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was something nearby to hold onto. I took three steps back to put my hip against the fence.
    He hadn’t moved forward. “Please. Don’t make me choose between my duty and what you prefer.”
    “What I prefer .” I put both hands behind me to hide the shaking. “Yes. You will have to choose, you bastard. Now get off my land or arrest me.”
    “I’m not a constable. I don’t arrest…”
    “Whatever it is you do, when your king commands you. Either go or take me.”
    He froze, even more still. The sun shone in his dark hair, raising the red in it. I’d said, “or take me.” I suddenly heard the double meaning in that, totally unintended. But retracting or explaining would dilute the words, and if he heard both meanings he was welcome to them. But not to me, in any way, shape or form. I’d fight him on this as long as I could.
    “I’ve just found you again, after so long.” His voice was weary. “Could we please not do this? Could we just sit and talk? Get to know each other again? And then you can pack a few things and make a small trip. One short job for your king, and you’ll be back here in your sanctuary none the worse for wear. I’ll be at your side the whole time, I swear it.”
    I could almost taste the picture that made. So my voice was harsher than ever when I asked, “How can you swear to it? What if your king wants me to stay in Riverrun at his beck and call? What if he orders you on another errand?”
    He gave me no answer then, and I turned away. “I’m going inside. You can stay here, or leave, or come and drag me out by my hair. I see no other choices.”
    I’d gone a dozen steps toward the house, hearing nothing behind me, when his voice drifted to me, softly. “I like your hair.”
    Gods-bedamned mother-screwing bastard. I went inside and closed and bolted the door.
    ****

CHAPTER THREE
    I spent the evening curled up with my most prized possession. The book was battered, with some of the first pages torn out. The peddler who’d brought it to me said they’d been used to start a fire. “What good is a book no-one can read, save for the paper?” He was lucky I’d had to let him live. If my glare could have started a fire, he’d have been charred.
    Still, for once, no-one included me. The wraith had left me owning a dozen old and forgotten tongues, and a few newer ones, but this one was unknown to me. It was naggingly familiar, having the sound of britarian when read phonetically, and here and there a few words that seemed to make sense in that language. I thought it might be a much older form, but the paper was modern. Perhaps it was a copy. I puzzled at it when I needed my brain totally engaged.
    And tonight I really needed that. I’d spent all afternoon and half the evening waiting for Tobin to knock on my door and take up his arguments. I had my heart hardened against even opening the latch for him. So it was a distraction and annoyance, instead of a relief, when the sun was long down and he still hadn’t come. I leaned closer to the book. Could teshmian mean the same thing as tesh-man ?If so, this might be a household guide of some kind, dealing with the running of a large keep. The words I’d found were mostly domestic ones.
    Eventually I put the book carefully back on the shelf. I hadn’t jotted a note for over an hour. I glanced out at the dark beyond the window, and wondered what time it was. I’d had a clock once, but I’d beaten the little gears out of it one night, when it refused to move forward at a reasonable pace. I’d decided not to replace it. The cycle of light and dark were enough for me.
    My knife called to me and tonight I didn’t even try to fight it. The little blade winked in the lamplight as I picked it up.
    I wondered if Tobin actually had the stones to make me go with him. If I cried— make that if I screamed— would he still bundle me up and drag me back to his king, like a cat bringing home a half-dead mouse? He’d called me friend. He’d even