s afraid； and the bats flew in and out on noiseless leather wings。 Sometimes he heard their thin voices at the very limit of his hearing。
The morning came bright； and they were early up。 Sparrowhawk inquired earnestly for emmelstone。 Though none of the townsfolk knew what emmelstone was； they all had theories about it and quarreled over them； and he listened； though he listened for news of something other than emmelstone。 At last he and Arren took a way that the mayor suggested to them； toward the quarries where the blue dye…earth was dug。 But on the way Sparrowhawk turned aside。
〃This will be the house；〃 he said。 〃They said that that family of dyers and discredited magicians lives on this road。〃
〃Is it any use to talk to them？〃 said Arren； remembering Hare all too well。
〃There is a center to this bad luck；〃 said the mage； harshly。 〃There is a place where the luck runs out。 I need a guide to that place！〃 And he went on； and Arren must follow。
The house stood apart among its own orchards； a fine building of stone； but it and all its acreage had gone long uncared for。 Cocoons of ungathered silkworms hung discolored among the ragged branches； and the ground beneath was thick with a papery litter of dead grubs and moths。 All about the house under the close…set trees there hung an odor of decay； and as they came to it Arren suddenly remembered the horror that had been on him in the night。
Before they reached the door it was flung open。 Out charged a grey…haired woman； glaring with reddened eyes and shouting； 〃Out； curse you； thieves； slanderers； lackwits； liars； and misbegotten fools！ Get out； out； go！ The ill chance be on you forever！〃
Sparrowhawk stopped； looking somewhat amazed； and quickly raised his hand in a curious gesture。 He said one word； 〃Avert！〃
At that the woman stopped yelling。 She stared at him。
〃Why did you do that？〃
〃To turn your curse aside。〃
She stared a while longer and said at last； hoarsely； 〃Foreigners？〃
〃From the North。〃
She came forward。 At first Arren had been inclined to laugh at her； an old woman screeching on her doorstep； but close to her he felt only shame。 She was foul and ill…clothed； and her breath stank； and her eyes had a terrible stare of pain。
〃I have no power to curse；〃 she said。 〃No power。〃 She imitated Sparrowhawk's gesture。 〃They still do that； where you e from？〃
He nodded。 He watched her steadily； and she returned his gaze。 Presently her face began to work and change； and she said； 〃Where's the stick？〃
〃I do not show it here； sister。〃
〃No； you should not。 It will keep you from life。 Like my power： it kept me from life。 So I lost it。 I lost all the things I knew； all the words and names。 They came by little strings like spiderwebs out of my eyes and mouth。 There is a hole in the world； and the light is running out of it。 And the words go with the light。 Did you know that？ My son sits staring all day at the dark； looking for the hole in the world。 He says he would see better if he were blind。 He has lost his hand as a dyer。 We were the Dyers of Lorbanery。 Look！〃 She shook before them her muscular； thin arms； stained to the shoulder with a faint； streaky mixture of ineradicable dyes。 〃It never es off the skin；〃 she said； 〃but the mind washes clean。 It won't hold the colors。 Who are you？〃
Sparrowhawk said nothing。 Again his eyes held the woman's； and Arren； standing aside； watched uneasily。
All at once she trembled and said in a whisper； 〃I know thee…〃
〃Aye。 Like knows like； sister。〃
It was strange to see how she pulled away from the mage in terror； wanting to flee him； and yearned toward him as if to kneel at his feet。
He took her hand and held her。 〃Would you have your power back； the skills； the names？ I can give you that。〃
〃You are the Great Man；〃 she whispered。 〃You are the King of the Shadows； the Lord of the Dark Place…〃
〃I am not。 I am no king。 I am a man； a mortal； your brother and your like。〃
〃But you will not die？〃
〃I will。〃
〃But you will e back and live forever。〃
〃Not I。 Nor any man。〃
〃Then you are not … not the Great One in the darkness；〃 she said； frowning； and looking at him a little askance； with less fear。 〃But you are a Great One。 Are there two？ What is your name？〃
Sparrowhawk's stern face softened a moment。 〃I cannot tell you that；〃 he said gently。
〃I'll tell you a secret；〃 she said。 She stood straighter now； facing him； and there was the echo of an old dignity in her voice and bearing。 〃I do not want to live and live and live forever。 I would rather have back the names of things。 But they are all gone。 Names don't matter now。 There are no more secrets。 Do you want to know my name？〃 Her eyes filled with light； her fists clenched； she leaned forward and whispered： 〃My name is Akaren。〃 Then she screamed aloud； 〃Akaren！ Akaren！ My name is Akaren！ Now they all know my secret name； my true name； and there are no secrets； and there is no truth； and there is no death… death… death！〃 She screamed the word sobbing； and spittle flew from her lips。
〃Be still； Akaren！〃
She was still。 Tears ran down her face； which was dirty； and streaked with locks of her unbed； grey hair。
Sparrowhawk took that wrinkled； tear…blubbered face between his hands and very lightly； very tenderly； kissed her on the eyes。 She stood motionless； her eyes closed。 Then with his lips close to her ear he spoke a little in the Old Speech； once more kissed her； and let her go。
She opened clear eyes and looked at him a while with a brooding； wondering gaze。 So a newborn child looks at its mother； so a mother looks at her child。 She turned slowly and went to her door； entered it； and closed it behind her： all in silence； with the still look of wonder on her face。
In silence the mage turned and started back toward the road。 Arren followed him。 He dared ask no question。 Presently the mage stopped； there in the ruined orchard； and said； 〃I took her name from her and gave her a new one。 And thus in some sense a rebirth。 There was no other help or hope for her。〃
His voice was strained and stifled。
〃She was a woman of power；〃 he went on。 〃No mere witch or potion…maker； but a woman of art and skill； using her craft for the making of the beautiful； a proud woman and honorable。 That was her life。 And it is all wasted。〃 He turned abruptly away； walked off into the orchard aisles； and there stood beside a tree…trunk； his back turned。
Arren waited for him in the hot； leaf…speckled sunlight。 He knew that Sparrowhawk was ashamed to burden Arren with his emotion； and indeed there was nothing the boy could do or say。 But his heart went out utterly to his panion； not now with that first romantic ardor and adoration； but painfully； as if a link were drawn forth from the very inmost of it and forged into an unbreaking bond。 For in this love he now felt there was passion： without which love is untempered； and is not whole； and does not last。
Presently Sparrowhawk returned to him through the green shade of the orchard。 Neither said anything； and they went on side by side。 It was hot already； last night's rain had dried； and dust rose under their feet on the road。 Earlier the day had seemed dreary and insipid to Arren； as if infected by his dreams； now he took pleasure in the bite of the sunlight and the relief of shade； and enjoyed walking without brooding about their destination。
This was just as well； for they acplished nothing。 The afternoon was spent in talking with the men who mined the dye…ores； and bargaining for some bits of what was said to be emmelstone。 As they trudged back to Sosara with the late sun pounding on their heads and necks； Sparrowhawk remarked； 〃It's blue malachite； but I doubt they'll know the difference in Sosara either。〃
〃They're strange here；〃 Arren said。 〃It's that way with everything； they don't know the difference。 Like what one of them said to the headman last night； 'You wouldn't know the true azure from blue mud。。。' They plain about bad times； but they don't know when the bad times began； they say the work's shoddy； but they don't improve it； they don't even know the difference between an artisan and a spell…worker； between handicraft and the art magi