“You no hold out. Gotta pay. The king-sitter, he want pay. No more spice without you pay. Where the gold? Where the bright rocks?”
This came from the largest of the Xomillas, one with perhaps a shade more intelligence in its narrow, deep set, red-glowing eyes. The others all grunted assent and rolled their heads on short necks in a gesture that apparently meant agreement or support for the leader.
Mendoza looked up then, for a split second, and saw Darzul and Ren. “You gotta save me,” he whimpered. “Sombra, you know the combination to the safe. Open it and give them all that’s there.” He did not add that the safe in the office was almost a decoy, a small black strong-box bolted to the floor beneath a side table, one which held less than ten percent of the riches stashed throughout the mansion.