as he
wondered helplessly about her fate. Was she already dead? Had she been
made the plaything of some high official? Of McKee or Talbott or both?
This last thought brought red rage flashing into his heart.

They were taken into a huge, gloomy building and down a long corridor.
As they approached it, a sound greatened before them; a rolling muted
thunder of mixed anger, pain, and terror. They entered a long, narrow
corridor, one wall broken at regular intervals by small metal doors.
Mike realized the sound came from beyond these doors--from the angry
throats of prisoners--that this could be nothing other than the city's
prison. There was no doubt of it.

The cavalcade stopped. One of the doors was unlocked and thrown open,
the three pushed roughly inside. The door slammed, the lock was turned
and the guards stalked away as they had come.

The interior of the cell was very dim. Mike blinked his eyes, striving
to pierce the dimness. He opened them and got a surprise. This was
more of a cage than a prison. The entire wall opposite the door
consisted of bars.

The three went forward and stood in mute wonder at what they saw. The
cells were elevated and ran in a circle around an amphitheater--a
great lighted pit--so that the prisoners were spectators at the drama
that went on below.

It was indeed a strange place, this pit, its purpose temporarily
obscure to the three prisoners. It contained great vats of steaming,
multicolored liquids, many tables, a great number and variety of
frames, racks, and instruments.

There were perhaps a dozen men at work down there. They appeared to be
making preparation for what was to follow. Mike wondered about their
occupation, then turned sharply on Nicko.

"What's the matter with you? Why aren't you finding out about this?"

Nicko stared in amazement. "Me? How the devil can I--?"

"The H'Lorkan. He might be able to give you some information. Ask
him!"

Nicko shuddered as though coming out of a daze. "Sure. I guess my
wheels got kind of stopped."

M'Landa, who never seemed to speak unless spoken to, answered Nicko's
questions calmly. Mike watched the two as they conversed; saw Nicko's
increasing indignation and horror. "All right!" Mike snapped. "Don't
keep it to yourself. What did he say?"

"Not much. Just that these are the high priests of the Ptomenties.
They prepare the bodies of the dead for burial and their job is to
make them look so life-like that you wouldn't even k