LITMIR.BIZ

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made far more sense this time. Far harder, less noble, more likely sense, that our destruction was already destined, that Dhasdein and Verrain and Cataract had fixed on it, that he had indeed fought tooth and nail for the general’s command. Not to have his revenge on us. Simply, as he had tried, over and over, to protect his new loyalties. To save as much as he could of Amberlight.

      I pulled the second boot off. Stood up and held out my hands. When he reached his feet again, I touched his cheek and said, “I can guess.”

      Some of the strain went out of him, a long, soundless breath. Carefully, I worked the trousers down his hips. We were close beside the water. I gave him a hand down the stones.

      It was evening, autumn, and a stream off the Iskans. He was out in two shaken gasps and I picked my way over him with the soap. When I took up the bucket he said, “I can get in again.”

      “We’re upstream.”

      “Yes, of course—”

      He stopped.

      In some ways that was the worst moment of all. Worse than losing him that first time, thinking myself betrayed. For this was the new life. I had taken him into it. And now I saw the gulf between us: that he, even he, who had begun as a foot soldier, who could feel a child-bereft woman’s grief, could so simply think—could just assume—it did not matter if we fouled the water.

      With a camp of three hundred people downstream.

      What woman of Amberlight could forget? Could act, were she the veriest stevedore, as if they were not part of her? Sweet work-Mother! I nearly shouted. You accused us of injustice! And you want to be part of us. Coming from a world like that: where even generals like you can’t see the people underneath.

      “Tel. Tel. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I’m not used—Tel, give me time. I’ll work at it. It won’t happen again.”

      And he would work at it, fast as he had understood, it needed no pledge beyond those inimitable wits.

      He was huddled over, clutching the bad arm, shivering as hard as his chattering teeth. I yanked the bucket over and sank it with one vehement swirl, heaved up and ran it to his side. “Hold on. I’ll be quick.”

      When I had him dry, a pair of someone’s leggings, a Dhasdein infantry tunic and some cameleer’s coat on him, the shivering had almost stopped. He picked up the dirty clothes himself. It was true, he would work at it. Azo took the horse. Walking back into camp, I touched his cheek again. “I don’t have a razor, myself.”

      “There’s one somewhere.” Meaning his own makeshift kit, slung in a knapsack at the saddlebow. “Only I can’t manage it . . .”

      But someone else could. I pushed his hair back, clean now, if not so finely scented as once. “Will you let Azo take you wherever they’ve put me? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

      I had been Head when he first knew me. When did he not have to compete for my time? He moved the right arm to put it round me; winced. Tried to smile. “I won’t be going anywhere.”

      * * *

      After four nights on the road I could hope my target would be at his self-appointed work; hence out of my camp, and handily open to approach. I caught him just walking from the pair of Dhasdein five-man infantry shelters that had become Ahio the shaper’s tents.

      “Sarth?”

      He broke stride; swung round, mallet dangling. He smelt of cow dung and sweat instead of hyacinths, there was grease on his green and brown troublecrew shirt, his beautiful hair was tied back in a tail under yet another rascally straw hat. His features looked naked, without the men’s house-veil, his exquisite skin was sunburnt. But he could still make my pulse jump with that smile.

      “What brings me this honor, Tellurith?”

      Once it would have slid malice like a stiletto, straight between your ribs. How can I say what it was, to hear honest amusement instead?

      “I need you for something, of course.” I smiled too, putting my hand on his arm. No hardship in either move. He was still so splendidly tall. And to him, fresh from the tower, there could be no greater compliment.

      “A double honor. Might one ask . . . ?”

      It had all come so happily, it was so logical, so apt. But now, of a sudden, there was a constriction in my breath.

      “I just wanted you to—ah—”

      He was waiting, brows up, that lovely new, open smile.

      “Ah—”

      Trust, warmth, love renewed. And I was going to smash it. With my own two hands.

      “What is it, Tellurith?”

      The voice had changed. In his own way he was as redoubtably shrewd as Alkhes. Just trained in a different field.

      I looked up the five inches to those topaz eyes. So warm, so kind, so wholly concerned with me; the way he had used to ask, when nothing mattered more than solacing my woes.

      “It’s Alkhes.”

      I said it baldly. There was no other way.

      “I see.”

      “No, you don’t, Sarth, wait!” He had not moved. It was in himself he was going away from me, the warmth running like blood. “He didn’t get killed, he came after us, he—”

      “He’s in your tent.”

      “Sarth . . .”

      How much explanation, how much plea, can you put in a single word?

      “I’ll get my things out, now.”

      “No! Listen to me! That’s not what I want!”

      He stood there. Stone to the very eyes.

      “You’re my husband—”

      “Just temporary.”

      The stiletto never cut so deep. I actually put a hand to my side. His muscles flexed to turn.

      “Blast it, wait! It’s not temporary! That’s what I’m saying!”

      It stopped him dead. All he could do was stare.

      “He’s your lover—”

      “I told you—!”

      “Your favorite.”

      I actually shook him. “Sarth, will you listen? This is not the tower and it’s not Amberlight. We can do what we want now. I can do what I want. You’re my husband and I’ve got you back. And I’m keeping you. I’m marrying him as well!”

      For a while I thought he really had died. But eventually his face shifted. He started breathing again.

      Looked down, and then, one by one, loosened my fingers from his arm.

      “Tellurith.” He actually sounded groggy. “Even for you, this is—”

      “For me it’s just good sense.” I had not meant to break it this way, but there was no going back.

      “But you can’t—”

      “We’re on our own now, and I can!”

      He shook his head. “I don’t—”

      “Do you want to go?”

      People and beasts squirmed by us in the alleyway, children skirmished round our legs. The sky had gone ice-pink and lavender between the silhouettes of tent. I knew there were people, a whole camp’s routine waiting on me. But for that moment, we were alone.

      And at last, so slowly, he shook his head.

      I felt my breath go out. “I know it won’t be easy. I know I’m asking far too much. But if you could try . . .”

      He was still looking at me. Those topaz eyes had darkened

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