She put out a hand to guide him, but Stark's eyes were like a cat's in
the dark. He made out a space where the rock with which the ancient
builders had faced these subterranean ways gave place to the original
coral.
Ragged black mouths opened in the coral, entrances to some unguessed
catacombs beneath. Stark consigned Freka to the nearest pit, and then
reluctantly threw his sword in after him.
"You won't need it," Fianna told him, "and besides, it would be
recognized. This will be a bitter night enough, without rousing the men
of Shun over Freka's death."
Stark listened to the distant sliding echoes from the pit, and
shivered. He had so nearly finished there himself. He was glad to
follow Fianna away from that place of darkness and silent death.
He stopped her in a place where a bar of moonlight came splashing
through a great crack in the tunnel roof.
"Now," he said, "we will talk."