"Only one way to find out," he grunted. Marching to the tall, wooden door, Hecar slammed his fist against it. The sound against the wood echoed loudly. Anyone within would have to acknowledge such a racket.

Yet there was no answer. Hecar slammed his fist against the door again. He waited for what he thought a reasonable time, then snorted in annoyance. Either Jopfer's entire household had departed or everyone within was ignoring visitors. His short time in Nethosak made Hecar seriously consider the latter. Was there some reason that Jopfer would fear visitors?

"Come on, you bookworm!" he growled under his breath. "Answer!"

Still no one came. Stubborn as he was, the minotaur finally tired of waiting. If his friend was not available, then Hecar's only recourse was to go to his own clan house. He was not certain how the clan would greet him. after his and his sister's decision to stay away, but certainly, after all this time, they could not still be angry with the pair. The others of their party who had returned to Nethosak after that idiotic chase would have explained Hecar's and Helati's reasons for remaining behind. All except Scum, of course, but then he would have returned in shame. No one would have listened much to him.

The sun was already dipping downward. Hecar grimaced, realizing that if he visited the House of Orilg, he would be required to stay the night. It would be a dishonor to the clan if he appeared after an absence so long, only to leave again an hour or two later. The patriarch would certainly think ill of him, something Hecar did not desire. Orilg could not boast of an emperor on the throne in some seven generations-a point of great aggravation-yet Orilg was still one of the strongest clans. Falling out of favor with the present patriarch would have repercussions, especially where Hecar's immediate family was concerned.

His thoughts entangled over the proper way to present himself to his lord, Hecar did not at first notice the small form darting by. Only when it collided with him did the minotaur take notice of the gully dwarf.

"Sorry, Great One! Galump is sorry!" The dwarf bowed quickly, then ran off, his litter bag falling to the ground as he rushed away in near panic.

"You! Come back here!" His cry went unheeded. Hecar watched as the gully dwarf disappeared into the shadows. He was one of the quickest of the short creatures the minotaur had ever seen.

Hecar had more important things to concern himself with than chasing a gully dwarf whose only crime was carelessness. The dwarf would likely be punished for losing his bag, and in the process littering the very streets he was supposed to clean. But despite the compassion for unfortunate creatures that Hecar had learned from his sister's mate, the minotaur could do nothing to help save pick up the bag and place it neatly to the side.

He was just in the process of doing that when he heard the clink of metal. Tensing, Hecar stretched his hands around toward his back. Most minotaurs favored heavy battle-axes and many, including Hecar, carried them in back harnesses. All he had to do was reach a few inches more, and the axe would be in his grasp, ready to taste the blood of any adversaries.

"May Sargas watch over you, Brother," intoned a voice.

Hecar lowered his hands as he turned. He knew the imperious tone, as did all minotaurs. A cleric of the Holy Orders of the Stars. To humans, a minotaur cleric might seem a somewhat humorous sight, for, unlike Hecar and most of his kind, who wore kilts and armor but little else, a cleric was usually clad in a solemn black robe covering him or her from foot to head. The hood and shoulders of the robe were crimson. Both colors were said to be favored by Sargas himself.

Only the cleric's muzzle was visible, the rest of his face shadowed by the hood. His hands were clasped together and, as he walked toward Hecar, there was the faint clink of metal, indicating that under his garment the robed figure was both armed and armored.

Behind him trailed a pair of warriors with the look of the guard on their cold features. Members of the guard were generally recruited from the more fanatical warriors in the armies. This pair carried long swords as opposed to axes and looked ready to run Hecar through if he dared resist.

And what is it I'm supposed to resist? wondered the traveler. "May your ancestors guide you, Brother."

"You have business with Jopfer de-Teskos?"

"I sought out an old friend, Cleric. He wasn't home."

"So I know. How do you know him, Brother?" The cleric reached up and pulled back his hood. The cleric was surprisingly gaunt for a minotaur and much younger than Hecar would have guessed. However, the chill eyes warned that it would be a mistake to cross him.

"He's an old friend. I've just arrived here and thought I would visit since I was close by."

"Did you come by ship?"

A slight sound behind him warned Hecar that the three figures were not alone. He gave no sign that he had heard the others sneaking up behind him, but shifted so as to get his hands as close to his axe as he dared without giving his movements away. "Aye, I came from a ship. Been away for a while."

The cleric nodded, mouth set. He neither smiled nor frowned. "The Gladiator, wasn't it?"

Hecar twitched before he could control himself. He had given the name to the old male on the dock, not long before. "Aye, Gladiator."

The cleric nodded, closed his eyes, and a moment later uttered, "The Gladiator, lost at sea more than a decade ago. Nearly all hands lost with it." He opened his eyes and stared without emotion at the tense Hecar. "Therefore, you could not have just arrived on it."

Hecar said nothing. His hands were close to the handle of his axe. Any nearer and he would be committing himself to battling a cleric of high standing in the orders, not to mention several members of the guard. Yet, what could he do? He was not as clever as Helati's mate. Not nearly as clever as Kaz.

"What is your name?"

He was still debating how he should answer when one of the warriors behind him announced, "His name's Hecar, of the clan Orilg, Holiness. I thought I recognized him earlier."

The voice was so familiar that Hecar dared peek over his shoulder. There were three minotaurs behind him, one with a sword and the other pair with axes. It was one of the latter who had spoken. The tall, scarred figure grinned at him.

"Your house, is it not, Captain Scurn?" the cleric asked.

"The guard is my clan now, Holiness."

"Scurn?" When last he had seen the disfigured minotaur, Scurn had been an object of pity, defeated in combat by Kaz. The other minotaurs had been forced to lead their companion by hand from Solamnia all the way back to the empire, so broken was he by his loss. This incarnation, however, did not look at all defeated. In fact, he looked even uglier and more vicious than Hecar could ever recall.

"We are always happy to welcome a lost one back into the fold," commented the cleric. "Come with us, Brother Hecar."

Scurn and the other minotaurs closed in.

Hecar reached for his axe… and found that something held it firmly in its harness. The minotaur pulled harder but, despite his great strength, the axe remained stuck fast.

The gully dwarf? He was the only one who had come within touching distance of Hecar. Had he done something to the harness when they had collided?

Hecar glanced around, judged the expressions on the guards, and decided that he was surrounded and defenseless.

What, he wondered, would Kaz do under these circumstances? Of course, being far more clever, Kaz would not have made such a journey in the first place. He had warned Hecar from doing it, but the latter had been too curious and headstrong.

What would Kaz do in his position? There was really only one choice. If Scum was the captain of this lot, going voluntarily with them did not vouchsafe Hecar's continued well-being.