Stark stood a moment or two longer, looking at them. Then he lifted
Freka to his feet and laid him over his shoulder like a sack of meal
and went out, moving neither fast nor slow, but in a straight line, and
way was made for him.
He carried the Shunni down through the silent streets, and into the
twisting, crowded ways of Valkis. There, too, the people stared at him
and drew back, out of his path. He came to Delgaun's palace. The guards
closed in behind him, but they did not ask that he stop.
Delgaun was in the council room, and Berild was still with him. It
seemed that they had been waiting, over their wine and their private
talk. Delgaun rose to his feet as Stark came in, so sharply that his
goblet fell and spilled a red pool of wine at his feet.
Stark let the Shunni drop to the floor.
"I have brought Freka," he said. "Luhar is still at Kala's."
He looked into Delgaun's eyes, golden and cruel, the eyes of his dream.
It was hard not to kill.
Suddenly the woman laughed, very clear and ringing, and her laughter
was all for Delgaun.
"Well done, wild man," she said to Stark. "Kynon is lucky to have such
a captain. One word for the future, though--watch out for Freka. He
won't forgive you this."
Stark said thickly, looking at Delgaun, "This hasn't been a night for
forgiveness." Then he added, "I can handle Freka."
Berild said, "I like you, wild man." Her eyes dwelt on Stark's face,
curious, compelling. "Ride beside me when we go. I would know more
about you."
And she smiled.
A dark flush crept over Delgaun's face. In a voice tight with fury he
said, "Perhaps you've forgotten something, Berild. There is nothing for
you in this barbarian, this creature of an hour!"
He would have said more in his anger, but Berild said sharply,
"We will not speak of time. Go now, Stark. Be ready at midnight."
Stark went. And as he went, his brow was furrowed deep by a strange
doubt.