"Marna stirs," Glendyn whispered. "Tomorrow she will awaken. Let it be for the last time. As long as she lives we are in danger."
"She can do nothing alone."
"But she is never alone. How many times has her beauty brought men to her aid?"
"Their bones would make a tall pile," Cyngled agreed. His eyes were bright beneath hooded lids. "What about those who landed today?"
"They are somewhere in the forest. Once we thought we had them, but they broke away."
Footsteps sounded in the corridor and a hooded priest came hurrying over the worn stones of the floor. His fingers traced the sacred symbols in the damp air of the crypt.
"Well?" Cyngled demanded.
"We are having trouble following them. Their thoughts are shrouded. Something comes between us and them."
Cyngled's eyes darted back to Marna. He knew what it was that protected these strangers. Even in her sleep the girl had power. Glendyn was right.
"Tomorrow, then," Cyngled murmured. "In the meantime, watch her. You here, Glendyn, and you above, Twyn."