Rohbar was quiet again, in the hands of his captors. He now spoke, almost as gently as Elonie: "I have no friends here. The fight might not be fair."
"Nonsense," I snapped, and looked past the little group. There was a face I knew—the man with the deep voice. "You," I hailed him, "come here."
He came respectfully, and stood at attention.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Klob is my name, great Yandro. Under-officer of the guard."
"Klob, do you know Rohbar?"
"I do, sir."
"If I, Yandro, ordered you to act as second for a man in a duel, would you perform the office faithfully?"
He braced more stiffly to attention. "Though I died for it, sir."
"You shall not die, but be commended if you do well. Represent Rohbar in the formal duel he is about to fight."