comfortable, and half-unlaced at the moment. Palindor noted that the dwarf, in his turn, wore heavy garments of cloth and leather, curiously fashioned to stretch and accomodate thick arms, torso and legs that bulged with muscle and sinew. The garments were of thick weave, consisting of strips of leather braided with cords of spool-woven wool. Across his chest he wore a neckless sweater woven of some brown animal-wool. Both wore hose upon their feet; their footwear, in civilized
fashion, stood on a mat beside the back door.
"Well?" the dwarf prompted, as he helped himself to cheese, meat, bread, and a flagon of water.
"It is the right key," Palindor acknowledged, a slight furrow between his brows the only outward sign of his frustration, "yet the door to Belloc's study remains locked. My friend, he evidently does not wish anyone to go there, unless, perhaps, it be Anest, who may recognise the spell used to keep it sealed off."
"Yet it is there," Grol persisted. "It can be seen through the keyhole."
"It is there," Palindor allowed. "And it is beyond our reach."
Grol made an angry sound. "What I wouldn't do for a peep! Belloc should have given the thing into Baldric's care-"
"Might I remind you that Baldric is no longer in Lund?" Palindor said with some asperity. "Where would he keep it? Upon the field of battle? How would he transport it? Or keep it out of the hands of the Enemy, who would then destroy us? Besides, Baldric is no Wizard! He would be overmastered in a heartbeat!"