Sean moved forward cautiously, his nerves atingle, his strong hands doubled into fists.
He followed the scarlet kilt out of the packed prison room, along an interminable series of passageways that led upward, and finally entered a room about twenty feet wide and thirty feet long.
It was innocent of furniture or decoration. There were no windows.
But standing in the middle of the room was an eight-foot Krak, dwarfing even the seven-foot bulk of his guide.
The scarlet-kilted Krak turned to him.
"Find your answer," the scarlet-kilted Krak said cryptically. He pointed to the Krak, naked save for a kind of breechclout about his loins. "He is your subject."
Sean was staring at his guide, startled out of his usual acceptance of the bizarre and the trite.
"Our audios picked up your plotting," the scarlet-kilted one said. "We do not wish to kill you, you are much more valuable on Karrar. But we cannot have restless humans fired by one like you who thinks we are vulnerable.
"There is a Krak. Kill him if you can." The scarlet-kilted Krak turned to the other standing in the center of the room.
"You have understood my words, Klash? You understand that you will allow this human to do all in his power to kill you. Allow him all liberties until you are convinced that he has run out of ways in which to take your life."