The dwellers in the hut in the Ice Valley had vanished without leaving a
trace behind them. The herd, untended by a shepherd, was scattered to
the winds by wolves. Nobody could say what had become of Juon Tare and
Mariora. The person who shewed least of all tell that she knew anything
about this midnight adventure was Anicza herself. She had sobbed out the
whole story before Henrietta, but after that she kept her own counsel
and kept a good countenance also when folks looked at her. But there was
venom at the bottom of her heart, and she nourished it there.
In a fortnight's time Fatia Negra visited her again. There was now
nothing the matter with him, all traces of the life and death struggle
had disappeared. Anicza was more affectionate towards him than ever. She
did not even ask him where he had been all this time, nor did she notice
the scar on his neck which had not been there before.
Fatia Negra came to her at night, as he always did. The famous
adventurer was very cautious. Anicza knew for certain that whenever he
came to visit her in a populous place like this, before him and behind
him went faithful henchmen who stood on guard at the corners of the
streets and gave a signal at the approach of any danger. Only amongst
the snowy mountains was he wont to go alone. He was also very wary in
other ways. Thus, he never drank wine: there was really no getting at
him.
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