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returning from the Heights of Variance with a shipment of Sand. Ridge got to his feet with a sudden sense of decisiveness. No better time than the present to begin making certain of Kalena's sense of commitment. He smiled rather grimly at his lord.
    "You have not set me a simple task, Quintet. You realize, of course, that even though she's only a farmer's daughter, she can still claim a better heritage than I can."
    Quintel gave him an odd, understanding look. "You have spent most of your life proving to me and everyone else that the fact you were born a bastard wasn't going to keep you from taking what you wanted in this world. Surely you're not going to let a mere country girl intimidate you. Besides, once she's been a trade wife, she can hardly claim more respectability than you can. $,
    Ridge shrugged. "Perhaps. I wonder if she knows."
    "Knows what? That you have no House name? I'm sure she does by now. There won't be any lack of people willing to inform her that you grew up on the streets of Countervail without the benefit of a father's name. I wouldn't let it worry you."
    Ridge's jaw tightened as he pushed old memories aside. There was no point thinking of those early days.
    He had escaped from the poverty and the brutality of that world and the life that had killed his mother.
    She had been worn out before Ridge was even eight. She had died of some respiratory disease that could easily have been cured by a Healer, if his mother could have afforded one. No, his mother hadn't survived the grinding life of the streets, but Ridge had. Quintel was right. Ridge wasn't going to let his past concern him now. His goals were within reach, and if seizing his destiny meant first having to seduce and control his new trade wife, then so be it.
    "If you will excuse me, I think I will go to my chamber. It's late and I've had a full day." Ridge started for the door.

    Quintel set down his goblet. "It's time for me to retire also. I still have my studies to attend to this evening."
    Ridge smiled. "Has anything ever kept you from your appointed hours of study?"
    "Nothing," Quintel said simply. He rose, his black-clad body looking ascetically thin. "Iwis will be at my study door any minute now with my evening glass of Encana wine."
    Ridge nodded and turned to leave the room. "I wish you good evening, then, my lord."
    "Ah, Ridge, there is just one other thing."
    Ridge halted and turned to confront his employer warily. "Yes?"
    "This marriage of yours ... I think we should celebrate it properly."
    Ridge eyed the other man. "It's a business arrangement. It needs no celebration."
    "For the woman's sake, Ridge. It will make the arrangement seem more of a real marriage to her. More romantic, more emotionally binding. Besides," Quintel said, allowing himself one of his rare grins, "I have a mind to see you properly wedded, my boy. You have always escaped the necessity of taking a trade wife in the past. Who knows? First time out may prove lucky for you. This contract you have with Kalena might become permanent. I think we should give you both a proper send-off."
    "You've decided to indulge your odd sense of humor at my expense, haven't you, Quintel?" Ridge said with a stifled groan.
    Quintel's grin disappeared. "My instincts tell me the wedding would be a good first step for this venture. I want all the luck on the Spectrum I can get for this trip."
    "Putting me through the paces of a formal wedding ceremony strikes you as lucky?"
    "Don't complain. I'll be paying for it."
    "Somehow," Ridge said as he turned again to leave, "I have a feeling I'll be the one who winds up paying.
    One way or another."
    He opened the curved moonwood door, the only point of color in the all-white room, and walked down the hall with a feeling of deep irritation. He would kill for Quintel if the necessity arose, and had done it more than once in the past. But being forced to endure a full-scale wedding ceremony when the bride was merely destined to be a short-term trade