men? What were the exact words of the Lord Ciaran, and
who was he?

Stark answered, with meticulous care.

Rogain sat for some time lost in thought. He seemed worried and upset,
one hand playing aimlessly with the hilt of his sword. A scholar's hand,
without a callous on it.

"There is one thing more," said Rogain. "What business had you on the
moors in winter?"

Stark smiled. "I am a wanderer by profession."

"Outlaw?" asked the captain, and Stark shrugged.

"Mercenary is a kinder word."

* * * * *

Rogain studied the pattern of stripes on the Earthman's dark skin. "Why
did the Lord Ciaran, so-called, order you scourged?"

"I had thrashed one of his chieftains."

Rogain sighed and rose. He stood regarding Stark from under brooding
brows, and at length he said, "It is a wild tale. I can't believe
it--and yet, why should you lie?"

He paused, as though hoping that Stark would answer that and relieve him
of worry.

Stark yawned. "The tale is easily proved. Wait a day or two."

"I will arm the city," said Rogain. "I dare not do otherwise. But I will
tell you this." An astonishing unpleasant look came into his eyes. "If
the attack does not come--if you have set a whole city by the ears for
nothing--I will have you flayed alive and your body tumbled over the
Wall for the carrion birds to feed on."

He strode out, taking his retinue with him. Balin smiled. "He will do
it, too," he said, and dropped the bar.

Stark did not answer. He stared at Balin, and then at Thanis, and then
at the belt hanging on the peg, in a curiously blank and yet penetrating
fashion, like an animal that thinks its own thoughts. He took a deep
breath. Then, as though he found the air clean of danger, he rolled over
and went instantly to sleep.

Balin lifted his shoulders expressively. He grinned at Thanis. "Are you
positive it's human?"

"He's beautiful," said Thanis, and tucked the cloths around him. "Hold
your tongue." She continued to sit there, watching Stark's face as the
slow dreams moved across it. Balin laughed.

It was evening again when Stark awoke. He sat up, stretching lazily.
Thanis crouched by the hearthstone, stirring something savory in a
blackened pot. She wore a red kirtle and a necklet of beaten gold, and
her hair was combed out smooth and shining.

She smiled at him and rose, bringing him his own boots and trousers,
carefully cleaned, and a tunic of leather tanned fine and sof