In the great cell beneath Sephar's streets, Tharn, Katon, Vulcar, Rotark, Brosan, Brutan and Gorlat squatted in a group about a huge earthen bowl of stewed meat. They, together with the balance of the prisoners, had been aroused from sleep an hour before sunrise, and had been given food that their strength and endurance might be equal to the tasks ahead.
Katon, seated across from Tharn, caught the Cro-Magnard's eye and nodded significantly.
"For a man who may be dead within a few hours," he said grimly, "you seem very cheerful."
Tharn grinned. "Would you have me seek out Pryak and beg for my life?"
The others laughed. Brutan put down a bone from which he had gnawed the meat, and belched with frank satisfaction. "I will show them how a real man fights!" he declared. "With my bare hands I once slew a leopard!"
Brosan made a derisive sound. "It must have been a very old leopard."
Brutan's complacent expression vanished. "You lie!" he bellowed, glaring belligerently at his heckler. "It was a great, full-grown—"
"Quiet, you fool!" snapped Katon. "This is no time to start a brawl."
Brutan mumbled something under his breath and went back to his bone.