(A faint perfume of suspicion—was it to herself or to this Blue Star that he was offering kindness?) Lalette said; “I have it here,” and took the box from under her cloak. The doctor, gravely; “Then you will have the provosts much the hotter on your trail, since the lords temporal and spiritual are not desirous to have these things in hands they are not certain of. I think you must fly from the city as fast as you can, perhaps even beyond the Queen’s writ, up to Kjermanash. Not Mayern, because of the Prince and his prophecies. But before that it would be well to provide this Blue Star with the needed witchery and let Ser Rodvard bear it. When you are not easily found, be sure they will set spies out for you, and with this tool you may be sure of people you meet.” Lalette frowned, but looked at Rodvard. “Is this your word also?” “How could it be other? I think we may need the protection.” “Very well.” She lifted one palm to her forehead. “This witching is, I think, something that leaves one without force or will, and I have performed one tonight. But I will do it. I would be private.” “There is the shop. Do you require materials, demoiselle?” “Only a little water—though wine would be better.” Remigorius produced a bottle half-filled with wine from a tall cabinet against the wall, lighted a candle-stub, and swung the shop-door open with a bow. When it had closed behind her, Rodvard said; “I do not see how, if she is to be taken instantly from the city, I can use this Blue Star for our purpose.” The doctor glanced sidelong and whipped a finger to his lips. “Tish! Matter for the High Center. But who said you would go with her?” They were quiet; a small sound, like the mewing of a kitten, came from the shop, then it stopped, and Lalette came back in. The hood was on her shoulders, and her face was white to the hair-roots; the wooden case stood open in her hand, and in it, lying on a bed of white silk so old it had faded to yellow, the Blue Star, the witch-stone, smaller than might have been imagined, barely a finger-joint across, but seeming to have depth, so that even in the candlelight all the sapphirean fires of ocean and cold hell were in its heart. Rodvard shivered slightly. Lalette said; “Open your jacket,” and when he had done so, hung the jewel round his neck on its thin gold chain. “Now I will tell you as I have been taught,” she said, “that while you wear this jewel, you are of the witch-families, and can read the thoughts of those in whose eyes you look keenly. But only while you are my man and lover, for this power is yours through me. If you are unfaithful to me, it will become for you only a piece of glass; and if you do not give it up at once when I ask it back, there will lie upon you and it a deadly witchery, so that you can never rest again.”