"Where are these Caves—" Garin's question was interrupted by the pealing of the Cavern gong. Sera cried out:
"The Black Ones!"
Urg shrugged. "When they spared not the Ancient Ones how could we hope to escape? Come, we must go to the Hall of Thrones."
Before the jade throne of the Lord of the Folk stood a small group of the lizard-men beside two litters. As Garin entered the Lord spoke.
"Let the outlander come hither that he may see the work of the Black Ones."
Garin advanced unwillingly, coming to stand by those struggling things which gasped their message between moans and screams of agony. They were men of the Folk but their black skins were green with rot.
The Lord leaned forward on his throne. "It is well," he said. "You may depart."
As if obeying his command, the tortured things let go of the life to which they had clung and were still.
"Look upon the work of the Black Ones," the ruler said to Garin. "Jiv and Betv were captured while on a mission to the Gibi of the Cliff. It seems that the Black Ones needed material for their laboratories. They seek even to give the Daughter to their workers of horror!"
A terrible cry of hatred arose from the hall, and Garin's jaw set. To give that fair vision he had just seen to such a death as this—!