thinking only of Nebu-hin-Abenoz, Safar receive him--"

Antrath Alv bent over the one he had hand-chopped.

"I didn't kill this one," he said. "The way I hit him, if I had, his
neck would be broken, and it's not. See?" He twisted at the dead man's
neck. "I think they took poison before they drew their knives."

"I saw all of them put their hands to their mouths!" a Calera
exclaimed. "And look; see how their jaws are clenched." He picked up
one of the knives and used it to pry the dead man's jaws apart,
sniffing at his lips and looking into his mouth. "Look, his teeth and
his tongue are discolored; there is a strange smell, too."

Antrath Alv sniffed, then turned to his partner. "Halatane," he
whispered. Gathon Dard nodded. That was a First Level poison;
paratimers often carried halatane capsules on the more barbaric
time-lines, as a last insurance against torture.

"But, Holy Name of Safar, what manner of men were these?"
Coru-hin-Irigod demanded. "There are those I would risk my life to
kill, but I would not throw it away thus."

"They came knowing that we would kill them, and took the poison that
they might die quickly and without pain," a Calera said.

"Or that your tortures would not wring from them the names and nation
of those who sent them," an elderly man in the dress of a rancher from
the southeast added. "If I were you, I would try to find out who these
enemies are, and the sooner the better."