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flick of claws she jerked up and back the nearest edge of that covering to display its lining, though not the body.
    Here were embroidered patterns such as lined the cloak she herself carried. But these symbols were strange. To gaze at them made Thora uneasy, so that she was glad when Malkin dropped the cloth and they were again hidden from view. If one could sense such, and Thora knew that the initiated could do so, evil hung here now like a noxious vapor which even time had not been able to dissipate.
    Deliberately the furred one worked her mouth, her purple lips tight together. Then she spat—straight at the hooded head of the dead. She hissed, striving very hard to twist her tongue about a word, bring that forth so Thora could understand.
    “Ssssettt—” Her mouth worked as she tried again. “Sssettt—”
    Thora flinched. If she had interpreted that aright—!

    He-Who-Abode-in-the-Dark, ruled the Left Hand Path—who gave birth to evil, beguiled men to foul ways—
    “Set!” the girl repeated in a low whisper. Her hand moved in the ancient sign of warding. In truth she had found Old Evil here if one who had spoken for that power lay before her, dead or not.
    Thora wanted to flee that place of battle. Could fear and evil lash out at the living from such a place? There was a belief among all who were followers of HER that an object might gain stronger reality, greater power, if it was to confront any such force, good or evil. Now she shrank back from that cloak, afraid that the gem she wore in concealment, her own small power, might bring into half-life some of this malignity.
    She gestured to Kort fiercely to go. Malkin watched with fire pit eyes in which Thora could read no human emotion. Now as the furred one came away from the Dark Dead, her tongue moved. Thora waited for a struggling word but none came.
    Kort trotted on, Thora followed, not waiting for Malkin to catch up. Luckily there was escape from this underground prison in sight now—Kort sniffed at a break in the wall. That itself was rent apart, earth and stones had cascaded out into the storage place, leaving a dark hole.
    There was a scent here, too, a dank mustinessThora did not like. Kort growled as Malkin pushed up beside him. She still carried the throwing spear she had used as a staff and this she swung point forward.
    “Out!” The fear which had been seeded at Malkin’s recognition of the scarlet cloaked dead grew fast in Thora. She had no doubt that both of her companions were wary of something ahead, only it was better to face the unknown that any remnant of the DARK. The girl wanted passionately to be above ground where the Sign of the Lady rode the night sky and there was nothing of ancient evil.
    Kort growled again, but he did not refuse to enter the hole, rather he crawled up the fall of earth and stone and shouldered on into the shadowed space. While Malkin appeared as willing to face what might lie there. Thora loosed the pack from her back so that she might go more easily through the break.
    Here were no lighted walls. Again the faint radiance of Malkin’s rolled cloak was her only guide. She swept the path before her with her own spear, fearing a misstep. The footing was rough so she went carefully, hearing the scrambling and scuffling of her companions. Then there was a wan light—far ahead. They might be making their way not along a passage, but in a narrow cleft with the night sky above.
    Kort gave a great rasping howl. Warning enough for Thora to set back to the wall, packthrown aside, spear and knife ready. There came a scrabbling, growls from Kort, a flurry of what must be a fight. A musky stench enveloped the girl as she caught sight of small points of light near the ground—eyes?
    To Kort’s growls was added a hissing she was sure came from Malkin. Then followed a shrill squealing. Thora braced herself, struck down at the pair of eyes within reach. Her spear entered flesh; there was another squeal of pain. Thora jerked