“This way,” Boghaz Hoi interrupted his thoughts.
They had threaded a shadowy little labyrinth of stinking alleys and the fat Valkisian was squeezing through a narrow door into the dark interior of a little hut.
Carse followed him inside. He heard the whistle of the blow in the dark and tried to dodge but there was no time.
The concussion exploded a bomb of stars inside his head and he felt the rough floor grinding his face.
He awoke with flickering light in his eyes. There was a small bronze lamp burning on a stool close to him. He was lying on the dirt floor of the hut. When he tried to move he found that his wrists and ankles were bound to pegs driven into the packed earth.
Sickening pain racked his head and he sank back. There was a rustle of movement and Boghaz Hoi crouched down beside him. The Valkisian’s moonface was expressive of sympathy as he held a clay cup of water to Carse’s lips.
“I struck too hard I’m afraid. But then, in the dark with an armed man, one has to be careful. Do you feel like talking now?”
Carse looked up at him and old habit made him control the rage that shook him. “About what?” he asked.
Boghaz said, “I am a frank and truthful man. When I saved you from the mob out there my only idea was to rob you.”
Carse saw that his jeweled belt and collar had been transferred to Boghaz, who wore them both around his neck. The Valkisian now raised a plump hand and fingered them lovingly.