She shook her head.
"Well, then, let me tell you, young one," he said. "To understand the present-day means understanding one's relationship to one's past. In my case, this means contemplating the existence of the evil Wights."
Rhia blanched. "The Wights! What have the Wights to do with you, or your people?"
"The Wights," he told her, "were once powerful men of Astargoth. Didn't you know that? Many an age ago, our mightiest men-at-arms left of their own free will to serve the evil in the east."
Rhia said nothing. What could she say?
"Excuse me," Amrhost said abruptly, apparently tired of speaking to this girl-child. He moved to stand outside on the balcony, which was unoccupied. Dusk was falling rapidly; the eastern sky looked black and forbidding. For a long time he clutched the railing as though he meant to break it with his bare hands.
"This is an odd spectacle. A man of Astorgoth who appears to possess a conscience." It was the elven harwynglaive, Julina, who had followed him and was leaning against the entrance to the balcony.
"Come to mock me, my young elvish neighbour from Angorain?" he replied. He turned and leaned the small of his back on the rail and stared at the eastern sky, though he chewed the gristle of anger. He was not overly fond of elves, especially this one! Her haughtiness, her self-assuredness, her arrogant, deep black eyes, her too-perfect, uncanny beauty. Then, with an inner laugh, knowing how this would affect her, he turned and gave her a derisive sneer. "Bait me at your peril, young