This was their last exchange of free, unguarded speech. For as he had said, the soldiers had spotted them, and a company was moving forward to challenge their approach.
They did so, Gary Lane could not help thinking, in a manner typically Magogean. Not with any warmth or friendliness, but in dictatorial tones of sharp suspicion.
"Hold, there, slaves! Who are you? Whence came you? Whither are you going?"
Gary, haltered shoulder to shoulder beside his friend and comrade, felt Lark O'Day's body stiffen with suppressed rage at this form of address. But like himself, O'Day remained hunched, with head hanging stupidly low, as if both were the witless serfs they pretended to be.
The elderly Kang spoke, as had been agreed, for their group.
"Greetings, O warriors of strength and valor. I am the freedman, Kengu. These are my daughters and their mates. We come from the Twilight Zone to seek employment in the city of Khundru."
"Twilight Zone?" demanded the warrior captain suspiciously. "What were you doing there?"
"For three years," answered Kang, "we labored there in the service of the kraedar Alisur. Now the noble kraedar is dead. We have no master."
He could say this confidently. From a Magogean newscast had been learned of Alisur's recent and opportune demise. That Alisur had been an explorer operating in the Twilight Zone was a feature upon which they had been swift to capitalize.