One of the workers smoothed the robe and glanced up at Garin, a gentle teasing in her voice as she explained:
"This is for the Daughter when she comes to her throne."
The Daughter! What had the Lord of the Folk said? "This youth is fit to mate with the Daughter." But Urg had said that the Ancient Ones had gone from Tav.
"Who is the Daughter?" he demanded.
"Thrala of the Light."
"Where is she?"
The woman shivered and there was fear in her eyes. "Thrala lies in the Caves of Darkness."
"The Caves of Darkness!" Did she mean Thrala was dead? Was he, Garin Featherstone, to be the victim of some rite of sacrifice which was designed to unite him with the dead?
Urg touched his arm. "Not so. Thrala has not yet entered the Place of Ancestors."
"You know my thoughts?"