He opened his eyes inside a small tight space where the walls were made of a heavy billowing cloth that flapped against a sharp wind. A tent.  Except, the tent was rocking and bouncing like a wagon in motion, and the human men he glimpsed were seated around him on short benches. Eastern-bred, he thought. Dark hair, golden skin.  Holding oddly shaped black sticks in their laps.

Weapons, whispered his instincts, reading danger in all the little details that had nothing do with the objects the men held. It was their cold bored gazes, the uniformity of their youth and odd clothing. Karr knew soldiers when he saw them.

It took only seconds for him to make his evaluation, and less than that to realize he was strapped to a hard wooden plank too small for his body.  The backs of his shoulders rubbed against a cold floor that felt like stone or metal, and thin leather restraints bound his chest, arms, and legs.  He was nearly naked, and smelled like urine and dry bones. None of which was as disturbing to Karr as the fact that he was still alive.  He had been quite clear about the matter.  His friends had promised to murder him.