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Kristin that she marry him。 Mark made； not for the first time on this journey； a silent vow to see that she never regretted that decision。
He was cheered to see that happiness increasingly dominated her mood as they went on。 She was ing home； she was going to see a family and friends who must at the very least be badly worried about her now； who might very possibly have given her up for dead。
The road； now well paved； rounded a shoulder of the same small mountain upon whose peak they had seen the heliograph。 Then it promptly turned into a cobblestone street； as the travelers found themselves entering the first village of Tasavalta。 It was； Mark decided； really a small town。 He wondered what it was called。 Not far ahead on the right was a small； clean…looking inn； and he suggested that they stop。 He had a little money with him still； carried in an inner pocket。 〃If they will let us in； we do look somewhat ragged。〃 Their scavenging through deserted houses had added to their wardrobe； but only doubtfully improved its quality。
〃All right。 We can stop anywhere。 It makes little difference now。〃 Kristin looked him squarely in the eye； and added warmly： 〃I love you。〃
It was something they said to each other； in endless variations； a hundred times a day。 Why should the effect； this time； be almost chilling； as if she were telling him goodbye
〃And I love you；〃 he answered softly。
She turned her head away from him； to look toward the inn； and something in her aspect froze。 Mark followed her gaze。 Now they were close enough to the inn for him to see the white ribbon of mourning that was stretched above the door。 And there was another white ribbon； now that he looked for it； wrapped round the arch of the gate leading into the inn's courtyard from the street。
He said to Kristin： 〃Someone in the innkeeper's family。。。〃
She had turned in her saddle again； and was looking wordlessly up and down the street。 Now that they were closer to the other doors and gateways they could see the white bands plainly； everywhere。 In this town the badge of mourning appeared to be universal。
〃What is it； then？〃 The words burst from Kristin in a scream； a sound that Mark had never heard from her before。 He stared at her。 They had stopped； just outside the open gateway of the courtyard of the inn。
In response to the outcry an old woman in an apron； the innkeeper's wife by the look of her； appeared just inside the yard。 In a cracked voice she admonished； 〃Where've you been； young woman； that you don't know。。。〃
At that point the old woman halted suddenly。 Her face paled as she stared at Kristin； and she seemed to stumble； almost going down on one knee。 But Kristin； who had already dismounted； caught her by the arms and held her up。
And shook her； fiercely。 〃Tell me； old one； tell me； who is the mourning for？〃
The eyes of the innkeeper's wife were pale and hopeless。 〃My lady； it's for the Princess。。。 Princess Rimac。。。 has been killed。〃
Again Kristin let out a scream； this one short and wordless。 Mark had heard another woman scream just that way as she fell in battle。 Kristin swayed but she did not fall。
He jumped off his own mount and went to her and held her。 〃What is it？〃
She clung to him as if an ocean wave were tugging at her； sweeping her away： For just a moment her eyes； flashing with mystery and fright； looked directly into his。 〃My sister。。。〃
She tried to add more words to those two。 But Mark heard hardly any of them。 He retreated； one backward step after another in the direction of the inn； until directly behind him there was an old bench； that stood close by the white…ribboned doorway。 He sat down on the bench； in the partial shade of an old tree； leaning his back against the inn's whitewashed wall。 Already half a dozen more townspeople had appeared from somewhere； to make a little knot around Kristin and the old woman in the courtyard； and even as Mark watched another half dozen came running。 They were kneeling to Kristin； seizing her hands and kissing them； calling her Princess。 Someone leaped on the back of a fresh riding beast in the courtyard and went pounding away down the street； hooves echoing for what seemed like a long time on distant cobblestones。
Mark remained sitting where he was； on the shaded bench near the worn doorway； while people rushed in and out ignoring him。 Now and again through the press of bodies his eyes met Kristin's for a moment。 The Sword of Love in its sheath weighed heavily at his side。
Among the other things that people were shouting at her were explanations： how Princess Rimac had ridden out carelessly as was her habit； how there had been a sudden； unexpected attack by one of the Dark King's raiding parties； how now there was going to be war 。。。
The crowd grew rapidly； and Mark's glimpses of Kristin became less frequent。 At one point dozens of eyes suddenly turned his way； and there was a sudden； paratively minor fuss that centered about him … she must have said something that identified him as her rescuer。 People thronged about him。 Men with an attitude between timidity and bravado beat him on the back in congratulation； and tried to press filled beer mugs into his hand。 Women asked him if he were hungry； and would not hear anything he answered them； and brought him cake。 Girls threw their tender arms about his neck and kissed him； more girls and young women kissing him now in a few moments than had even looked at him for a long time。 One girl； pressed against him by the crowd； took his hand and crushed it against her breast。 By now he had lost sight of Kristin entirely； and if it were not for the continuing crowd he would have thought that she had left the courtyard。
There was the sound of many riding beasts out in the street。 Now the crowd； filling the gateway； blocking Mark's view of the street； had a growing new ponent。 Soldiers； uniformed in green and blue。 Mark supposed that the heliograph had been busy。
Someone near him said： 〃General。〃 Mark recognized Rostov at once； having heard him described so often； though he had never seen the man before。
Round one thick arm in its blue…green sleeve； Rostov like the other soldiers was wearing a band of mourning white。 There was one decoration on his barrel chest … Mark had no idea of what it represented。 The General was as tall as Mark； and gave Mark the impression of being stronger； though he was twice Mark's age。 Rostov's curly black hair was heavily seasoned with gray； and his black face marked on the right cheek by an old sword…slash。 A gray beard that looked like steel fiber raggedly trimmed sprouted from cheeks and chin。 His facial expression； thought Mark； would have been quite hard enough even without a steel beard。
Kristin was now ing through the crowd； and Mark from only two yards away saw how the General greeted her。 He did not kneel … that appeared to be quite optional for anyone … but his eyes lit up with relief and joy； and he bowed and kissed her hand fervently。
She clung to his hand with both of hers。 〃Rostov； they tell me that Parliament has been divided over the succession？ That they have nearly e to blows？〃
〃They have e very nearly to civil war； Highness。〃 The General's voice was suitably gravelly and deep。 〃But； thank the gods； all that is over now。 All factions can agree on you。 It was only the thought that you were missing； too。。。 thank all the gods you're here。〃
〃I am here。 And well。〃 And at last her eyes turned in Mark's direction。
Now Mark and Rostov were being introduced。 The General glowered at him； Mark thought； that was the way of generals everywhere； he had observed； when looking at someone of insignificance who had got in the way。 Still Rostov was quick to express his own and his army's formal thanks。
A hundred people were speaking now； but one soft voice at Mark's elbow caught his full attention。 It was a woman's； and it said： 〃They told me that your name was Mark。 And so I hurried here to see。〃
Mark recognized his mother's voice； before he turned to see her face。
Chapter 8
The scar on Denis's arm； the last trace of the wound that had been healed by the Sword of Mercy； looked faint and old already。 He thought that the second touch of Woundhealer in the hand of Aphrodite had reached his heart； for there were times when he had the feeling of scar tissue forming there as well。 The vision of the goddess as she had appeared to him at night on the river…island was with him still。 He still felt pity for her whenever he thought of what had happened； and then； each time； fear at what might happen to a man who dared feel pity for divinity。
His emotions whipsawn by his encounter with Aphrodite； Denis sometimes felt as if years had passed in the few days since his departure from Tashigang。 In the days that followed； he went on paddling his canoe into the north and east。 He toyed no more with the idea of absconding with the remaining Sword； he was still in awe and shock from that demonstration of its powers； and he wanted nothing but to be honorably and safely rid of it。
With that objective in mind； he tried his best to keep his attention concentrated upon practical affairs。 It was necessary now to watch for a second set of landmarks； these to tell him where to leave thi