Konara Inggres lit the prayer candle and the familiar scents of orange-sweet and mugwort wafted up toher. lemett trees, bare and pale now, and delicately fringed evergreens that clattered softly in the knife-edged gusts of autumnal wind. Light flared below her, andshe saw Rada and Sornnn standing on a floor of gleaming polished porphyry. He gave her a quick glance.
How would you know? Marethyn asked. ''I was only a child of eight or nine when itbegan, Sir Walter. With his long hair as ragged as rainand as black as thunder, he would have looked quite at home upon awindswept moor, or lurking in some pitch-black alleyway, or perhaps in anovel by Mrs Radcliffe. As she ran this way and that she could hear the Gyrgon laughing.
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