The guest quarters of the Sheriff?s house were in a part that was all built post-Change, of honest brick and stone and timber; there were plenty of rooms, since a wealthy landholder and leader had to be able to extend hospitality to many. All the travelers who weren?t paired had one to themselves, with empty space besides in between for their gear; his was a story up and around a ninety-degree turn that put him in a different wing. They were all grateful, good friends as they mostly were, privacy and quiet had been in short supply for most of their trip.
He stopped suddenly as he came close; there was a leak of candlelight under the door, and he certainly hadn?t left one lit when he went down to dinner-nobody played carelessly with naked flame, if they had any sense at all.
So someone is waiting for me, he thought. Now, isn?t that interesting?
Right now he?d almost welcome a fight. There was no sword at his belt, but he did have his dirk; the ten inches of double-edged killing steel slid into his hand, and he approached with a lightness that most found surprising in a man his size. Some had found it a fatal surprise, and not a floorboard creaked as he ghosted along the edge of the wall where that was least likely. He extended one hand to the knob and then paused.
Assassins didn?t usually start to sing as they lay in wait for you, not even very faint and sweet. Like a wisp of melody heard beneath the trees on a spring night that you could scarcely hear and might have imagined. It was a song he recognized too: not precisely a hymn, not quite, but a favorite of his people from their beginnings, and among the witch-folk before. ?So we?ll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.?
Almost without his own will he answered, as quietly: ?For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself must rest!?
Their voices joined as he opened the door: ?For the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon;
Yet we?ll go no more a-roving,
By the light of the moon!?
The figure lying on his bed didn?t seem to be a threat; she didn?t look in a mood to fight at all, and the complete lack of clothing was only the first indication. The smile was another; it was Samantha Steward, the housekeeper. He?d thought her a handsome figure of a woman before, lush but taut, with large gray eyes, straight features and long hair so pale it looked white in the candlelight; now he swallowed abruptly to see that mane flung across the brown linen of the sheet and pillowcase.
She made a sign with her fingers; he answered it automatically. Then his own eyes went wider than they?d been already. ?And you?re of the Old Religion too?? he said. ?Yah,? she replied.?My mom was, in Madison before the Change, and I was only two when she came here at the Change. There?s some of us around here, a couple of dozen within a day?s ride. We?ve heard of the Witch-Queen of the West… and you?re her son!?
Well, and I wasn?t expecting it to be that sort of an advantage, not this far from home! he thought, dazed.
The dirk suddenly embarrassed him, and he sheathed it.?Ah… you?ve not come to discuss religion, I?d surmise, so??
Her smile grew broader.?What?s more reverent than this?? she said, extending her arms.?All acts of love and pleasure are My rituals.?
Rudi laughed over the blood pounding in his ears.?Oh, now the Powers will have their little jokes with us, lady.?
He bowed elaborately.?You are most fair, priestess of Her who blesses us with the joining of spear and cauldron, and my blood leaps at the sight of you, that it does. Nor would I decline the offer to worship Her with you lightly. But of my own will I have taken upon myself a geasa that will not allow it, so.?
She looked at him, and the smile died. His own grew rueful and he spread his hands, bowing again. ?By Raven who chose me in the nemed, I swear it; may She forsake me if I lie.? ?Hmmpf!? she said, rolling off the bed and dressing in a long shift, with movements brisk rather than languorous.
Then, when she was clothed, she shrugged. He could see her let anger go as she spoke. ?I?m sorry. That was… well, I should have checked, first. The Catholic girl, I suppose? Some of my best friends are Christians, but-? ?We?re betrothed,? Rudi said. As of five minutes ago, curse the luck! ?Oh, I am sorry!? she said, obviously embarrassed. ?No apology needed! As I said, were things otherwise… I appreciate the compliment, that I do, most sincerely.? ?Well, if we can?t worship the Goddess together that way, there?s a favor I would like.? ?Ask and you shall receive, fair one!? he said. ?You?re an Initiate, of course?? ?Of the third degree; red, white and black are the cords.? ?Good! We?re having a Sabbat, and I wondered-?
The discussion grew technical. At the last he nodded. ?That will be a fine rite. Not exactly as my folk would conduct it-? ?Nor exactly as our coven does,? Samantha said.?I like some of the things you tell me about Lady Juniper?s way.? ?But it feels right to combine them, so.? Rudi grinned.?My mother is wont to say that she?s not the Pope-ess of the Pagans, when others take her word too easily. For Gospel, so to speak!?
Samantha chuckled, and then her voice grew wistfuclass="underline" ?I wish I could meet her. It must be wonderful, where the Old Religion can be so… so open.? ?That it is; but it?s like the air-you have to do without for a while to see the value of the thing!?
She laughed, a long uninhibited peal, and he joined her. ?I?ll be happy to run a Moon School for your… Southsiders, they?re called? Sheriff Vogeler won?t mind, as long as we?re… discreet. He?s known about us for all my life, after all, and about mother. He?s really a gruff old bear, but he?s not a bad man. Not a busybody either, not like some I could name.? ?My thanks for that, too. It?s needful, but I have no time for it. They?re a rough tribe, untutored, but good-hearted for the most part. Yet they?re barren of things of the Otherworld to a degree I?d not have believed. And where a void exists-? ? Something will come to fill it,? she said, making a protective sign.?I?ll leave you to your sleep then.?
Rudi nodded. Precious little sleep I?ll be getting, he thought.
He showed her to the door, and bowed gracefully over her hand. ?A fond farewell-and skyclad, lady priestess, you are even fairer than one would guess from the comely sight of you clad.?
She tweaked his nose with a chuckle and blew out the candle as she turned to go. ?I don?t believe it!? Mathilda Arminger hissed to herself, her head only a handspan above the top tread of the stairs.
She?d heard the voices and the laughter, but?I don?t-I won?t-?
Her voice choked on tears as she fled for the safety of her room.
TheSwordoftheLady
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
O dard was strumming at his lute and reciting-perhaps trying out a tune to fit the words; he was a part-time troubadour, after all. Mathilda paused outside the window to listen for a moment, with the crisp leaves crunching beneath her feet. ?The hour the grey wings pass
Beyond the mountains
The hour of silence,
When we hear the fountains,
The hour that dreams are brighter
And winds colder,
The hour that young love wakes
On a white shoulder,
Master of the world, the Persian Dawn!
That hour, O Master, shall be bright for thee:
Thy captains chase the morning down the sea!?
She shook her head and smiled and passed on. Odard tried so hard to be a worldly cynic, and then sometimes he spoiled months of labor with a single unguarded moment. It was then she remembered she was three or four years older than he. ?Though I?m really snooping,? she murmured to herself, and walked on.?But you know, Odard, you?re much more likeable when you?re not trying.?