t as silk.
Stark asked her where she got it.

"Balin stole it--from the baths where the nobles go. He said you might
as well have the best." She laughed. "He had a devil of a time finding
one big enough to fit you."

She watched with unashamed interest while he dressed. Stark said, "Don't
burn the soup."

She put her tongue out at him. "Better be proud of that fine hide while
you have it," she said. "There's no sign of attack."

Stark was aware of sounds that had not been there before--the pacing of
men on the Wall above the house, the calling of the watch. Kushat was
armed and ready--and his time was running out. He hoped that Ciaran had
not been delayed on the moors.

Thanis said, "I should explain about the belt. When Balin undressed you,
he saw Camar's name scratched on the inside of the boss. And, he can
open a lizard's egg without harming the shell."

"What about you?" asked Stark.

She flexed her supple fingers. "I do well enough."

* * * * *

Balin came in. He had been seeking news, but there was little to be had.

"The soldiers are grumbling about a false alarm," he said. "The people
are excited, but more as though they were playing a game. Kushat has not
fought a war for centuries." He sighed. "The pity of it is, Stark, I
believe your story. And I'm afraid."

Thanis handed him a steaming bowl. "Here--employ your tongue with this.
Afraid, indeed! Have you forgotten the Wall? No one has carried it since
the city was built. Let them attack!"

Stark was amused. "For a child, you know much concerning war."

"I knew enough to save your skin!" she flared, and Balin smiled.

"She has you there, Stark. And speaking of skins...." He glanced up at
the belt. "Or better, speaking of talismans, which we were not. How did
you come by it?"

Stark told him. "He had a sin on his soul, did Camar. And--he was my
friend."

Balin looked at him with deep respect. "You were a fool," he said. "Look
you. The thing is returned to Kushat. Your promise is kept. There is
nothing for you here but danger, and were I you I would not wait to be
flayed, or slain, or taken in a quarrel that is not yours."

"Ah," said Stark softly, "but it is mine. The Lord Ciaran made it so."
He, too, glanced at the belt. "What of the talisman?"

"Return it where it came from," Thanis said. "My brother is a better
thief than Camar. He can certainly do that."

"No!" said Balin, with surprising force. "We will