The bright glow of lust was shining in the fat man's eyes. Elliot stared at him for a moment, then began packing.
A day later, they arrived at the banks of the Khathyl River, a swirling, slow-moving, wide stream that wound lazily through most of the continent.
Elliot and Blayne kept out of sight in the brush.
"Look out there," Elliot said. He pointed at an island a hundred yards off shore.
"What's out that way?" Blayne asked.
"That's the temple. See the big white building? The natives never come to this side of the river, by the way—the hunting's better over there."
"Give me the glasses," Blayne whispered.
Elliot handed the binoculars over and the fat man stared hungrily at the island.
"See anything?"