The fellow took them like a whipped cur and subsided after a single weakly blustering, “We’ll see about that.” He turned to a book that lay open before him. “What is your name?” he asked, nodding in Kamlot’s direction. Even his nod was obnoxious.
“Kamlot of Zar,” replied my companion.
“What is your profession?”
“Hunter and wood carver.”
“You are a Vepajan?”
“Yes.”
“From what city of Vepaja?”
“From Kooaad,” replied Kamlot.
“And you?” demanded the officer, addressing me.
“I am Carson of Napier,” I replied, using the Amtorian form; “I am a Vepajan from Kooaad.”