This confused me. “You mean the captai… my friends aren’t here too?”

“Naw. The Renks laid a trap for ’em. Me an’ my friends were lucky to get you.”

“Renks? Who are they? Are they Nomorts?” My suspicions of Earl Dragonlord flared. Had he led our party into an ambush?

But that didn’t make sense! We had been following Earl toward the hill of castles he called home. Why should he abduct victims who were already heading into his lair?

“Renks is a kind of Zoomz,” Lorg said, with a shiver and a shake of his head. “They swarmed over y’all. We hardly had time to—”

“Shut up, Lorg!”

A new, harsh voice cut in, making us both startle and turn. At the entrance to the underground chamber, three more Lik’ems had appeared, even larger than my host. Foremost among the newcomers was a giant figure, bulging out of his clothes, which resembled some kind of striped tracksuit, with a sweater draped over the shoulders. Pale yellow fur stood on end with rage, and his curling tusks made Lorg look like a poster boy for Orthodontia Monthly.

“Besh!” Lorg cried out. “I was just—”

“Playing with your food again, I know.” The bigger Lik’em sauntered in – if one can “saunter” with tree-like arms that almost brush the floor. “How many times do I haveta tell you? If you talk to it, that only makes it harder to eat.”

The other two Lik’ems leaned against the door and chortled, a sound vaguely like what an engine might say, after being fed a treat of corundum sand. Lorg turned red – in those few bare patches showing through his matted pelt.

“Uh, Besh, I don’t think this’s food at all. It… he ain’t like any Standard I ever seen.”

“Nonsense! Look at him! X’cept for that funny nose, and those flattish eyes, that silly chin, and smooth fore’ead—”

What funny nose? I thought, a bit put out.

“Besides, what were Renks doing out there? Hunting for partners in a game of spin the skull? They must want this meat pretty bad, risking a foray into our urb like that.”

“Exactly!” Lorg said, gaining some feeling in his voice. “You ever see that happen before? Or for that matter, you ever see Standards come strolling through the urb at night? With a moon full? I tell you, them Renks wanted somethin’ more’n just Standard flesh.”

Besh seemed torn between affront at Lorg’s daring to talk back, and interest in the possibilities he’d raised.

“Not a regular Standard, eh? Maybe something tastier?”

“Maybe something a whole lot more dangerous,” I interjected, speaking with more steadiness than I felt inside.

Besh looked me over, and barked a savage laugh. He ambled toward me with an air of relish… and mustard and mayonnaise, I’d wager.