When the tide that carried her had receded, he lay beside her again and held her, drawing up the sheet. Lunete kissed his mouth cautiously, then warmly.

"Mmmm," Dewar murmured, thinking what a fool Ottaviano was, a journeyman half-educated in other things than sorcery. "Are you pleased, Lunete," he whispered.

"Oh yes. Was I supposed to do-"

"Whatever you like, as long as you enjoy it," he a.s.sured her, smiling, embracing her. "I would please you," he added, his mouth behind her ear.

"You did. Oh, Dewar . . . That was so- It wasn't at all like when-"

He put two fingers on her lips and stopped her. "It's always different," he said. And, he thought, a lady never makes comparisons; her inexperience was sweet, appealing of itself.

"Is it?" Lunete asked, and smiled, brilliant-eyed.

Dewar smiled slowly and said, "Yes," and they set out to establish that as true.

"Different?" he asked, a husky whisper in her ear. He kissed her neck, nibbled the tender lobe.

"Ohhh." Lunete arched her back.

"I shall take that as a yes."

"Yes, do."

The fire was nearly out. Lunete turned onto her stomach and lay flat, smiling, her chin pillowed on her hands. Dewar 294.

ttizabetk stretched beside her and held her, and soon she fell asleep as he knew she would, smiling still.

He considered how he would depart. The hour was late; doors and windows would be locked. He had not planned to be in the castle so long, nor to make love to her. Carefully, he sat up and reached down to the floor for his shirt. As he pulled it over his head, it brushed Lunete and she woke with a start.

"You're leaving."

"I must."

She nodded and turned over, pulling the bedclothes to her chin as she sat up. Dewar pulled them down and kissed her.

Lunete pressed her lips to his cheek. "Don't go," she whispered.

"I shall go, for your countrymen speak against women who please themselves," Dewar said. He trailed his fingers up her spine and moved a lock of her hair from her cheek. "I cannot stay; it would be held to your blame, Lunete, and I will not contribute to your harm."

She smiled reluctantly. "I beg you pardon a woman's weakness. There's reason in what you say, reason and good sense."

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it lightly, then bent and found more of his garments. Lunete put out a hand and took her golden smock from the foot of the bed. She pulled it on to cover her small b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her pale smooth shoulders.

When he was dressed save for his boots, she said, "Dewar," and he looked again at her dark eyes in the candlelight. "When might I see you again?" she asked softly.

Dewar thought of one answer, then another, and then a third which pleased him well, and he said, "Tomorrow night, if you will it so. I cannot tarry after that, but tomorrow . . ." He let his voice fade.

"Yes," she said. "Shall I send for you? Where do you stay?"

"I will not tell you, nor shall you send for me. I'll come to you as I did this night."

Sorcerer and a Qtntl&man 295.

"Very well. At the same hour?"

"As tonight. Do not look for me; 1 will be here." He smiled.

Dewar watched Lunete's maids disrobe her, watched Lau-dine brush out her hair and plait it. The Countess was in a mild humor, or her women more adroit; no reprimands were uttered. There was a tray with a bottle and a goblet on it on top of a chest near the fire tonight, Lys wine. Lys did not grow much wine, but some of the southern river-valleys had produced locally-salable stuff.

After her women left Lunete alone, Dewar stood silent and still, looking at her. She had risen from the bed and gone to stand at the fire. He watched the light play on her face from four paces' distance, and when she glanced away he stepped quietly over to stand behind her, slipping his arms around her waist.

"Lunete," he murmured, stilling her startled gasp with his hand. He kissed the back of her neck, whispering; his body shimmered into visibility again.

"Dewar," she said, turning in his arms and embracing him ardently, and they said hardly a word more for several hours.

Then they lay cheek-to-cheek on the pillow, agreeably exercised, and watched the flame of the thick honey-scented candle consume wick and wax.

"Are you real?" Lunete said lazily, lifting her head.

"Yes," Dewar answered, lifting his eyebrows. He moved a strand of her hair out of his eyes.

"You appear and disappear like one of the wood-spirits my nurse used to warn me about," she said, smiling as she reached down and stroked his thigh, "out of the darkness, into the darkness, perhaps changing into a stag or a bull. . . ."

"I promise I am no incubus, but a sorcerer."

"It's the same thing."

"It certainly is not," he retorted, "although," he continued thoughtfully, "some of the superficial characteristics 296 -^ 'E&zafctfi 'WUtey may be similar." And he moved her hand and lifted her hips, shifted his body under her. "There?" he suggested, and began to rock.

"Oh," she said, and bent to kiss him, and they swayed together as her "Oh" became a low, throaty moan.

Later, beside a shorter candle than before, they rested again, wordlessly kissing and touching. Lunete stretched, her body tingling and tired, and then sat bolt upright.

"Someone's in the solar!" she whispered.

Dewar threw her nightdress at her and rolled out of the bed, s.n.a.t.c.hing at his own clothing strewn here and there. Lunete pulled the shift over her head. Footsteps and a murmur of voices were audible on the other side of the door.

"Under the bed!" she whispered. "Quick!"

Dewar didn't argue; the door handle moved. He hit the floor and rolled.

Lunete flopped down, bedclothes over her, and feigned sleep. Dewar saw that one of his boots was visible still, reached out to s.n.a.t.c.h it under the bed with him. The floor was cold and gritty. He'd slid to the side farthest from the candle's light, with no time to don a st.i.tch.

A light glimmered on the floor. Footsteps. A male sigh. Rustle.

"Lunete," said Ottaviano softly.

Dewar stuffed his shirt in his mouth, stifling his snort of laughter. The cloth smelled of Lunete. He stifled another reaction, and then more laughter at himself.

"Otto? Ottaviano! What are you doing here?"

"Missed you," said Otto. The mattress moved. "Move over, sweetheart."

The bed bounced.

"Get out of here!" said Lunete angrily.

Oh, no, Dewar thought. Lunete would ruin it- "What?" replied Otto. "I'm taking a h.e.l.l of a chance being here at all-"

The bed bounced again and dust sifted down onto Dewar lying naked on his back beneath it. Lunete continued, "You certainly are! Who do you think you are? What do you mean by sauntering in here? You shall lie elsewhere, sir!"

Sorcerer and a Qentteman 297.

"I'm your husband, remember?"

"It seems to have slipped your mind not long after the wedding! Where have you been?"

"At the war! You know that! What-"

"Why haven't you written to me? You've sent three brief letters and two one-line notes. I've read more engaging tax bills! What do you think you are, that you can go off to Landuc or wherever you were and take half my able-bodied men with you-"

Dewar grinned. The Countess of Lys was a shrewd tactician.

"-to fight your d.a.m.ned war, not mine, and then show up expecting me to greet you with open arms! You're a fine one to talk about being a husband. What kind of husband never writes his wife? I'd just about decided you were dead!"

"I couldn't-" Otto began, and changed his line, "I've been so busy, so tired-"

"Busy! Tired! Then get out of here until you're at leisure and rested. I'm busy too, and I'm tired, tired of waiting for you to write or send a message or come back and resume the marriage we put off so that you could take my people into Ascolet and get them killed and tramp off with that rotten Prince to get involved with things that are none of our business! What's kept you so busy, Otto? Tell me! And to what do 1 owe the remarkable favor of this audience with Your Highness?"

"Lunete! Be reasonable! We've been in Chenay, way the h.e.l.l out West, and Gaston's given us the filthiest duties, and by the Well don't get sarcastic with me, Countess! I've had a bad time of it while you've been sitting snug and secure here in Lys!"

Lunete's bare feet hit the floor and walked away from the bed. "Oh, how sad. You left home and went to war and didn't like it! Could that be because you were not victorious?"

Ottaviano's scarlet-stockinged feet thumped down and followed her. "What's got into you? You thought this was a fine idea. You sure didn't mind. You thought the risk was worth taking, Countess of Lys! I never concealed the possi- 298.

'LOzoBeth bility of a loss from you! Never!" he said, his voice lowering on the last word.

"You certainly didn't tell me it would mean I wouldn't see hide nor hair nor word from you in three-quarters of a year and more," she hissed. "I have misgivings, Baron. Our marriage could still be annulled, you know. The Emperor hasn't acknowledged it yet."

"What? Annulled! Lunete, this is a temporary war, not permanent. It's going to be over in a few days - "

"Days! I don't believe you. I've heard nothing good from any quarter about the fortunes of your army and your great Marshal against Prince Prospero."

"He's captured."

"And escaped," Lunete retorted. "Fine bunch of soldiers you are."

"Where did you hear that? Bad news really does travel - Yes, captured, escaped, and captured again! He was careless. I took him myself and I've prisoned him in my own Malperdy in Ascolet. And believe me, madame, I swear by the Well that he shall not leave there save on my word. Gaston was stupid, an honorable idiot, and he trusted that turncoat renegade Dewar alone with Prospero, and of course Dewar was in his pocket."

"I don't believe that either. Dewar never said he was anybody's. He said he was with you because he liked you and he liked your cause. Remember? He wouldn't sell his services. Unlike some of your friends."

"Flames of Eternity! Leave him out of this - "

"You brought it up. If he did release the Prince, good for him! It's an evil day for the world when the Emperor and Princes kill each other out of spite."

"He's a rebel."

"Avril usurped his place. He has a legitimate quarrel. His quarrel! And the Emperor's! Not ours. Not Lys's! I want my people home again before any more of them are killed in this stupid fight of yours and the Emperor's and the Marshal's."

"You are bound by fealty-vow to provide the Emperor with troops whether you like it or not - "

Sorcerer and a Qentieman 299.

"I have taken no vow yet to anyone but you, and I'm sorry I took that one. Leave my chamber! I married a husband, not a mercenary."

"You married me," Otto said.

"Touch me not, sir!" Lunete cried, and there was a quick step, a m.u.f.fled sound, and then the thud of a blow followed by a wooden clunk as Otto yelped. "Lu!" he gasped.

"And get out of here until you've learned to behave like a gentleman."

Otto was swearing in a whisper. Below the belt, Dewar guessed, and m.u.f.fled another snort of laughter in his shirt.

Lunete stood still for a moment and then walked to the door. "Laudine!" she called, distantly.

"Lu, get back here," Otto demanded, his voice still tight, and Dewar heard him get to his feet and follow her out of the room.

The sorcerer under the bed took the opportunity to squirm agilely into his breeches. Voices continued in the solar; he pulled his shirt over his head and succeeded in donning most of his clothing except his boots, which he would not put on until he was nearly outside. Lunete and Otto left the solar and went elsewhere, still arguing.

Dewar rolled from under the bed and rose cautiously. He ducked behind it in the shadow of the hangings and closed his eyes, drawing on the Well and murmuring the spell of concealment which would wrap light and shadow around him. He was not interrupted; the candle burned steadily, and the fire's coals lay pa.s.sive on the hearth.

Unseeable, Dewar began to leave, but paused at the fireside. The wine stood untasted. He lifted it, studied the label, and removed the loosened cork.

With a ceremonial air, he filled the goblet, turned and toasted the bed silently with a bow, and drained it. Goblet and bottle he replaced on their tray. Good, he noted to himself; a solid domestic white with no pretension to greater than local interest, but with a pleasantly acid afterbite. Refreshing.

Grinning, boots in hand, he padded out of the room and away.

26.CLOAKED IN AIR AND DARKNESS AND good double-WOVCn wool, shod in soft boots, Dewar noiselessly climbed the thousand stairs of Malperdy Keep behind the walls of the castle also called Malperdy. The Keep was the heart of Ascolet, one of the oldest fortresses in all Pheyarcet, reputedly built by Panurgus himself in the early days, and it looked its age; several times Dewar stumbled on the unevenly-worn steps, each time halting and listening for alerted guards. Curious that there was no guard at the bottom of the topmost flight, where a wall intersected the keep. He hoped that Prospero had not been moved. The dungeons would have been a likelier holding-pen for a Prince of Air: likelier, but less easy to control mayhap. Well, thought Dewar, it was not his decision, but he would have put guards at the bottom. Otto's men were slacking, perhaps.

He came around the last turning of the stair and stopped. Someone was crouched low in front of Prospero's door, a dark bent back in the light of the torch which guttered with Dewar's stirring of the air. There was a pile of junk on the floor beside this furtive-looking person, which Dewar's eyes sorted out after a moment as discarded armor: a breastplate and helm, other pieces.

Looking round, the footpad's face was shown in the light too: Dewar held himself very still. He recognized the face; he had spent ten days getting to know it in the s...o...b..und manor-house in Chenay, more than a quarter of a year ago by his clock but not half a month by hers. It was the young woman who had dragged Dewar out of the ditch and doctored him. She was dressed in the sheepskin jacket and trousers and boots she had worn when he'd first met her, now somewhat the worse for wear.

For a long, breath-holding moment she stared through Sorcerer and a gentleman 301.

him at the empty stairs, and then, biting her lip, she turned back to the door. Dewar smiled. Lockpicking.

A loyal partisan indeed, she had tracked her leader here and-how, the Sun and Moon could never know, probably-slipped in. He suspected she was the reason there were no guards at the bottom of the stair.