Towering, motionless as we, it stood, guarding the further gates.
There was a stir upon the wall, a flashing of spears, of drawn blades.
Two litters closed with curtainings, surrounded by triple rows of swordsmen fully armored, carrying small shields and led by Kulun were being borne to the torn battlement.
Their bearers stopped well within the platform and gently lowered their burdens.

The leader of those around the second litter drew aside its covering, spoke.
Out stepped Ruth and after her--Ventnor! "Martin!" I could not keep back the cry; heard mingled with it Drake's own cry to Ruth.

Ventnor raised his hand in greeting; I thought he smiled.
The cubes on which we stood shot forward; stopped within fifty feet of them.

Instantly the guard of swordsmen raised their blades, held them over the pair as though waiting the signal to strike.
And now I saw that Ruth was not clad as she had been when we had left her.

She stood in scanty kirtle that came scarcely to her knees, her shoulders were bare, her curly brown hair unbound and tangled.