"What schemes have you been up to Korvaal," the older woman demanded, watching him gather up his daughter's belongings and stuff them into a carry bag, "and why are you taking Mella's things?"

Korvaal ignored her and kept on with his packing, his thoughts still in turmoil over the ugly turn of events. He had not considered the possibility of Terron asking about family and was feeling a nervous desperation. He had to be careful, very careful with how he handled this.

"I want to know what's going on," the woman demanded again, moving to block the doorway of the cottage.

"What's going on," Korvaal answered roughly, "is I'm taking Mella with me back to the palace."

"The palace! You're not taking that poor young girl to that witch Terron DeGang? How could you? Why? You know what she is, what's she's like?"

Korvaal began to push past, "It's really none of your business Dame Wen, so be kind enough to let me pass," he pushed harder moving her aside, and left the cottage.

"Reb will punish your evil deeds Korvaal," the woman shouted after the retreating figure.

*****

Nettie Holden wrapped the towel around the slender girl's head and began scrubbing the raven coloured hair briskly.

"Ow! Not so hard Nettie. You'll rub me bald!" Mella reached up to slow her friend's busy hands.

"You want it dry don't you? My goodness, what a lot of fuss over a little fluffing."

"A little flu- ouch! A little fluffing would be bearable but not this grinding that you're doing," she leaned forward, taking the towel into her own hands and gently finishing the job.

"Stop nattering, it stimulates the blood and promotes healthy growth," Nettie carried the wash bowl to the side door and tossed the soapy water out into the side yard, "it didn't do me any harm when I was your age."

Mella peered out from under the towel and grinned widely, "Nettie, you were never my age," she teased.

"I'll have you know youn-"

"Shh! someone's coming. Listen" Mella tossed the towel aside and went to the cottage door.

A rider reigned is his steaming horse in the front yard and leaped down, running for the door, "Mistress Mella? Dame Wen sent me to warn you, your father's on the way here with plans to take you to the palace," he doubled over, hands on thighs, panting.

Mella gaped at the young man as she listened to his hasty message then her hand flew to her mouth in shock and she turned, stunned, into Nettie's embrace.

"There, there dear, gather yourself. What's this all about young man?" she called over the girls shoulder to the puffing rider in the front yard.

"All's I know, Dame Wen said to tell Mella her father intended to take her to Terron DeGang at the palace. He's on his way now with all her things."

"Oh Reb, why?" Mella began to cry and tremble in Nettie's arms.

"You- what's your name-"

"Bryan," the young man answered, staring with sympathy at the pretty young girl.

"Bryan. Quickly, hitch up my carriage," Nettie moved with purpose, taking charge, "we'll get Mella to my brother's house in Roth. She can hide there safely." Taking Mella by the arms she shook her gently, "No one is taking you to that evil place, don't you worry. My brother's family will take care of you but we must hurry before your father has a chance to follow."

She gathered together a few necessities then steered the stricken girl out the door and into the waiting carriage.

"Can you follow us Bryan? Is your mount strong enough?"

"We'll manage ma'am. I'll hang back out of sight to make sure you're not seen."

"Good lad," Nettie jerked the reigns and scolded the horse into a gallop, the tiny carriage bouncing precariously behind. The road to Roth lay a few miles down the valley and soon they were but a dot in a small cloud of dust in the distance.