As for the old man: "Aye, thou art brave, and wondrous strong, my lad,"
said he, still a bit shaky from his close call. I was pleased with the
acknowledgment, and turned back.

"It was nothing," I told them; and I recounted some of my exploits,
notably one in which I routed a raiding party of men from Klow, six in
all, carrying in two alive on my shoulders. "I am the son of Strok, the
armorer."

"Ye are Strokor!" marveled the girl, staring at me as though I were a
god. Then she threw back her head and stepped close.

"I am Ave. This is Maka; he is my uncle, but best known as a star-gazer.
My father was Durok, the engine-maker." She watched my face.

"Durok?" I knew him well. My father had said that he was quite as brainy
as himself. "He were a fine man, Ave."

"Aye," said she proudly. She stepped closer; I could not but see how
like him she was, though a woman. And next second she laid a hand on my
arm.

"I am yet a free woman, Strokor. Hast thou picked thy mate?" And her
cheeks flamed.

Now, 'twas not my first experience of the kind. Many women had looked
like that at me before. But I had always been a man's man, and had ever
heeded my father's warning to have naught whatever to do with women.
"They are the worst trick of all," he told me; and I had never forgot.
Belike I owe much of my power to just this.