An unrepressed exultation as he strode ahead of the pack-train and with that exultation words came to his lips words intended for himself alone telling him that Mary Standish belonged to him and that until the end of eternity he.

Voice Gift recited his name rank and serial number then tried to add some reassurance. Yes he informed his questioner he was still securely inside his armor. He'd be dead otherwise for his present transportation wasn't pressurized. There would be no problem with opening the emergency hatch to get him out without waiting until the courier was taken aboard some larger ship. In fact even though he was wounded and the integrity of his self-sealing armor had to be considered.
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The weight of the yoke. at last I had entered a building and had descended a long swirling ramp through dank passages. When I was unhooded my yoke had been chained to the wall of a dungeon. The place was lit by a small foul tharlarion lamp set in the wall near the ceiling. I had no idea how far below ground it might be. The floor and the walls were of black stone quarried in giant blocks of perhaps a tone apiece. The lamp dried the stone in its vicinity but on the floor and most of the walls there was a dampness and the smell of mold. Some straw was scattered on the floor. From where I was chained I could reach a cistern of water. A food pan lay near my foot. Exhausted my body aching from the weight of the yoke and the sting of tha lash I lay on the stones and slept. How long I slept I didn't know..
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