His weary beast plodded on, and now Stark saw as in a dream that a great walled city stood guard before that awful Gate. He watched the city glide toward him through a crimson haze, and fancied he could see the ages clustered like birds around the towers. He had reached Kushat, with the talisman of Ban Cruach still strapped in the blood-stained belt around his waist. IV He stood in a large square, lined about with huckster's stalls and the booths of wine-sellers. Beyond were buildings, streets, a city. Stark got a blurred impression of a grand and brooding darkness, bulking huge against the mountains, as bleak and proud as they, and quite as ancient, with many ruins and deserted quarters. He was not sure how he had come there, but he was standing on his own feet, and someone was pouring sour wine into his mouth. He drank it greedily. There were people around him, jostling, chattering, demanding answers to their questions. A girl's voice said sharply, "Let him be! Can't you see he's hurt?" Stark looked down. She was slim and ragged, with black hair and large eyes yellow as a cat's. She held a leather bottle in her hands. She smiled at him and said, "I'm Thanis. Will you drink more wine?" "I will," said Stark, and did, and then said, "Thank you, Thanis." He put his hand on her shoulder, to steady himself. It was a supple shoulder, surprisingly strong. He liked the feel of it. The crowd was still churning around him, growing larger, and now he heard the tramp of military feet. A small detachment of men in light armor pushed their way through. A very young officer whose breastplate hurt the eye with brightness demanded to be told at once who Stark was and why he had come there. "No one crosses the moors in winter," he said, as though that in itself were a sign of evil intent. "The clans of Mekh are crossing them," Stark answered. "An army, to take Kushat--one, two days behind me." The crowd picked that up. Excited voices tossed it back and forth, and clamored for more news. Stark spoke to the officer. "I will see your captain, and at once." "You'll see the inside of a prison, more likely!" snapped the young man. "What's this nonsense about the clans of Mekh?" Stark regarded him. He looked so long and so curiously that the crowd began to snicker and the officer's beardless face flushed pink to the ears. "I have fought in many wars," said Stark gently. "And long ago I learned to listen, when someone came to warn me of attack." "Better take him to the captain, Lugh," cried Thanis. "It's our skins too, you know, if there is war." The crowd began to shout. They were all poor folk, wrapped in threadbare cloaks or tattered leather. They had no love for the guards. And whether there was war or not, their winter had been long and dull, and they were going to make the most of this excitement. "Take him, Lugh! Let him warn the nobles. Let them think how they'll defend Kushat and the Gates of Death, now that the talisman is gone!"