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even have known the Lady, still it was fitting that she say these things. While Kort, as if he shared that strange feeling of loss, threw up his head. From his throat came a long, echoing howl—the spirit cry of his own people.

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    The hound did not approach the dead. Rather Kort circled about the body to set off down the aisle which that unknown had guarded. Raising up her pack Thora prepared to follow, feeling Malkin's claws scrape her jerkin as the furred one, too, again grasped a belt hold. The girl stepped out more briskly when they had left the defender well behind, though she kept on the lookout for any more signs of old struggle here.
    What had been the purpose of this place, she wondered? Had this been a huge storage depot for traders? What a wealth of materials must be here. And for how long had they lain so?
    Her throat was parched and she was hungry. Malkin, in spite of her brave efforts, wasdragging of pace now. They must rest, eat, drink from Thora's water bottle. Kort perhaps agreed with that thought for he stopped in a wider, open space between two lines of boxes to wait for them.
    Their supply of water was limited and that worried Thora. Certainly no springs nor streams were to be found here—and could they reach the outer world again? She shared carefully a smaller ration of what sloshed in her trail bottle, pouring Kort's portion into a pannikin for him to lap. Malkin drank easily enough. However, it was plain that the furred one found the portion of half-curled meat Thora offered her hard to swallow.
    While Thora was still chewing on her own share, the furred one stood up, shucked off the roll of the cloak she bore, to limp to the wall of boxes beside them. Malkin stooped a little, her head thrust forward, as if she were sniffing, even as Kort might, along the edges of some containers. Kort watched her, his head a little on one side, until she paused, her eyes beginning to glow. Then the hound went to her and pressed his own nose against a visible crack about the edge of a cylinder.
    There were markings on the side of that which meant nothing to Thora—no real pattern. The furred one reached with both hands, leaning against other boxes to spare her foot, wriggling loose the container which appeared to be heavier than its size would suggest. Theurgency of her desire reached the girl and Thora arose to help swing the cylinder to the floor.
    At once Malkin began picking with her claw tips along the thin seam at the top. Thora watched uneasily, having little desire to meddle, until Malkin looked to her appealingly. With a shrug Thora drew her knife and, with care for that old and precious blade, pried at the crack.
    She worked it carefully, then inserted the point of one of the throwing spears to apply stronger leverage. Malkin watched eagerly, her tongue flicking back and forth, giving voice to a low hissing.
    With a whoosh the cap gave way, to spin off and clatter across the floor. Thora saw within a number of stopped tubes of transparent substance, each filled with a red-brown dust.
    Malkin's claws flashed, closed about one of those tubes, to have it out of its cushioned nest almost in a single uninterrupted movement. Holding the tube firmly, the furred one used her teeth to worry off that cap which corked it. Her tongue played out into the tube, caught up the top layer of powder, snapped back into her mouth. She stood for a moment as if she were savoring the taste of something to be greatly relished.
    Then she raised the tube a second time, her tongue scouring the contents, lapping that dust as Kort would lap water. Thora had halfput out a hand to stop her, fearing that this experiment might be harmful. But the speed of Malkin's avid consumption made any such intervention now useless.
    One of the tubes, emptied, was tossed aside. Malkin finished the contents of another before her hunger, or greed, was appeased. She settled down, giving every evidence of one who had consumed something her body had long