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babes are born with such an abundance of dark hair, it is in no way uncommon for it all to fall out and come in again fair or red."
    "Truly?" Erminie asked, then paused, absorbed in thought. "Yes, my mother's closest friend said that when I was born my hair was dark, but it fell out and grew in bright red."
    "Well, so it may be," Rascard said, and bent to kiss his wife. "My thanks for this great gift, my dearest lady. What shall we name them?"
    "That is for you to say, my husband," said Erminie. "Would you name one of them for your son who perished at Storn hands?"
    "Alaric? No, I like not the omen of giving my son the name of the dead," said Rascard,
    "I will search in the archives of Hammerfell for names of those who were healthy and lived to a ripe old age."
    Accordingly, he came to her room that evening, where she lay with the babies tucked in one to either side of her, with Jewel, now a very large dog indeed, across the foot of her bed.
    "Why have you tied a red ribbon around one son's wrist and not about his brother's?"
    asked Duke Rascard.
    "It was I who did that," said the midwife. "This little man was the elder of his brother by almost twenty minutes; he was born just as the clock was striking midday, while his lazy brother delayed a few more minutes."
    "A good thought," said Rascard, "but a ribbon can fall off or be lost. Call Markos," he added, and when the old paxman entered the room, bowing to the duke and his lady, he said, "take my elder son there― the little duke, my heir―he with the ribbon about his arm―and see that he is marked so that he may never be mistaken for his brother."
    Markos bent and lifted the baby. Erminie qua-
    vered fearfully, "What are you going to do with him?"
    "I'll not hurt him, my lady; not for more than a moment. I'll but tattoo him with the mark of Hammerfell, and bring him back to your breast. It won't take but a minute or so," said the old man, lifting the well-wrapped baby, despite pleas from his -mother, and left the room.
    Soon he brought him back, and, unfolding the blanket, revealed a tattoo in red on the small shoulder, the hammer-mark of the Duchy of Hammerfell.
    "He shall be called Alastair," said Rascard, "after my late father; arid the other shall be Conn, after my great-grandsire, in whose time the feud with Storn was made, if you.
    have no objection, my dear."
    The baby slept fitfully, and woke wailing, his face flushed and angry.
    "You have hurt him," Erminie accused.
    Markos laughed. "Not much, nor for long; and even so it is a small price to pay for the heirship of Hammerfell."
    "Hammerfell and heirship be damned," Erminie said wrathfully, hugging the shrieking Alastair to her breast. "There, there, my little love, Mother has you now, and no one shall touch you again."
    At that moment, Conn, in the cradle across the room, woke and began squalling, an angry echo to his brother's cries. Rascard went to pick up his younger son, who was thrashing fitfully in his blankets. Rascard observed with surprise that Conn was clawing frantically at his unmarked left shoulder; no sooner did Conn begin crying than Alastair dropped off to sleep in Erminie's arms.
    Over the next days, Erminie noticed it more than
    once; that when Alastair cried, Conn woke and whimpered; but even when Conn was
    sorely pricked with a pin in his breechclout, Alastair continued to sleep peacefully. She remembered what had been said in her family, that of twins in laran-gifted households, one always had a little bit more than his share of psychic power, and the other a bit less.
    Obviously, then, Conn was the more telepathic of the twins, and she spent more time holding him and soothing him. If he were sensitive to his own pain and also to his brother's, he must therefore need more love and tenderness. So for the first months of his life, Conn became his mother's favorite, while Alastair was the duke's favorite because he was his heir and because he fussed less and smiled more at his father.
    Both twins