All were armed, but there all similarity ended. One seemed an ordinary enough man, such as might have been seen any day around the docks of Nessus; one of a race I had never encountered in all my journeyings, tall as an exultant and having skin not of the pinkish brown we are pleased to call white, but truly white, as white as foam, and crowned by hair that was white as well. The third was a woman, only just shorter than I and thicker of limb than any woman I had ever seen. Behind these three, seeming almost to drive them before him, was a figure that might have been that of a massive man in armor complete.

They would have passed me without a word if I had allowed it, I think, but I stepped into the middle of the corridor, forced them to halt, and explained my predicament.

“I have reported it,” the armored figure told me. “Someone will come for you, or I shall be sent with you. Meanwhile you must come with me.”

“Where are you going?” I asked, but he turned away as I spoke, gesturing to the two men.

“Come on,” the woman said, and kissed me. It was not a long kiss, but there seemed to be a rough passion in it. She took my arm in a grip that seemed as strong as a man’s.

The ordinary sailor (who in fact did not look ordinary at all, having a cheerful and rather handsome face and the yellow hair of a southerner) said, “You’ll have to come, or they won’t know where to look for you — if they look at all. It probably won’t be too bad.” He spoke over his shoulder as he walked, and the woman and I followed him.

The white-haired man said, “Perhaps you can help me.” I supposed that he had recognized me; and feeling in need of as many allies as I might enlist, I told him I would if I could.

“For the love of Danaides, be quiet,” the woman said to him. And then to me, “Do you have a weapon?”

I showed her my pistol.

“You’ll have to be careful with that in here. Can you turn it down?”