Zareth saw that look. She kept as close to Stark as possible, asking no favours, but following him around with a sort of quiet devotion, seeming contented only when she was near him. One "night" in the slave barracks she crouched beside his pallet, her hand on his bare knee. She did not speak, and her face was hidden by the floating masses of her hair.
Stark turned her head so that he could see her, pushing the pale cloud gently away.
"What troubles you, little sister?"
Her eyes were wide and shadowed with some vague fear. But she only said, "It's not my place to speak."
"Why not?"
"Because...." Her mouth trembled, and then suddenly she said, "Oh, it's foolish, I know. But the woman of the Lhari...."
"What about her?"
"She watches you. Always she watches you! And the Lord Egil is angry. There is something in her mind, and it will bring you only evil. I know it!"
"It seems to me," said Stark wryly, "that the Lhari have already done as much evil as possible to all of us."
"No," answered Zareth, with an odd wisdom. "Our hearts are still clean."