After awhile I noticed Torbu standing in front of me with the cat under one arm. Both of them were grinning at me. "Any orders, Owner Drgon?" I found my voice. "Wake him up and prop him in a chair. I want to talk to him." Ex-Owner Qohey didn't much like the idea but after Torbu and a couple of other strong-arm lads had explained the situation to him in sign language he decided to cooperate. "Get off his head, Mull," Torbu said. "And untwist that rope, Blon. Owner Drgon wants him in a conversational mood. You guys are gonna make him feel self-conscious." I had been feeling over my ribs, trying to count how many were broken and how many just bent. Qohey's punch was a lot like the kick of a two-ton ostrich. He was looking at me now, eyes wild. "Qohey, I want to ask you a few questions. If I don't like the answers, I'll see if I can't find quarters for you in the basement annex. I just left a cozy room there myself. There's no view to speak of but it's peaceful." Qohey grunted something. He was having trouble talking around his broken jaw. "The fellow in black," I said, "the one who claimed your place as Owner. You netted him and had your bully boys haul him off somewhere. I want to know where." Qohey grunted again. "Hit him, Torbu," I said. "It will help his enunciation." Torbu kicked the former Owner in the shin. Qohey jumped and glowered at him. "Call off your dogs," he mumbled. "You'll not find the upstart you seek here." "Why not?" "I sent him away." "Where?" "To that place from which you and your turncoat crew will never fetch him back." "Be more specific." Qohey spat. "Torbu didn't much like that crack about turncoats," I said. "He's eager to show you how little. I advise you to talk fast and plain, before you lose a whole raft of lives." "Even these swine would never dare--" I took out the needle-pointed knife I was wearing as part of my get-up. I put the point against Qohey's throat and pushed gently until a trickle of crimson ran down the thick neck. "Talk," I said quietly, "or I'll cut your throat myself." Qohey had shrunk back as far as he could in the heavy chair. "Seek him then, assassin," he sneered. "Seek him in the dungeons of the Owner of Owners." "Keep talking," I prompted. "The Great Owner commanded that the slave be brought to him ... at the Palace of Sapphires by the Shallow Sea." "Has this Owners' Owner got a name? How'd he hear about him?" "Lord Ommodurad," Qohey's voice grated out. He was watching Torbu's foot. "There was that about the person of the stranger that led me to inform him." "When did he go?" "Yesterday." "You know this Sapphire Palace, Torbu?" "Sure," he answered. "But the place is tabu; it's crawlin' with demons and warlocks. The word is, there's a curse on the--" "Then I'll go in alone," I said. I put the knife away. "But first I've got a call to make at the spaceport at Okk-Hamiloth."