lls me that in time to come your path
will lead you down into the valley and my road will take me up the
mountain-side,...until even our voices shall no longer reach across."
He came out of his dreaming abruptly. "It is not worth while to speak
further. I do not blame my foster-father that he is lifting the corner
of his mouth at me. And you--you think I am talking in my sleep. Leave
me, as I ordered you. There is no unfriendliness in my mind at this, but
I can command myself no further. Go."

Rothgar said, with some approach to formal courtesy, "I ask you to
pardon it that I have done what you dislike, for I wish that the least
of all the world. And I give you thanks for your gift." Their hands
clasped strongly as the trinket passed from grasp to grasp.

Then the sage and the soldier turned and strode past the cowering figure
of Randalin and out of the linen doorway.

Chapter V. Before The King

Know if thou hast a friend
Whom thou little trustest
Yet wouldst good from him derive
Thou shouldst speak him fair,
But think craftily,
And leasing pay with lying.
Ha'vama'l.

When the curtain had fallen behind his advisers, the young King threw
himself back upon his rude high-seat and rested motionless among its
cushions, his head hanging heavily upon his breast.

Crouching on her bench near the door, Randalin watched him as a fly
caught in a web watches the approaching spider. She had forgotten her
errand; she had forgotten her disguise; she had forgotten where she was;
her one conscious emotion was fear. Her eyes followed his roving glance
from spear to banner, from floor to ceiling, in terrible anticipation.
It approached her; it turned aside; it passed above her, hesitated,
sank, touched her! Ashen-white, she staggered to her feet and faced him.

A lithe boyish figure with wide boyish eyes and a tanned boyish
face,--Canute gazed incredulously; rubbed his eyes and looked again.

"In the Troll's name, who are you?" he ejaculated. "How came you here?"

The pale lips moved, but no sound came from them.

Their fruitless twitching seemed to irritate him. He made a petulant
gesture toward the half-filled goblet. "Why do you stand there making
mouths? Drink that and get a man's voice into your throat, if you have
anything to say to me."

"A man's voice!" The girl stared at him. "A _man_'s voice?" Then, like
lungfuls of fresh air, it entered into her that she was not really the
naked