Slowly, reluctantly, Tark answered, "I hear." He relaxed but not much, "Let us go and find the others."
The torchlight gleamed like blood upon his fangs. "No," said Nelson. "Li Kin and I will go. You'll wait."
Swiftly, over Tark's snarling protest, he pressed home the truth. "You know the outland weapons. You'd be dead before you could spring. You can better avenge Barin by staying alive to fight for the Brotherhood."
"Very well," came Tark's thought finally. Then, suspiciously, "What have you to say to these men, Eric Nelson?"
"I have much to say," answered Nelson grimly, looking at Barin. Then he added ironically, "Don't worry, Tark. Even if I would I can't betray you. You have the best hostage a man can give — his own body!"
Tark growled assent and lay down like a great dog beside the dead boy to wait.
Li Kin said with a terrible lack of emotion, "They are not men, those two. They are butchers. They are lower than the brutes."
He was a very tired man, Li Kin. Nelson could feel the overpowering weariness of his mind. Weary of war and bloodshed and suffering and the pointless days that wandered on to nowhere. Weary of tears that had long ago been shed, of memories that were fainter than forgotten dreams, of the very beating of his heart.
"Let us go," said Nelson and led the way out of the cell.
They found Sloan and Van Voss together in the vast gloomy Council Hall. They were alone. They had a jar of wine on the table between them and their faces in the flaring torchlight were the faces of happy men.