"You do not know," she said, in a low and bitter voice. "I was a girl-child, without a name. By the time I could walk, I was a servant in the house of my grandfather. The two things that kept me living were pride and hate. I left my scrubbing of floors to practice arms with the young boys. I was beaten for it every day, but every day I went. I knew even then that only force would free me. And my father was a king's son, a good man of his hands. His blood was strong in me. I learned." She held her head very high. She had earned the right to hold it so. She finished quietly, "I have come a long way. I will not turn back now." "Ciara." Stark came and stood before her. "I am talking to you as a fighting man, an equal. There may be power behind the Gates of Death, I do not know. But this I have seen--madness, horror, an evil that is beyond our understanding. "I think you will not accuse me of cowardice. And yet I would not go into that pass for all the power of all the kings of Mars!" Once started, he could not stop. The full force of that dark vision of the talisman swept over him again in memory. He came closer to her, driven by the need to make her understand. "Yes, I have the talisman! And I have had a taste of its purpose. I think Ban Cruach left it as a warning, so that none would follow him. I have seen the temples and the palaces glitter in the ice. I have seen the Gates of Death--_not with my own eyes, Ciara, but with his. With the eyes and the memories of Ban Cruach!_" He had caught her again, his hands strong on her strong arms. "Will you believe me, or must you see for yourself--the dreadful things that walk those buried streets, the shapes that rise from nowhere in the mists of the pass?" Her gaze burned into his. Her breath was hot and sweet upon his lips, and she was like a sword between his hands, shining and unafraid. "Give me the talisman. Let me see!" He answered furiously, "You are mad. As mad as Otar." And he kissed her, in a rage, in a panic lest all that beauty be destroyed--a kiss as brutal as a blow, that left him shaken. * * * * * She backed away slowly, one step, and he thought she would have killed him. He said heavily: "If you will see, you will. The thing is here." He opened the boss and laid the crystal in her outstretched hand. He did not meet her eyes. "Sit down. Hold the flat side against your brow." She sat, in a great chair of carven wood. Stark noticed that her hand was unsteady, her face the colour of white ash. He was glad she did not have the axe where she could reach it. She did not play at anger. For a long moment she studied the intricate lens, the incredible depository of a man's mind. Then she raised it slowly to her forehead.