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.
"It goes where it always went," Chane Feldstone said.
"It goes to Thorbardin."
Once more Jilian looked back. "I'd like to see outside
again... sometime. Do you suppose we ever will?"
"We'll see it," Chane replied softly. "Maybe we'll even
see... them... again sometime,"
At his brow, Pathfinder throbbed a clear green pulse
of reassurance. Chane felt as though Grallen's helm had
just given him a promise.
Chapter 33
On a bright spring day a man came down from
the wilderness ranges. He rode a sturdy, battle-wise
horse and had the look of far places about him. In the
main square at the crossroads of Barter he reined in and
dismounted. Not far away, winged pigs circled content-
edly above an inn. Some distance beyond, pavilions
spread their bright expanses, a sign of the spring trading
season. Among them was a large, red-and-gold pavilion
that stood amidst myriad stalls and showing tables.
"Goldbuckle is here," the man noted, talking to himself
and his horse in the way of one who has been afar and
long alone. He smiled a sardonic smile, unlashing a pack
from behind his saddle. Inside was Abanasinian ivory,
an exquisite collection of the finest carvings. "That old
thief is going to drool all over himself when he sees this,"
he told the horse. "But it's going to cost him plenty to get
his hands on it
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