Now what was this Brotherhood that the old seer had talked of so raptly? And if it was so important, why hadn't Shan Kar mentioned it?
Eric Nelson stopped suddenly. Green eyes blazed at him from directly ahead in the gloom.
A huge tawny dog crouched there, staring at him. Only it wasn't a dog.
"A wolf," he told himself, as his hand went to the heavy pistol at his belt. "I'm not that drunk."
He was a little drunk, yes, but even so he could see that the beast was too big for a dog, its massive head too wide, its crouching tenseness too feral.
Its green eyes watched him with hypnotic intensity.
Nelson was deliberately raising his gun when a soft voice spoke from the darkness beyond the animal.
"He will not harm you," said a girl's voice in accented Tibetan dialect. "He is — mine."
She came toward him out of the shadows, past the crouching beast.
It was hard to see her clearly because Nelson's vision was obscured by the alcohol in his brain.