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 the other strong-arm lads had explained the situation to him in sign language he decided to co-operate. "Get off his head, Mull," Torbu said. "And untwist that rope, Blon. Owner Drgon wants him in a conversational mood." Qohey was looking at me now, eyes wild. He grunted something, but 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 enunciations." 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. 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?" "Lord Ommodurad," Qohey's voice grated out. "When did he go?" "Yesterday." "You know this Sapphire Palace, Torbu?" "Sure, 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." "Sure, Owner Drgon. The port's easy. Some say it's kind of haunted too but that's just a gag; the Greymen hang out there." "We can take care of the Greymen," I said. "Get fifty of your best men together and line up some air-cars. I want the outfit ready to move in half an hour." "What about this chiseller?" asked Torbu. "Seal him up until I get back. If I don't make it, I know he'll understand." CHAPTER XVII