“how did you get those horses back?!”
Nyctasia grinned. “I destroyed the entire band of thieves with my murderous magic arts, of course. Have you forgotten that I’m an all-powerful enchantress?”
Corson sheathed her sword, not trusting to her own temper. “Answer me!”
“Take care you don’t arouse my wrath, woman. You know I might change you into a mushroom and eat you.”
Corson started towards her. If she had to beat an answer out of this lying witch, she was quite prepared to do it. “You cursed, japing-”
Nyctasia backed her horse away a few paces into the brush. “Very well, I’ll explain about the horses,” she laughed, “but you won’t like it.”
“I know,” said Corson, grabbing for Nyctasia’s bridle. The horse shied back suddenly, kicking out, and Corson pitched forward into the brambles. They tore at her neck as she tried to rise, and thorns caught fast in her hair.
“Corson? Are you hurt?” Nyctasia dismounted and pushed her way through the thicket.
Corson glared at her and tried to pull free from the entangling branches, cursing as the briars raked her fingers, Nyctasia could see that she would have to be handled carefully. She was in no temper to be reasoned with-but reason was not the only form of persuasion.
She smiled to herself. “You’re making it worse. Here, let me help.” She knelt beside Corson and began to unsnarl her hair. There was a great deal more of it than she’d expected. “The braid’s come down. I think I’ll have to cut it off,” she teased.
Corson struck at her halfheartedly. “If you dare…!”
“Hold still.” Nyctasia carefully undid the thick braid, freeing loose strands of hair from around the thorns. “There, now.”
“Are you finished?”
“Not quite.” She combed her fingers through the heavy waves of waist-length hair. “I wish I had a brush.”
“I’ll do it,” said Corson. She pulled her hair over one shoulder to braid it.
Nyctasia touched a finger lightly to the back of her neck. “You’re bleeding.”
“I suppose you’re a vampire as well as a witch.”
Nyctasia leaned over and nibbled at Corson’s throat. “Mmm-hmm.”
“What are you doing?!”
“I’m casting a spell on you. Don’t be afraid.” She laughed softly and brushed her lips along Corson’s jaw.
Corson was stunned. Lady Nyctasia was a client, an aristocrat, an arrogant, lying, sorcerous-
Nyctasia kissed her again, on the mouth, and started unlacing her tunic.
“But you… you…” stammered Corson, “I…”
“What’s wrong?” Nyctasia breathed, close to her ear.
Corson couldn’t remember. She would worry about it later, she decided.
Abandoning her misgivings, she let Nyctasia push her to the ground.
Nyctasia straddled her, laughing. She spread open the tunic and slowly slid it down over Corson’s shoulders, then stretched her body over Corson’s and gently kissed her eyelids and the corners of her mouth.
Corson raised her shoulders and tried to shrug out of the sleeves. “I can’t move.”
“Good,” said Nyctasia, sliding her small scholar’s hands up beneath the loose chain-mail.
“Oh,” Corson said faintly, and fell back onto the grass. Nyctasia lay over her and buried her face in the deep mass of hair at the base of Corson’s neck. She nuzzled her car. “Now aren’t you glad you didn’t kill me?” she whispered.
Corson was ordinarily a light sleeper, but it was well into the next morning before she woke, and then she lay for some time with one arm flung over her eyes, trying to think of something to say to Lady Nyctasia. She could hear her moving about the clearing, building up the fire.
Then Nyctasia stood over her. “Ho, bodyguard, wake up! You’re supposed to be protecting me from the dangers of the forest, aren’t you? Wild beasts. Enemies.
And robbers,” she added maliciously.
Corson sat up quickly and glowered at her. “What chance did I have against twenty people?”
“None at all, but you’re almost foolhardy enough to try it. You certainly had me worried.” She shook her head and wandered back to the fire to check on the spitted bird she’d shot that morning.
Corson shook the twigs and leaves from her hair then hastily braided it and bound it up before joining her companion. She was ravenous. “All right,” she said, “how did you get the horses back?”
Nyctasia looked up from turning the makeshift spit, “I once told you that I bred those horses myself. Well, I didn’t breed them just for swiftness. If they’re taken they’ll return to me-you can see how they’ve chewed through their ropes.
If any of those thieves tried to stop them they were probably trampled to death.
Thoroughbreds can be quite vicious.”
Corson smiled, cheered at the thought of the bandits’ undoing. “That bird smells good.”
Nyctasia had slit the skin and stuck in pieces of wild garlic, then stuffed the cavity around the spit with aromatic grasses. “When I took up the study of herb lore, I little thought of such homely arts as this,” she said, “but I’ve found it most useful for seasoning game.”
“I can guess why you studied such things, Lady,” Corson muttered. “You breed horses no one can steal, you heal wounds overnight, why can’t you use your powers to defend yourself?”
“Corson, it took me years to breed those horses. I had to lay spells on four generations of the bloodline before it produced the traits I wanted. Most magic requires long, painstaking preparation, like anything else-it’s of no use for felling one’s enemies at a moment’s notice. There isn’t time!”
“But you had time enough to lay spells on the Teiryn family.”
Nyctasia laughed. “I suppose I could breed a fatal disease into the Teiryn line, but, don’t you see, I’d need their complete cooperation to do it. The Teiryn may be stupid, but they’re not horses. Besides, I tried to tell you before-it’s far more difficult to kill with magic than to heal. The reason is perfectly plain if you consider the matter…” Nyctasia’s voice had taken on an ardent, lecturing tone which Corson was beginning to recognize.
“I knew I’d be sorry I asked for this explanation,” she said, yawning.
Nyctasia ignored her. “The body naturally desires to mend itself. A healing spell only has to enhance inclinations that are already present-there’s no resistance. Whereas, in order to afflict-”
“Enough! I see!” Corson interrupted. “And I’ll wager you could tell me the contrary and make it seem just as convincing.” Her opinion was more or less that if Lady Nyctasia were telling the whole truth, then she, Corson, was Empress of Liruvath. “What I want to know,” she continued, “is, were you lying about that money of yours in Chiastelm?”
For a moment. Nyctasia was profoundly shocked and outraged. To be accused of murder and sorcerous evildoing was unfortunate, but to be suspected of a vulgar and base deception was an insufferable affront to her honor. An Edonaris might poison an enemy, if it were expedient, but would never stoop to cheating on a debt. Nyctasia had fought duels over lesser insults, but there was no way to demand satisfaction from a professional swordswoman like Corson.
She gazed into the fire, silent, until she had mastered her indignation, then said reprovingly, “I am an Edonaris.”
“You are a liar! An excellent liar, if I remember rightly.”
“Not where my honor is concerned. You’ll be paid for your services, never fear.”
Corson bowed. “Pray forgive my offense, Your Ladyship, but I’ve never before served a noblewoman who played the minstrel in a tavern, or cursed by Asye, either. If you don’t respect your own rank, how should I?”
Despite herself, Nyctasia could not keep back a smile. “I’ve never before had a guard as ready with her tongue as with her sword. Consider yourself fortunate that a lady doesn’t lower herself to duel with a social inferior!”
“Oh, I do,” snorted Corson, “very fortunate. Let’s eat.”
They concluded their plans as they approached the port town of Chiastelm, “We’d best settle our accounts first,” said Nyctasia. “I know you’re anxious about your money. I do business with a reliable moneychanger on Market Street-we can go there straightaway,” She paused. “I want to take a cargo ship out of port tonight, but I’d rather the crew didn’t see me before we sail. Can you arrange passage for me?”
“Gladly. But how will I get word to you? Where will you be hiding?”
“I own property just outside of town, an old house overlooking the sea. It’s been closed up for years-it’s supposed to be haunted. I’d thought of going there.”
“I know the place, the old Smugglers’ House. But mightn’t your family look for you there?”
“I doubt they’re so determined to find me that they’ll search every town on the coast. They’ll think themselves well rid of me… still, perhaps I should just take a room in a cheap sailors’ inn-someplace out of the way where they don’t ask questions.”
“It’s The Crow’s Nest you want. No one there wishes to be recognized.”
“It sounds charming.”
“It will be a new experience for you, milady. I’ll meet you there after I’ve seen to your passage. Do you want to take the first ship out of port, wherever it’s bound?”
Nyctasia hesitated. She was not accustomed to revealing her plans to anyone, but she would have to trust Corson this far. “Get me passage to Lhestreq, if you can. What are your plans now?” she asked, turning the subject as she always did when questioned about her own affairs.
Corson smiled. “The first thing I mean to do is get flaming drunk at The Jugged Hare-the owner is an old friend of mine. He’s a darling man, big as a giant and handsome as they come… with green eyes and a bushy black beard,” she added dreamily.
Nyctasia shrugged. “I prefer them clean-shaven, myself. I like to be able to see their faces.”
“Have you got a pretty face waiting in Lhestreq?”
“Inland from Lhestreq,” Nyctasia admitted. “And very pretty indeed.”
“What does he look like?”
“Well, he’s very dark, all except for his eyes-sapphire blue eyes. And he has long, black hair. I like long hair,” she teased.
Corson looked away, blushing.
“He’s lean,” Nyctasia continued, “no taller than most, but he has long, muscled legs… hollowed hips…”
“Mmm,” said Corson appreciatively.
“… and a fine prominent collarbone, all ridge and shadow-I’ve missed that collarbone.”
“I can see why you didn’t marry your cousin.”
“There was no lack of reasons for refusing him.”
“Do you mean to marry the one with the collarbone?”
Nyctasia shook her head. Among families of the highest nobility, marriage was purely a matter of political convenience-a way of confirming an alliance or establishing a dynasty. As far as Nyctasia was concerned, love was a matter quite unrelated to wedlock. “I see no reason for it. Do you mean to marry that bearded giant of yours?”
“I don’t know-maybe someday. But I couldn’t spend all my life in Chiastelm. I get restless. And I’m dangerous when I’m bored,” she said, only half joking.
Nyctasia smiled. “Perhaps you’ll grow bored with wandering, someday.”
“That’s what Steifann says. He had his fill of traveling when he was a boy on the boats, and now he has his own place he means to stick to it.” Corson gazed absently into the distance. “He’s been right about most things,” she admitted.
They rode in silence for a time, each lost in her own thoughts.
When they were within a few miles of the city gates, Nyctasia turned the horses loose and drove them off. “I want to enter the city on foot. A poor student doesn’t own horses like these.”
Before she’d learned of their strange pedigree, Corson had hoped to have the fine horses in fee, but now she watched them trot off without much regret. “But won’t they come back to you again?”
“Not if I send them away myself. They’ll return to my stables, and I pity anyone who tries to stop them.” She looked down at her stained and bedraggled attire.
“I suppose I look as though I’ve been walking for days,” she said, scuffing her boots in the dust of the road. “I certainly feel like it.” She cut herself a stout branch for a staff and blunted one end against a rock to make it look travel-worn.
Corson watched her with distrust and a certain grudging admiration. “Lady, you have the cunning of a sneak-thief.”
“And that’s another thing-take care you don’t call me ‘Lady’ once we’re in the city. Only one person in all Chiastelm knows who I am.”
“The moneychanger.”
“Well, no, in point of fact, I-”
“No?!” shouted Corson. She advanced on Nyctasia menacingly. “Was anything you told me the truth? What about my money? What about your rutting honor?”
“Now Corson, don’t be hasty-listen to me,” said Nyctasia quickly. “I can explain!”