"So—art thou, then, that teller of tales, whom men call Nicanor of the silver tongue?"
Nicanor laughed again, but softly, all the hardness gone from his grim face, his eyes shining oddly. Did they indeed call him that?
"I am Nicanor," he said. His quick ears caught a step approaching from the inner rooms. "Some one comes!" he said warningly, and added, "It is heavy; let me take it to the door."
He picked up the brazier and carried it to the door. Eldris followed, her steps lagging.
"I will wait near until thy duty here is ended," he said in a rapid undertone. "None shall touch thee this night, I promise thee. As for to-morrow—well, to-morrow is to-morrow, and there is small use in worrying to-day."
She flashed a glance of gratitude at him and took the brazier. It was too heavy for her, but she staggered bravely with it across the threshold, and the curtains fell behind her. Nicanor heard Nerissa's sharp voice from within.
"Why so long, girl? Bring it quickly—thy lady's feet are chilled."
Nicanor lingered a moment, his eyes on the hidden entrance, and turned and went out with his long and cat-like stride.
In the courtyard one ran against him in the darkness and cursed him soundly. Nicanor, recognizing the ring of Hito's eloquence, halted and waited for what might come. Hito, in his turn, recognized him, and changed his tone.
"So, thou? In the dark I did not know thee. Didst find the girl?"