“Who are you?” he asked in his gentlest voice. He spoke English to her because they had all been speaking English before. His eyes inspected the room about him, but so quickly she wasn’t likely to realize what he was doing. A great concrete chamber with an iron door of immense thickness, standing open before a dimly lighted passage. The door was like the doors one saw on large walk-in freezers or refrigerators with the big handle and lock on this side.

“Who are you, that’s the question,” she answered, but her tone was as gentle as his tone had been. “Where do you come from? What is it you want?” She appeared powerfully fascinated by him. “Listen, you mustn’t be afraid of us.”

He lay back gazing at her calmly. He realized that his wrists weren’t fettered, and that he could flex his fingers now, that all the sluggishness of his sleep had worn away. He strained imperceptibly against the steel cables. There were perhaps four of these cables binding him to the table.

“What is this, marble on which you’ve bound me?” he asked her. “Why, why am I a prisoner here?”

“Because you destroyed one of us,” she said. She sounded simple, sincere.

“Ah, but I thought that he was trying to destroy me,” said Garekyn. “I came here to speak with you, ask you questions. I made no menacing move towards your friend Benji.” He spoke slowly, almost whispering. “Then your emissary tried to kill me. What could I have done, but what I did?”

She was obviously enthralled. She came closer and closer until the silk of her dress brushed the side of his arm.

“Is this marble? Is this an altar?”

“No, it’s not an altar. Please be still until Armand comes back. It’s a table, that’s all.”

“Marble,” he repeated. “I think it’s an altar. You’re primitive, savage beings. You hunt the city like wolves. This is some sort of place of worship. You mean to kill me on this altar.”

“Utter nonsense,” she said. Her face was beautifully animated, her cheeks rounded as she smiled. “Don’t excite yourself over nothing.” She appeared to mean it. “No one here will harm you. We want to know about you, we want to know what sort of a creature you are.”

He smiled. “I would like to trust you,” he confided. “But how can I? You have me bound and helpless.”

Her eyes appeared to be misting suddenly. Such large dark eyes, with thick lashes, such a fringe of lashes, lashes as lustrous as her hair. Her face was almost blank.

Was she charmed by him, as he was by her?

“Can’t you set me free? Can we talk to one another plainly without all this?” He glanced down again at the cable binding his chest and upper arms to the table. “This marble altar is cold.”