and exhalted, causing the grey to look pale and feeble.
Anest sat up, waking Lily who rubbed sleep out of her eyes, and looked about. It was a crisp, clear, autumn day in the Marshes of Morag, with a foretaste of frost in the air. Green shoots showed on the grasses on which they lay, and on the rushes about the tarn. A huge dragonfly lit on the Summoning Stone and began cleaning itself. Lily laughed gaily. A small bird lit on Anest's staff and began to sing. "Hullo there," said Anest with a smile, and the perky little songbird cocked its
head at him and started singing like all of spring was about to burst from its breast.
With a laugh, Lily lay on the warm, sun-dried grass, drawing Anest with her, and for a time they shared their love as though evil itself had been cleansed from the world.
Being an elf, Palindor had felt the change in the air and knew what it meant. He was about to cover the remains of breakfast with a linen kitchen-towel, when he was joined by the dwarf, Grol.
With a slight bow to the elf's politeness, Grol seated himself, and the two considered one another. For his part, Grol admired the skill that had produced Palindor's elven garments. His leather vest was slightly napped, and had been treated in some manner to cause it to shed water. The material of his black breeches shot with threads of gold was skilfully woven, thick, yet light; it breathed well, and was very tough. His collarless shirt, though of simple homespun muslin, was very