One of the men leaped to obey, hammering on the massive door that was kept barred from the inside. The other stood goggle-eyed, watching. Then the door opened, spilling a flood of yellow torchlight into the red fog.
"What is it?" cried the men inside. "What has happened?"
"Come out!" gasped Treon. "My cousin is dead, the Lord Egil is dead, murdered by a slave."
He let that sink in. Three or more men came outside into the circle of light, and their faces were frightened, as though somehow they feared they might be held responsible for this thing.
"You know him," said Treon. "The great black-haired one from Earth. He has slain the Lord Egil and got away into the forest, and we need all extra guards to go after him, since many must be left to guard the other slaves, who are mutinous. You, and you—" He picked out the four biggest ones. "Go at once and join the search. I will stay here with the others."
It nearly worked. The four took a hesitant step or two, and then one paused and said doubtfully,
"But, my lord, it is forbidden that we leave our posts, for any reason. Any reason at all, my lord! The Lord Cond would slay us if we left this place."
"And you fear the Lord Cond more than you do me," said Treon philosophically. "Ah, well. I understand."
He stepped out, full into the light.
A gasp went up, and then a startled yell. The three men from inside had come out armed only with swords, but the two sentries had their shock-weapons. One of them shrieked,