Her face was set with wrath hardly less than that which beat from Norhala.

On Ventnor's forehead was a blood red scar, a line that ran from temple to temple like a brand.
The curtains of the first litter quivered; behind them someone spoke.
That in which Ruth and Ventnor had ridden was drawn swiftly away.

The knot of swordsmen drew back.
Into their places sprang and knelt a dozen archers.

They ringed in the two, bows drawn taut, arrows in place and pointing straight to their hearts.
Out of the litter rolled a giant of a man.

Seven feet he must have been in height; over the huge shoulders, the barreled chest and the bloated abdomen hung a purple cloak glittering with gems; through the thick and grizzled hair passed a flashing circlet of jewels.
The scarlet armored Kulun beside him, swordsmen guarding them, he walked to the verge of the torn gap in the wall.