No legend—the truth! For let any one of the Dark lay hand so upon a gem which was worn by one of the Lady’s own Chosen and there would follow blighting, and a blasting fire. Whatever Malkin might be she did not give homage to Set or any follower of His. “Not the Dark,” Thora agreed. “Then where is Makil?” Malkin’s shoulders hunched, her indignation was gone. Once more moisture gathered in her eyes. It was plain that the furred one had lost him who had such a close bond with her. “Where did you lose him?” Thora asked carefully. She had never tried to discover before from whence Malkin had come, or why she had been left, a wounded prisoner, in the trading station. “Seeeleeep — darrrk — waakke — Maaakil — gonnne — Hunt—” She caught the cloak to her, hugging its folds tightly. “Sssseett ones coommeee— Taaakke — Hold — Maaakill Coommme — gettt — theyyy catchh — tryyy sooo—” She struggled to form the words, while flecks of foam gathered in the corners of her wide mouth, spun by her effort.
