Oar is the city nearest the old battleground and burying place called the Barrowland. The alarm cried by the fetish there touched two residents.
One was an old, old man living incognito because he had contrived to stage his apparent death during the struggle that had devastated the Barrowland. The alarm struck him as he sat guzzling in a workingman’s tavern with new cronies who thought him an astrologer. When it hit him he knew a moment of panic. Then, tears streaming, he rushed into the street.
A questioning babble arose behind him. When his comrades came out to learn what was wrong he had vanished.