oins and magnificent shoulders, the small virginal breasts. She moved
as a man moves, without coquetry. A long furred gown, that Stark guessed
had lately graced the shoulders of the king, lay over a chair. She put
it on.

"Well, wild man?"

"I have come to warn you." He hesitated over her name, and she said,

"My mother named me Ciara, if that seems better to you." She gave him
her falcon's glance. "I could have slain you in the square, but now I
think you did me a service. The truth would have come out
sometime--better then, when they had no time to think about it." She
laughed. "They will follow me now, over the edge of the world, if I ask
them."

Stark said slowly, "Even beyond the Gates of Death?"

"Certainly, there. Above all, there!"

She turned to one of the tall windows and looked out at the cliffs and
the high notch of the pass, touched with greenish silver by the little
moons.

"Ban Cruach was a great king. He came out of nowhere to rule the
Norlands with a rod of iron, and men speak of him still as half a god.
Where did he get his power, if not from beyond the Gates of Death? Why
did he go back there at the end of his days, if not to hide away his
secret? Why did he build Kushat to guard the pass forever, if not to
hoard that power out of reach of all the other nations of Mars?

"Yes, Stark. My men will follow me. And if they do not, I will go
alone."

"You are not Ban Cruach. Nor am I." He took her by the shoulders.
"Listen, Ciara. You're already king in the Norlands, and half a legend
as you stand. Be content."

"Content!" Her face was close to his, and he saw the blaze of it, the
white intensity of ambition and an iron pride. "Are you content?" she
asked him. "Have you ever been content?"

He smiled. "For strangers, we do know each other well. No. But the spurs
are not so deep in me."

"The wind and the fire. One spends its strength in wandering, the other
devours. But one can help the other. I made you an offer once, and you
said you would not bargain unless you could look into my eyes. Look
now!"

He did, and his hands upon her shoulders trembled.

"No," he said harshly. "You're a fool, Ciara. Would you be as Otar, mad
with what you have seen?"

"Otar is an old man, and likely crazed before he crossed the mountains.
Besides--I am not Otar."

Stark said somberly, "Even the bravest may break. Ban Cruach
himself...."

She must have seen the shadow of that horror in his eyes, for he f