As his thoughts raced to find a way out, his senses brought him something else to worry about. Kyra and Fern were with the villagers, and the dance and music he had been vaguely conscious of as part of a festival occasion, he noticed now had the same cruel undertones as the voice of the priest before him. It would not take much for Kyra and Fern to become prisoners of these people.
‘Speak,’ the fat priest said now, smiling again, knowing that he had made his point and could afford to hide the barb of his threat once more under his ingratiating manner.
Karne could see a bowl of water to the left of the tent.
He rose and boldly took it in his hands.
The man watched warily, the hand with the ring tensed for action.
But Karne showed no sign of threatening him. Standing as tall and command
