Stark shook himself. The dream had been terribly real. He went down to the council room. It was dusk now, and the torches were lighted.
Delgaun was waiting, and Berild sat beside him at the table. They were alone there. Delgaun looked up, with his golden eyes.
"I have a job for you, Stark," he said. "You remember the captain of Kynon's men, in the square today?"
"I do."
"His name is Freka, and he's a good man, but he's addicted to a certain vice. He'll be up to his ears in it by now, and somebody has to get him back by the time Kynon leaves. Will you see to it?"
Stark glanced at Berild. It seemed to him that she was amused, whether at him or at Delgaun he could not tell. He asked,
"Where will I find him?"
"There's only one place where he can get his particular poison—Kala's, out on the edge of Valkis. It's in the old city, beyond the lower quays." Delgaun smiled. "You may have to be ready with your fists, Stark. Freka may not want to come."
Stark hesitated. Then, "I'll do my best," he said, and went out into the dusky streets of Valkis.