Pattern

'Are you?'

He nodded. 'What with dragging around big lumps of wood all day, and all that stupid stuff yesterday; and the day before that getting bashed on the head when I fell over. I expect something horrible happened to me the day before that, too, but I can't remember that far back.'

'You poor thing.' She wriggled across the bed and draped her arms around his neck. 'One thing's for sure, it's been far more exciting around here since you showed up. Mostly horrible, of course, but exciting. Especially for me. If you hadn't turned up when you did, I'd probably have ended up marrying Turgren, from out over Vitesness.'

He gave up trying to reach his boot. The feel of her arm against his cheek was extraordinary. 'That wouldn't have been a good thing, then.'

She shook her head. 'He's bald and fat and about ten feet tall. I'd have needed to stand on a chair to kiss him, though why I'd want to do that God only knows. He's only got four teeth.'

He put his hands on her hips. 'Teeth aren't everything,' he said.

'True.' She traced round his lips with the tip of her tongue. 'So you think I should've married him instead?'

'Yes,' he replied. 'But you didn't, so I guess we've both got to make the best of a bad job.' Very carefully, he brushed his knuckles up and down her left nipple; she shivered, and her smile faded. 'Tell me something,' he said. 'Did they feel that next door?'

'I hope not. They need their sleep.'

Poldarn grinned. 'I expect they're asleep already.'

'Then they'll have interesting dreams.' Elja caught hold of his hand and steered it back to her breast. 'I've got a feeling you've done this sort of thing before.'

'Probably,' he replied, thinking about Prince Tazencius's daughter, who'd married him for love, apparently. 'I can't remember, though.'

'Pity.'

He repeated his earlier manoeuvre, finding that he knew exactly where to place his hand without having to look (it was like making the draw, in that sense). 'It's all right,' he said, 'I find that these things tend to come back to me, in emergencies.'

She called him an idiot and kissed him, suddenly and ferociously; and for some time after that he was too busy to think. But afterwards he listened for her in his mind, and still, in spite of everything that had happened between them, she wasn't there; so he lay on his back in the darkness, eyes open, feeling hopelessly alone and lost.

At some point he must have let his mind wander, because the voice had been speaking for some time before he started listening to what it was saying.

'That's the extraordinary thing,' she was saying, 'it's like suddenly I can feel you inside my mind, as well as the rest of me. I don't know, maybe everybody feels that way when it's someone they really love. It's a very nice feeling, though. Sort of complete.'

He had no idea who she was; but now she mentioned it, he could remember the moment she was talking about, when he'd taken advantage of her complete surrender to break into her mind. It had been much easier than he'd expected, he'd hardly needed to apply any material degree of force (and she, poor innocent thing, had probably assumed it was usual under such circumstances). Once he was in there, it had proved to be something of a disappointment, like battering into a castle and finding nothing but plain farmhouse furniture, wooden plates and bowls and one small box of brass jewellery. Somehow he'd assumed that such impressive defences must contain something worth stealing, but apparently not; just the ordinary thoughts of a commonplace young mind, and a great deal of rather nebulous infatuation.

'I know what you mean,' he mumbled sleepily.

She rolled over towards him and laid her hand on his chest; he found the intrusion annoying, but put up with it. 'Suddenly I felt like I really knew you,' she went on, 'all of you, like you'd taken the clothes off your soul and I could see it, all bare.'

'You liked what you saw'

'Oh yes.' Somehow he doubted that. If she'd seen anything, it must have been what she wanted to see. He'd never really given his soul much thought, but he had a pretty shrewd idea that if she'd really seen it, she wouldn't be lying next to him purring like an overfed cat. She'd be halfway back to her father's house, and still running. 'Is it like this for everybody, do you know?' she asked. 'Or is it something special, just for you and me?'

'I don't know, I'd have to ask everybody. And that'd take a while.'

'Silly. My guess is that it's a bit like this, but for us it's something really special. I love you,' she added, sounding like a monk reciting a prayer; a formal phrase, constantly reiterated, encapsulating a great deal of scripture.

'I love you too,' he replied, wondering how long it'd take her to get to sleep. He made a rule of trying to be as accommodating as he could in such circumstances, but he never could see the point in this sort of aimless chatter at this stage of the proceedings. How nice it would have been, he thought wistfully, if he'd managed to get one who'd just shut up and go to sleep.

'I was thinking,' she went on. 'When Daddy gets back from the city, it'd be nice if we could go and visit, just for a day or so.' She paused, a little too self-consciously to carry conviction. 'You know, I'm sure that if you two really got to know each other-'

He smiled, safe in the darkness, and made a vaguely disapproving noise.

'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I'm being selfish; and of course I haven't forgiven him for what he said to you.'

'It's all right,' he replied, the perfect self-denying martyr, ready to overlook anything for his true love's sake. 'It doesn't bother me any more, really. I was just thinking, do we really need all those other people round us? There's sure to be a big crowd at your father's place.'

She sighed. 'Probably,' she said. 'There usually is.'

'Especially now,' he went on, gentle and careful as the crow glided down onto the pattern of decoys, 'with the big reconciliation thing, your father and General Cronan. I can't imagine he'd want us there, with all that going on.'

'Oh, he wouldn't mind,' she said, a little too quickly. 'And it'd mean he'd be busy a lot of the time, so we wouldn't be getting under each other's feet. It'd be showing willing more than anything else.'

He couldn't help grinning; she was headed right for the gap in the pattern, the killing zone. He'd learned this basic truth many years ago, in a ploughed field at Haldersness; you can't pull in a crow to the decoys unless it wants to come in. The trick lies in making it want to. 'If you really want to go,' he said, 'I suppose it'd be all right.'

She wriggled over and hugged him; he managed not to wince at the intrusion into his circle. 'That's so sweet of you,' she said-and for a moment he felt really bad about it, because she was young and beautiful and sweet, and he'd thoroughly enjoyed taking her, in spite of it all. But there was no reason for that, no reason why he shouldn't enjoy his work; mostly it was nasty and unpleasant, and the pleasure he usually got from it was definitely not something to be proud of; something relatively peaceful and normal, like making love to a lovely girl, was definitely an improvement on his usual daily round. Besides, he reassured himself, there's more ways of killing a crow than pulling its neck.

'That's all right,' he said, remembering to play up the part (attention to detail at all times). 'After all, I'm part of the family now, it's worth making the effort.' He yawned. Now he'd got what he wanted, he really would like to get some sleep. 'Come on,' he said, 'snuggle up.' He reached round and started stroking the small of her back, which never failed to put her to sleep. 'Busy day tomorrow,' he added, more to himself than to her. 'With any luck, we'll get the rest of the usable lumber off the old barn, and then we can make a start on the new one.'

She grunted sleepily, while he thought, What was all that about? What old barn? And then he remembered-breaking up the old barn at Colscegsford after the heavy snow caved in the roof, all those years ago. What had put that into his head all of a sudden, he wondered; then he remembered that, too. Same moment, same half-lucid interval between waking and sleep, different girl. Very different girl, but somehow the moment was always the same. He was pleased with himself for thinking that.