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his head. “Never occurred to me to ask. Like I said, I can’t use one anyway.”
    “You are a Terran,” Lerrys said. “By custom and law here—a knife or any other weapon must never be lent or given, except between sworn friends or kin-folk. To say ‘my knife is yours’ is a pledge. It means that you will defend the other—therefore, a knife or any weapon, must be bought, or captured in battle, or made for you. Yet,” he said, with a sudden laugh, “I will give you this—and I have my reasons.” He stooped down and drew a small sharp knife from the pocket in his boot. “It is yours,” he said, suddenly very serious. “I mean what I say, Barron. Take it from me, and say ‘yours and mine.’
    Barron, feeling embarrassed and strange, fumbled at the hilt of the small blade. “Mine, then, and yours. Thank you, Lerrys.” The intensity of the moment caught him briefly up into it, and he found himself staringinto the younger man’s eyes almost as if words passed between them.
    The other men around the fire were staring at them, Gwynn frowning in surprised disapproval, Colrynlooking puzzled, and vaguely—Barron wondered how he knew—jealous.
    Barron fell to his food, both puzzled and relieved. It was easier to eat with the knife in his hand; later hefound it fitted easily into the little pocket at the top of his boot. Lerrys did not speak to him again, but hegrinned briefly at Barron now and then, and Barron knew that, for some reason, the young man hadadopted him as a friend. It was a strange feeling. He was not a man to make friends easily—he had noclose ones—and now a young man from a strange world, guessing at his confusion, had thrustunexpected friendship on him. He wondered why and what would happen next.
    He shrugged, finished his meal, and followed Colryn’s gestured directions—to rinse his plate and bowland pack them with the others and to help with the spreading of blankets inside the shelter. It was verydark now; cold rain began to spray across the compound; and he was glad to be inside. There was, herealized, a subtle difference in the way they treated him now; he wondered why, and though he toldhimself it made no difference, he was glad of it.
    Once in the night, wrapped in fur blankets, surrounded by sleeping men, he woke to stare at nothingnessand feel his body gripped with weightlessness and cold winds again. Lerrys, sleeping a few feet away,stirred and murmured, and the sound brought Barron back to the moment.
    It was going to be one hell of a trip if this keeps on happening every few hours.
    And there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

    IV

    Page 20

    «^»

    A VOICE called in Melitta’s dreams.
    “Melitta! Melitta, sister,   breda   , wake! Listen to me!”
    She sat up in the dark, desperately grasping at the voice. “Storn,” she gasped, half aloud, “is it you?”
    “I can speak to you only a little while like this,   breda   , so listen. You are the only one who can help me. Allira cannot hear, and in any case she is too frail and timid, she would die in the hills. Edric is wounded and prisoned. It must be you, little one. Dare you help me?”
    “Anything,” she whispered, her heart pounding. Her eyes groped at the dark. “Are you here? Can we
    escape? Shall I make a light?”
    “Hush. I am not here; I speak to your mind only. I have tried to waken hearing in you for these last four days and at last you hear me. Listen, sister—you must go alone. You are only lightly guarded; you can shake them off. But you must go now, before snow closes the passes. I have found someone to help you. I will send him to you at Carthon.”
    “Where…”

    “At Carthon,” the fading voice whispered and was silent. Melitta whispered aloud, “Storn, Storn, don’t go,” but the voice had failed and faded into exhaustion. She was alone in the darkness, her brother’s voice still ringing like an echo in her ears.
    Carthon—but where was Carthon? Melitta had never been