The Heart of the mirage

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Brand and I sat on our shleths at the top of an escarpment and looked across at the Alps. Neither of us had ever seen anything like these mountains before. Ragged peaks scarified the sky, ploughs to snag and shred the wisps of clouds forming there. Mountainsides plunged down, sheer-walled, into shadowed canyons. Snow whipped away from crests in wind-blasted flurries. A landscape of extremes, ruggedly beautiful or grimly forbidding, scenery to be enjoyed – or a barrier to be conquered.

'They crossed those?' Brand asked. 'On gorclaks? By all that's holy, how was it possible?'

'Vortex knows. Yet they are here.' I looked down on the narrow alluvial plain below me. Unlike the Alps, the plains were clearly still part of the Mirage. The grass glittered with silver as if it had been sprinkled with mica; the wind played across it to make waves. Grass crests broke in splatters of silver only to swell, whole again, a moment later. I scarcely noticed. I was gazing at the legionnaire camp erected on the plains, next to the snow-fed river dividing Mirage from alpine foothills. I now had no problem using my enhanced _„

sight to scan the army camp; I may have been thinner than before, but otherwise I'd recovered the strength drained from me several weeks earlier. 'Holy Goddess,' I whispered. 'Favonius said a legion – three thousand men or more.'

'There's not three thousand there, surely.'

'There's not half that number. Vortex, but they are battered, Brand. Some are barely hobbling. Frostbite perhaps? They seem to have most of their gorclaks, though. But where are the camp followers? The support people? These are all soldiers!' I could see no proper kitchen tents set up, no blacksmith's travelling forge, no store, no slaves. I shook my head. 'They have had a hard time, artd yet they are here.'

'Can you see Favonius?' Brand could not make out any detail at all, but he no longer questioned my ability to do so.

'Not from this distance. Let's ride down.'

He was surprised. 'Just like that?'

'Just like that.' I set my shleth at the slope.

'Ocrastes' balls, are you sure, Ligea?'

I grinned at him. I was beginning to feel like my old self again.

There were guards, of course. We were challenged long before we reached the camp, but I spoke to them and one deferentially escorted us to the verandahed tent of the commanding officer, Legate Kilmar. There we dismounted and waited while Kilmar was informed of our arrival. A moment later, we were ushered inside.

The interior had none of the usual luxury of an officer's tent. There was no furniture, just a few cushions and saddle pelts on the floor. The Legate lounged back on some of these, a goblet in one hand and the remains of a meal spread out on a pelt in front

of him. He was a man of fifty, thick and muscular and tough-skinned, his face rough and scarred by a lifetime of campaigns. One of his ankles was bandaged; blood seeped through.

Behind him and to one side stood Favonius, his blue eyes startled, the slant of his nose accentuated by the increased leanness of liis face. His tunic was ragged, his cuirass and greaves scored, but apart from that he appeared unhurt. Military protocol permitted him nothing more than a suggestion of a smile in my direction, but his amazement, his tender regard, the quick climb of his desire were all as obvious to me as if he'd shouted them to the world. I nodded slightly, then ignored him, turning all my attention to the Legate.

'Legate Kilmar? I am Legata Ligea Gayed, Compeer of the Brotherhood.' I did not introduce Brand; to the Legate, a free Altani could never have been anything more than a minor servant. Brand remained by the entrance with his hands clasped behind his back and his face expressionless. Favonius stared at his bare neck and gave a wondering frown.

'Greetings, Legata,' the Legate said. 'It is indeed an honour to receive you. You will please forgive my reluctance to rise. As you can see, I had a slight mishap – a rockfall.' He dismissed the injury with a wave. 'Please be seated. Can I offer you a meal?'

'I have not long eaten,' I said politely. 'A drink would not go amiss, however.'

The Legate nodded to Favonius, who poured some wine from a skin. It had been well watered down and splashed pinkly into a dented goblet. Legionnaires were not known for the moderation of their drinking habits; I could only assume they were low on supplies. 'You know the Tribune, T"believe?' he asked.

'I've had the pleasure. Well met, Tribune Favonius.'

'Well met indeed, Legata. It seems you found a way to cross the Shiver Barrens after all?'

'And you found a way to cross the Alps. Not without cost, though, I think.'

The Legate grimaced. 'There was an avalanche. Those at the back of the column were cut off. More than two thousand men are behind us somewhere, together with the camp followers, most of our supplies and our support slaves. It will take them weeks to clear the route. And that will mean they will have to send back for more supplies before they can join us.' He looked at his foot ruefully. 'There have also been injuries. And deaths. But even a weakened Stalwart legion is better than a legion of ordinary men. We have our gorclaks and our weapons; that's all we need. We can pillage on our way across the Mirage.'

'Perhaps. But you have a bare quarter of a legion, I think. Will you allow me to look at your injury, Legate? I have some experience with doctoring.'

'I would be grateful.' His face tautened, belying his words. He knew any unwrapping of his bandages would hurt him. 'Neither of our physicians made it this far,' he added.

'Get some clean bandages from our pack, Brand,' I said and knelt beside the Legate. I began to unwind the bloodied cloth.

'What brought you here, Legata?' Kilmar asked, gripping his leg above the knee in a valiant effort not to show his pain.

'A warning. You must not proceed. I have come to tell you there is no question of victory here: you must turn back.'

The Legate gave a harsh laugh. 'Legata, I'm certain I couldn't persuade my men to cross the Alps again! i

Besides, the Stalwarts do not turn back, especially when they have not yet seen the enemy.'

'You will see them, and soon. This is a war you cannot win. Legate, the Kardi people of the Mirage make a practice of sorcery. Proceed and the death that awaits you, all of you, is the death of nightmares.'

'Sorcery? Legata, since when has the Brotherhood x believed in sorcery?'

'Since we have come to Kardiastan. You've heard stories, I feel sure. Legate, have you ever known the information of the Brotherhood to be false in concept? A detail here and there, perhaps, but always the basis is correct. Ah, you have broken some bones, I think. Can I have that wineskin, Tribune? I need to wash away some of the infection in the wound.'

Favonius handed over the wine and I continued the conversation where I had left off. 'The Brotherhood does not make mistakes in major matters and it is as Brotherhood Compeer that I tell you, categorically, if you do not turn back you and your men will die almost to a man, killed by the sorcery of the Kardi and their numina.'

I sensed his scepticism and sighed inwardly. This was going to be just as difficult as I had thought it might be. 'The strangeness of this land can hardly have escaped your notice. Have you had a look at the sky?' I gestured with my hand towards the open tent flap. The sky was blue that day and the candleholders had gone, but it was still crazed with lines like the imperfections through a block of ice. 'And haven't you noticed that the grass glitters with silver and hums in the wind?'

'We've noticed.' The Legate shrugged. '"A stranger's. tongue tells strange tales." Every land is different.'

'Your foot should be completely immobilised. And the flesh wound itself should be exposed to the air as much as possible -'

He looked down at his feet in surprise. 'It has stopped hurting. What did you do?'

'Just a small manipulation to make the bones lie better,' I said vaguely. 'Legate, about your return to Tyrans -'

It was almost evening before I emerged from the tent. I was a little drunk, although not as drunk as the Legate had intended, thanks to the watering of the wine. Unfortunately, I had not convinced him he ought to turn back. He had ended by being patronising, treating me as if I were a hysterical woman, an attitude as exasperatingly hard to deal with as it was irrational.

Brand put a hand out to steady me when I lurched slightly. 'Weren't you tempted to use that on the sanctimonious bastard?' he asked, nodding at my left hand. The cabochon was not visible: I still wore my riding gloves.

I pulled a face. 'Almost, almost. Brand, make our camp on the other side of the gorclak lines, will you? Away from everyone else. Sorry I can't help you, but it wouldn't look right.'

He almost laughed. 'Ah, you've come a long way, haven't you, my love?'

I let him enjoy his mockery.

He added amiably, 'But don't worry about me; you go and snuggle up to Favonius. Been a while since you've had a man, hasn't it?'

I gritted my teeth. 'May you disappear into the Vortex, Brand.' I turned away to greet Favonius, who had just come out of the tent.

The Tribune grasped my hands and raised them to his lips. 'Goddess, Ligea, the sight of you is drink to a thirsting man! You've lost weight!' He touched my face with roughened fingers. 'You've been through a lot. By all that's holy, how did you get here?'

'Ah, it's a boring story. I'm sure you have much more to tell. But everything I said in there was true. Favo, you must persuade the Legate to turn back. If you proceed the Stalwarts will suffer a defeat here so devastating, there will be no Stalwarts any more.'

'Goddessdamn, Ligea, can't you think of anything else? Come to my tent and I'll take your mind off sorcery and put it on something much more interesting.'

I shook my head. 'No, Favonius; not any more. That's over.'

He was incredulous. 'Over? What do you mean, over? You ride across the Shiver Barrens, cross this place called the Mirage, all to warn me of the danger, and you say it's over?'

I nodded, wondering why his arrogant certainty that I had done all this for him surprised me. I had always known his faults, as well as his strengths, after all. 'I'm sorry. But that's the way it is.'

He gazed at me, face blank. Then he looked after Brand in disbelief. The emotion that followed the realisation was unpleasant. 'It's him, isn't it? I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw he wasn't wearing his slave collar. You've taken up with your own Altani slave! Goddessdamn, Ligea, to think I never used to believe those rumours about you. Where's your pride? You're a citizen of Tyrans, a Legata! He's an Altani. barbarian – and a slave. Or he was last time I saw him.'

'Don't be tiresome, Favonius,' I said, my voice tight with warning. 'Brand is a friend, a slave no longer.

Please bear that in mind next time you refer to him. He is not – and never has been – my lover. However, you are right about one thing: there is someone else. Who it is doesn't matter. I'm sorry'

The arm he had put around my shoulders had long since slipped away. Rather than see the hurt in his eyes, I turned and walked after Brand.

That night I dined with Favonius and the other tribunes. I told them stories, mostly completely untrue, of Kardi magic powers. I exaggerated and coloured and lied; anything to have them turn back. But they had been through something close to the Vortex of Death on the mountains. They had struggled and survived; faced with a fight against mere Kardis, they felt invincible. The thought of a return across the Alps, where the enemy – nature, an avalanche, the weather – was more obvious, brought them far more dread than any prospect of meeting a Kardi army.

'We are going to wipe those bastards off the face of the earth!' one of the tribunes boasted. 'Every man and boy in the Mirage, right down to those in swaddling clothes.'

'Are those your orders?' I asked. 'Children as well?'

'That's right! If they have anything dangling between their legs, they're dead meat. Women too, if they have gemstones in their palms. Dunno what that means, m'self, but those are the orders. Direct from the Exaltarch, we heard.' He grinned at me, ignoring a furious stare from Favonius. 'You'd better hang onto Favo here, Domina, cos you're going to find it hard to meet another male in the whole of the Mirage in a month or so!'

The latter part of the evening was unbearable. The men teased both me and Favonius, making me the butt

of increasingly coarse jokes, envying him his luck, wondering aloud just what it was about Favonius that had brought his woman across a hostile land to his arms. I tried to freeze them into politeness, in vain. Here, in this remote part of the Exaltarchy, to these men who had endured so much, being the daughter of a general or a compeer of the feared Brotherhood meant nothing. I read their reckless contempt for me and fumed. And I grieved; it was clear my friendship with Favonius was not going to survive the end of our physical relationship. There had been a time when he would not have tolerated my being subjected to such jokes, but I had hurt his pride and his bitterness showed. He grew more and more sullen as the evening wore on.

I conquered my anger and left. Behind me I could hear the laughter of the officers as they asked Favonius why he didn't follow.

I didn't go to my pallet in the tent Brand had rigged away from the main camp. Instead, I sat outside the tent flap on a patch of sand and stared at my cabochon, calling up its power. Brand watched me wordlessly. I concentrated, bringing forth the wind from nothing, turning it, whirling it, calling it across the plain towards me. The gorclaks heard it and stirred uneasily. Brand rose and went to check the tethers of the two shleths where they grazed by the river.

When the wind neared me, I unsheathed my sword, brought the blade to a blaze of light and touched it to the whirlwind. The swirl became more than just movement and sound; it was visible now, a giant gyre of sparking, flaming light, brilliant beyond imagining.

I dropped the sword and concentrated on the cabochon again. Slowly the fiery spout began to move.

It spun towards the main camp, taking in the gorclak lines on the way. It didn't touch the animals: it

v. ''vҐK ft ~ 2.*- fc- – Vv v diM

was not necessary. In desperate fear they broke their tethers and thundered away, trampling their terror-crazed path through the camp.

Everyone was awake now. Those who had not heard the first whine of the wind certainly did not miss the screams of the animals or the shouts of panic from those men who saw the whirlwind or who were run down by the maddened gorclaks.

I enhanced my hearing and eyesight, my finely focused concentration steering the column of whirling air to where it would do the maximum damage to property and the least harm to people. I could not forget that I had once admired these men; that I had once considered them my allies.

Tents flared into flame, cooking fires and pots and saddlery and weapons were whirled up to join the vortex as I systematically destroyed half the camp. I was careful to make its path quite symmetrical; I didn't want anyone thinking this was some sort of natural phenomenon. It had to appear quite deliberate. Once I decided I had done enough damage, I sent the whole maelstrom vertically up into the sky above the camp. There I released my hold on it so it exploded outwards, shooting off in all directions, a vast dissipation of colour and brilliance and fury and noise.

The quiet following the rain of debris was unnatural. Then, a minute or two later, black ash – all that remained of what had been burnt – began to drift down out of the sky in silent witness to the cataclysm.

'That was spectacular,' Brand remarked dryly. 'Is that just the opening act, or is there more to follow?'

I muffled a laugh. 'That's all for tonight.' The colour in my cabochon had dimmed, and fatigue was dragging at the corners of my mind.

Someone was running over the grass towards us. Quickly I sheathed and hid my sword and pulled my leather glove on over my left hand. It was Favonius. He stopped a little distance away, taking in my relaxed posture and the presence of Brand. 'Are you all right, Legata?' he asked stiffly. 'I saw it pass this way-'

'It didn't touch me. That was your warning, Favonius. You must turn back.'

'That – that thing came from them? From Kardis and their numina?'

I nodded.

He looked around uneasily, frowning. 'Where are they?'

'Not here. Miles away probably. But they see you. This was just the beginning. Next time it will be more than just a warning – there will be deaths.'

'There already have been,' he said savagely. 'One of the legionnaires jumped into the river in a panic. He couldn't swim. At least one person was hit by falling debris and killed, maybe more. And I saw a man trampled by a gorclak; I don't know whether he died. And there are tens injured!' He was still looking at me, his eyes flaring with suspicion. 'How do you know where these Kardis are and what they will do? And how in Vortex did you find us anyway?'

'They sent me. To warn you. They don't want unnecessary deaths.'

'They sent you? The Kardis? You, a Legata Compeer? To take a message like some slave? Vortex, Ligea, you've changed since I knew you in Tyr! There was a time when you would have sent them to a lifetime in the Cages and joked about it, not carried their messages.'

'This is not Tyrans, Fayo. This is Kardiastan. I have

no power over these people – they control numina with sorcerous power.'

Fear battled disbelief. 'They have ensorcelled you?'

'No, no. I came of my own free will. To warn you. Tyrans has no way of defeating the people of the Mirage. If you try, you will all die. A wise man shoulders his pack and takes his leave when he meets his match and here the Stalwarts have met something they cannot conquer. Persuade the Legate to turn back, Favo.'

He made a gesture of helplessness. 'Surely you can see how it is? We won't be turning back. We cant. Not when we have come so far and have so little to show for it. We haven't even met the enemy in battle, how can we justify a retreat? We have our pride!'

'You have just met the enemy. And pride won't save you. It will kill you.'

'Yes,' he said bleakly. 'Perhaps. So be it.' He glanced at Brand and then back again. 'And perhaps it won't worry you all that much, either.' He turned towards the camp, shouting orders as he went.

I entered the tent.

'Well, it doesn't seem as though your whirlwind accomplished much, does it?' Brand asked, following me. 'Except the death of a couple of legionnaires.'

I looked across at him, wondering what he was thinking. 'I find that the easier it is to kill, the more reluctant I am to do so, and the harder it is to live with when I have done it.' I pulled off my glove and looked down at my left palm. 'Life was a lot easier when I was a compeer and had no scruples.' I raised my eyes to his. 'Two dead, Brand, just like that. Maybe more. But they had orders to kill babies…'

He nodded, understanding. As I staggered with fatigue and weakness, he came to me wordlessly and

held me in his arms. I took comfort from his closeness and stood within the circle of his love, drawing courage from his friendship. Then, sensing that this time my proximity was not a torment to him, I drew back a little, in wonder. 'I thought – I thought you were the only one who hadn't changed.'

"What do you mean?'

I stepped away from him and went to sit down on my pallet, my arms resting on propped knees. 'Everyone has altered so much. Including myself. I don't think like a Brotherhood Compeer, any more -'

'Goddess be thanked!'

'Perhaps. But I was happier when a compeer was all I was. I was arrogant, cruel even, but at least I was never as uncertain and muddled and miserable as I am now.' I dropped my head down onto my arms. 'And I'm not the only one. Look at Aemid. She's changed. She's free, among her own people in her own land, yet she's racked with guilt. She'll feel even worse once she realises that I haven't betrayed Kardiastan, but Tyrans. And what about Favonius? He wanted to marry me once, and now he looks at me and I can see him thinking, "She's a Kardi, a barbarian. How could I ever have loved her?" He despises me, Brand. I felt his emotions, and I didn't know him! Faced with something he cannot fight, he has reverted to a primitive sort of hate for anyone or anything different from him.' I shuddered. 'Everyone I have touched has changed. Almost as though I contaminate. Do you remember how much Temellin used to laugh? And Garis; he was always so cheerful and resilient – so mischievous! Was that the same youth who left us to go to Temellin? Even Pinar changed. She might always have been jealous, but she wasn't mad at the beginning.' f

¦ He knelt beside me, and touched my hair gently. 'I'm not unhappy. Or despising. Or mad, either.'

'No, but you have changed nonetheless. Your passion for me has dulled. Do – do you fear me, Brand?'

He laughed, an unforced chuckle of amusement. 'No. No, I could never fear you. Not even when I was a slave, and you were that arrogant bitch, hanging on Gayed's every word. I always knew what was inside you, Ligea. I always knew there was more compassion there than cruelty or indifference. And now that compassion rather than arrogance rules you, I think I love you even more than I did then.' n: For a moment I was silent, half hearing what he had not said. 'But?' I asked finally.

He chuckled again, wryly this time. 'There's always a "but", isn't there? At least where you and I are concerned.' He gave a gesture of surrender. 'All those years of being your slave, I never once felt I was not your equal, Ligea. I knew we were equals. I knew I was anyone's equal, for all that I wore a slave collar. I thought one day it would be possible you'd come to love me as I loved you. I thought it could happen, even when you talked of mere friendship. Until these last few weeks. Then I began to realise I wasn't your equal. That I never will be. That you are not for me.' He took up my left hand. The cabochon, quiescent, was just a rounded gem in my palm. He touched it with a finger. 'Because of this. I don't fear you, Ligea, but part of me is in awe of you.'

He raised his eyes to my face. T should be devastated – all those years of loving you wasted because you are unobtainable after all.' ¦. ‹

'But?'

'But I find I'm just resigned. That desperate passion: it is part of my past. I shall always love you,

but not quite the same way. Not any more. You are Magor and you are not for me. I can go forward now. You suggested once I go to Altan, that I help free it from Tyrans, do you remember? I thought the idea ridiculous. Now I'm not so sure. I have become a soldier and find I have some talent for the life. I have found I can lead men, and do it well. So, I shall go back to Altan and try my luck.'

I grinned at him, my depression lifting. 'I'm glad. So very glad. Although I shall miss you more than I can possibly say.'

He returned the grin, but our mutual mood of complacent self-congratulation was short-lived. We had been sitting side by side on the pallet but a sudden heave underneath us sent us both sprawling.

'What the -?' Brand began, but words failed him as he struggled up. We were in the middle of a softly padded pallet the size of a small room. The tent was gone. In its place was a large hall containing a fireplace, complete with a fire, and a table cluttered with objects as diverse as a loaf of bread and a weathervane. Beyond the table, a startled bird ruffled its black feathers and tried to maintain its perch on a pump handle. There was no pump to go with it.

I began to laugh.

'Vortex take it, woman,' Brand growled. 'It's not funny – this damn land will be the death of me! One day my heart will simply not survive the arrival of one of these mirages!'

I continued to giggle helplessly.

'You'd better give some thought to what your Stalwart friends are going to think about this,' he said sourly.

I stifled my laughter. T imagine they will get a shock. Never mind, I shall- go outside and ward the

place; then they won't be able to disturb us.' I picked up my sword and, still chuckling, looked around for a door. Fortunately, there was one.

Favonius arrived before I had finished, and other legionnaires began to gather as well, just to stare at the building, until he sent them on their way with shouted orders. When they had gone, he waved an agitated hand at the structure behind me. 'What is this? Where did it come from? Why can't we enter?'

'This world doesn't work the same way as Tyrans, Favo.'

'Did you do this?'

I stared at him in unfeigned surprise. 'Come now, Favo, when have I ever been able to conjure a building out of nothing?' What had prompted him to say that? I stirred uneasily, and remembered their orders. Kill all women with gemstones in the middle of their hands. That had come from Bator Korbus and Rathrox, of course, with their memories of the early invasions and the Magoroth victories.

I put my left hand behind me and changed the subject. 'Tell me, did you inform the Legate of what I said earlier tonight?'

T did. We are not retreating.'

'That's a mistake. You had better prepare yourself for more trouble.'

'Damn it, Ligea, just whose side are you on here? Give us some help! What can we do to combat this kind of sorcery?'

'I came here to offer you the only kind of help I can give you: good advice. This is a war you can't win. Turn back.'

'There must be something we can do to – to defend ourselves. Counter-spells perhaps…' He looked as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying.

'There is nothing.'

'I don't understand you. You're acting as if your loyalties are to Kardiastan, not Tyrans. Tell us, at least, how to cross the Shiver Barrens. Then – win or lose – we won't have to cross those Vortex-scoured Alps again.'

'Favo, I can't tell you that.' It would have opened up the Mirage to attack from Tyranian troops in Kardiastan.

'Why not? You must have done it, or you wouldn't be here.'

When I didn't reply, he shouted at me. 'What's happened to you? You're behaving like a traitor, Ligea Gayed! A traitor to your country, to the memory of your father! You help us, or there'll be a report about you on die Magister Officii's desk the minute I'm in a position to have it there.'

For a moment we stood staring at each other, both aware there had been another fundamental change in our relationship, a change that had gone too far to ever be reversed.

And he wasn't finished yet, either. 'I should have known not to get involved with a Kardi barbarian,' he said and his viciousness went straight to my inner core of uncertainties. 'You're shit, Ligea, and you're the colour of shit. You always did have the vulgarity of an ill-bred barbarian. What highborn woman of Tyr consorts with the Brotherhood? What real Domina makes friends of her slaves? You never did have any class! And you geld a man. I only ever took up with you because I thought it would do my career good to be seen with a general's daughter but, by Ocrastes' balls, it's been a hard grind to bed such an ugly, castrating whore.' _,

Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

I felt his hate, I experienced it. I dragged in breath as hurt ripped through my chest.

No, Favonius, no. Don't end it like this. We were friends…

He'd loved me once, as much as he was capable of loving. He said so often enough, and my ears knew the truth when it was spoken. Even the words he'd just used were no more than a skimming of surface validity obscured by a twist of bitter lies. Why, then, did it hurt me so much? My insides cramped.

The colour of shit. Ugly.

When I re-entered the building a few minutes later, it was to find Brand leaning elegantly against the mantelpiece to one side of the fireplace, sipping a glass of wine. 'Well,' he said, 'at least they got something right this time. This is very good wine.' He held out a glass to me. 'Bet it tastes better than that pink stuff you were drinking earlier on. Rather nice glassware, too. Beautifully cut.'

I came across to take it. 'Mmm. Just what I need. A drink, a warm fire, a soft bed -' I raised my glass in a toast, but then didn't drink. I was suddenly stilled, my own words a revelation to me. Moments passed with neither of us speaking.

'I was never meant to be celibate,' I said finally.

'Why now?' The words blurted out of him; he was caught by surprise.

'Because now we are friends. Because now you will be able to walk away afterwards.' Because Temellin's gone from my life and I need comfort. Because I need reassurance that I am not an ugly, castrating whore…

He nodded thoughtfully. 'In some things, my Magor friend, you were wiser than I. You were right -

there was a time when this would have been a disaster.' He reached out, took my wine and put the two glasses down on the table. 'But not now.' He took me into his arms and bent his head towards my lips. 'Now,' he murmured, 'this is exactly right.'

When I looked out of the door the next morning, it was to see the legionnaires trying to restore what was left of the camp to some kind of order, and herding stray gorclaks back to the tether lines. They were carefully avoiding passing near – or even looking at – a jet of water shooting up out of the grass of the plains just behind the camp. The water fell to the ground in rainbowed droplets, each a musical note singing like the plucked strings of a harp. A flock of purple ducks preened nearby, ruffling their feathers and their ribbons in obvious enjoyment of the shower.

Inside, Brand was poking around among the things on the table, looking for something to eat. The black bird had abandoned its perch on the pump handle and was now on the mantelpiece, flat on its back with its feet up in the air. Its bright red eyes regarded Brand's investigations with interest.

I pushed away my guilt and smiled at Brand fondly. I had wondered if his lovemaking would disappoint me. I had wondered, now I knew what the touch of a lover's cabochon could achieve, if I were doomed to dissatisfaction without it, but I hadn't