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wife was almost too much. He wondered how Kalena would take the news.
    Ridge left the softly lit hall and stepped out into the oblong moonlit garden that divided Quintel's side of the house from the servants' quarters and the guestrooms. Quintel was a gracious host, but he insisted on his own privacy, regardless of how many people he chose to entertain under his expansive roof. No one violated Quintel's private sphere without permission.
    Ridge could have walked all the way around the garden under the shelter of the colonnaded portico that surrounded it. But tonight the garden paths of gleaming, iridescent rainstone were far too inviting to ignore. The rainstone was bathed in the red glow of Symmetra, reflecting the moonlight with almost unbelievable brilliance. Ridge glanced up at the red orb and decided Quintel probably knew what he was doing. He usually did. The time of the month when Symmetra was at its fullest was an auspicious time to begin a major venture. A full moon was traditionally a trader's moon, and although he was not strictly a trader, Ridge had his share of belief in trading luck. In his view there was always room for the random appearance of luck at any point along the Spectrum, even if a man had to create that luck for himself.
    He was halfway across the garden, almost to the black and white onyxite fountain with its shimmering black and white spray of water, when Ridge realized his quarry was not waiting conveniently in her chamber. He stopped, unconsciously using the shadow of the perfectly proportioned fountain to shield himself as he watched Kalena make her way through the garden. Perhaps the light of the red moon on the rainstones had lured her from her room. Or perhaps she was simply restless. Ridge wished he knew more about women in general. He sometimes found it very difficult to tell what they were thinking, even more difficult to tell what motivated them. But could a man be expected to understand that which sprang from the Light end of the Spectrum? He could only do his best to control it.
    He watched Kalena for a moment, aware that he found her pleasing to look at in the moonlight. Her hair was a tumbled mass of red tinted curls, her light colored tunic an odd shade of gold beneath Symmetra's glare. She moved with the grace he had noted earlier and it made him wonder how she would move beneath him in bed. Something within him suddenly ached to find out. He was considering his unexpectedly fierce physical reaction when he realized she was heading for the portico that ran along Quintel's side of the large house.

    Kalena didn't realize anyone else was in the garden until Ridge spoke quietly from directly behind her. At the sound of his voice, she whirled around, startled.
    "Those are the trade baron's apartments," Ridge said quietly, his eyes unreadable in the red moonlight.
    "No one goes into that portion of the house without an invitation from Quintel himself."
    Kalena struggled to regain her poise. "I'm sorry. I did not realize I was on the verge of intruding. This house is so large, it's easy to become confused." That last bit was true. The house, with its two stories of spacious rooms and its endless gardens, was far larger than any home she had ever seen, even the half-remembered Great House of her early childhood. The mansion was made up of a sequence of rooms and gardens perfectly designed to present contrast after contrast. Circles and ovals were separated by squares, rectangles and oblongs, each room carefully proportioned to compliment the adjoining chambers and gardens.
    But Kalena's reference to the elaborateness of the house was only a ruse, and she hoped Ridge would not realize that she wasn't as lost as she claimed to be. She had known very well that she was nearing Quintel's apartments, having casually asked a servant to explain the layout of the house. An assassin needed to make plans, and to do that she needed to know Quintel's evening routine. Olara's instructions were certainly