Only this curse of age drying and withering at the bones.
A long, whining cry came from Cassyrus, who covered his face with his mantle and fled.

The spell being broken, by common consent the great hall was once more in motion--St.George would never forget that tide toward all the great portals and the shuddering backward glances at the white heap upon the beetling throne.

They fled away into the reassuring sunlight, leaving the echoless hall deserted, save for that breathing one upon the throne.
There was one other.

From somewhere beside the dais the woman Elissa crept and knelt, clasping the knees of the man.
[Illustration].