“Fetch me his helmet.” The master of the horse which had dragged the corpse unbuckled the great war-helm from Kynortas’s head and passed it up to Bellamus. He ran his fingers over it, turning it over in his hands. As he had thought, it was not steel. It was some kind of alloy, duller than steel but also more beautiful. It was almost marbled, with shades of cloud, gloom, iron and moonlight merging and overlapping. “The famous Unthank-silver.
