* * * * *
There was a long, hard silence. No one in the hall moved. Then the men
back of Beudag, big brawny kilted warriors, began to close in on the
dais, talking in low snarling undertones that rose toward a mob howl.
Faolan rose up and faced them, and bellowed them to quiet.
"He's mine to take! Let him alone."
Beudag sprang up onto the dais, one beautiful flowing movement. "It
isn't possible," she said. "His mind broke under torture. He's been
a drooling idiot with barely the sense to feed himself. And now,
suddenly, you say he's normal again?"