"Do you want to drive it from his mind that he has loved you? Go hide yourself
in Fenrir's mouth!"
But the King did not spring upon his foster-brother. Even as they looked, the
fire went out in his eyes, spark by spark, until they were lustreless as
ashes, and at last he put up his hand and wiped great drops from his forehead.
"Never had you the keenness to father that judgment," he said in a strangely
dull voice. "It must be that a god spoke through your mouth." Leaving them, he
moved forward to the well and stood gazing into it, his fingers mechanically
raking together and crushing the dead leaves that had fluttered down upon the
curbing.
Dearwyn's pretty lips began to quiver with approaching tears. "Randalin, I am
miserably terrified. The air feels as though awful things were about to
happen."
"It seems that the world has begun to fall to pieces everywhere," Randalin
said wearily. The momentary forgetfulness which the happenings around her had
created was beginning to give way before the weight in her breast. She drew
herself up listlessly. "Is it of any use to remain up here, Dearwyn?"
But Dearwyn's grasp had tightened. "See! the King is beginning to speak."
Whom he was addressing was not quite clear even though he had turned back to
the group of nobles, for his eyes still gazed into space, but his words
sounded distinctly: "Heavy is it to lose faith in others, but heavier still to
lose faith in one's self.
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