And anyway, even if he told, the fat Valkisian was likely to kill him then to prevent him from telling anyone else the secret.
Boghaz sorrowfully shrugged fat shoulders. “You force me to extreme measures. And I hate that. I’m too chicken-hearted for this work. But if it’s necessary—”
He was reaching into his belt-pouch for something when suddenly both men heard a sound of voices in the alleyway outside and the tramp of heavily shod feet.
Outside, a voice cried, “ There! That is the sty of the Boghaz hog!”
A fist began to hammer on the door with such force that the small room rang like the inside of a drum.
“Open up, there, fat scum of Valkis!”
Heavy shoulders began to heave against the door.
“Gods of Mars!” groaned Boghaz. “That Sark press-gang has tracked us down!”
He grabbed up the sword of Rhiannon and was in the act of hiding it in his bed when the warped planks of the door gave under the tremendous beating, and a spate of armed men burst into the room.