."

He watched, shaken between awe and pride and remorse, as Stark unwrapped
the bit of silk.

Stark had discounted most of Camar's talk as superstition, but even so
he had expected something more spectacular than the object he held in
his palm.

It was a lens, some four inches across--man-made, and made with great
skill, but still only a bit of crystal. Turning it about, Stark saw that
it was not a simple lens, but an intricate interlocking of many facets.
Incredibly complicated, hypnotic if one looked at it too long.

"What is its use?" he asked of Camar.

"We are as children. We have forgotten. But there is a legend, a
belief--that Ban Cruach himself made the talisman as a sign that he
would not forget us, and would come back when Kushat is threatened. Back
through the Gates of Death, to teach us again the power that was his!"

"I do not understand," said Stark. "What are the Gates of Death?"

Camar answered, "It is a pass that opens into the black mountains beyond
Kushat. The city stands guard before it--why, no man remembers, except
that it is a great trust."

His gaze feasted on the talisman.

Stark said, "You wish me to take this to Kushat?"

"Yes. Yes! And yet...." Camar looked at Stark, his eyes filling suddenly
with tears. "No. The North is not used to strangers. With me, you might
have been safe. But alone.... No, Stark. You have risked too much
already. Go back, out of the Norlands, while you can."

He lay back on the blankets. Stark saw that a bluish pallor had come
into the hollows of his cheeks.

"Camar," he said. And again, "Camar!"

"Yes?"

"Go in peace, Camar. I will take the talisman to Kushat."

The Martian sighed, and smiled, and Stark was glad that he had made the
promise.

"The riders of Mekh are wolves," said Camar suddenly. "They hunt these
gorges. Look out for them."

"I will."

Stark's knowledge of the geography of this part of Mars was vague
indeed, but he knew that the mountain valleys of Mekh lay ahead and to
the north, between him and Kushat. Camar had told him of these upland
warriors. He was willing to heed the warning.

Camar had done with talking. Stark knew that he had not long to wait.
The wind spoke with the voice of a great organ. The moons had set and it
was very dark outside the tower, except for the white glimmering of the
snow. Stark looked up at the brooding walls, and shivered. There was a
smell of death already in the air.

To keep from thinking, h