Maudlin smiled a little and raised herself, till she stood, fair and slender, as high as his shoulder.
"What thing draws you, Red Smith?"
"Steel." And he showed her a fine sword-blade, lacking its hilt. "I was sent for to mend this against the morrow."
"I know that blade," said Maudlin, "it was snapped in my cause. Have you the hilt too?"
"In my pouch," said Harding, his hand upon it.
Hers touched his fingers delicately. "I will see it."
He brushed her hand aside and unbuttoned his pouch; but as he drew out the hilt of the broken sword, she caught a glimpse of that within which held her startled gaze.
"What jewels are those?" she asked quickly.
"Old relics," Harding said with sudden gruffness.
"Show them to me!"