"I regret that I cause you pain." He lowered his eyes.
"You do not regret it sharply enough." But her gaze kindled with mischief again.
Suddenly, I understood. "He intrigues, doesn't he? The only man who has ever resisted your blandishments."
"The fool!" Frisson moaned.
"Oh, there do be some few others." The words were ashes in her mouth. "There was a man with a strange gleam in his eye, who turned upon me and beat me till I fled; I found him quick passage on a ship I summoned by storm. And there was another monk, a friar in a white robe, who declared me to be a devil, a succubus, and sought to banish me by long and hateful verses. This island was a miserable and barren place while he lived."
I thought about asking how long that had been and how he had died, then thought better of it.
Friar Ignatius was shaking his head and muttering. "I could never do such a thing, no! Nay, she is a good woman, a sweet woman, and I confess to great fondness for her."
"But not so great as to surrender to lust," she said, with a sardonic smile. "What is this new emotion you have kindled in me, monk? For I have never before laughed at mine own downfall."
"Frustrating," I said, "isn't it?"
"He chafes me no end," she agreed, "yet not as I would wish. Therefore shall I keep him here in my bower, until he gives in to his feelings, surrenders to sweet sensation - for if he does, he will fall fully in love with me, abjuring his vocation and even his religion."
"Since the one follows the other," I murmured. "Just can't resist a challenge, can you? Isn't a temporary lapse into sin good enough for you?"
Thyme shrugged, which set up secondary wave effects that were entirely too harmonious. "When first he came here, mayhap - yet now, my pride is affronted. I must have his total, abject devotion."
"You have it! 'Tis yours!" Frisson exclaimed, his eyes burning. She glanced at him with a flicker of long lashes and a lazy smile.
"Many thanks, man of song; yet 'tis he who has pricked my pride, not yourself. Nay, I must become the most important object in his life, or feel myself to be a woman of no worth."
"But you are! You are sweet and kind!" Friar Ignatius almost put his hand on hers, but held it back just in time.
"Sweetness of temper is the least I offer you," she returned, "and the kindness of your taking is not the kind I would receive."
"He got under your skin right from the beginning, didn't he?" I said.
"Aye, but only in metaphor, more's the pity. Oh, he was but a mild diversion to me at first, naught but another shipwrecked man; in truth, he was least and last - least of interest to me, and last of all his shipmates, the captain and crew. Yet when I had done with them and sent them on their way to deflower maidens no more-"
"You destroyed their desire?" I stared, eyes wide.
She gave me a cynical smile. "Know, poor male, that the fulfillment of your fantasies would end them."
I wondered just what she had done to those sailors. Had they been so thoroughly sated that they could never work up a good case of lust again? Or would real women pale into insignificance, after her?
"Finished with them? What did you do to them?"
"Sent them all packing," she assured me. "My magic repaired their ship; my island replenished their larder. I wished them fair winds and sent them coasting away in their ship, chastened and much less likely to despoil women."
Of course, they might also go on a campaign of rape to re-prove their masculinity to themselves, but I didn't think Thyme had considered that. in fact, I didn't think she considered anything about anyone but herself. "Then you found Friar Ignatius wasn't willing."
"Aye," she said with bitter resignation. "Him, I could not seduce, and that made him a thing of fascination to me. So when I bade his fellows farewell, I kept him here, to amuse me - yet I've found naught of amusement, and less of satisfaction."
"And never will, I fear." Friar Ignatius sighed. "My regrets, sweet one. "
"But you rose to the challenge," I interpreted.
"Aye," Thyme said, "and would warrant that he did, too, though he allows me no proof of it."
I understood. She'd had supreme confidence in her femininity, in her limited way - but that limitation covered a deep insecurity; it was only a bubble. Friar Ignatius had punctured that bubble by his refusal and had become an affront to her self-esteem. The only way to rebuild her self-image as the ultimate femme fatale, was to seduce him - and since he wouldn't seduce, she was thinking less and less of herself every day.
He had a great technique for saying "no," though. Any woman but a nymph would have felt immensely flattered and been willing to give up. But she was a nymph, and the real thing, too. I shook my head sadly. "I hate to be discouraging, but I'm afraid you're doomed to disappointment."
"I will never give in till he does!" she declared.
"Your tenacity is laudable," I said, "but your judgment is lacking."
I hoped. "Either way, I'm afraid I really can't afford to give you the chance to prove your point, or his; I need his help."
"I shall the'er let my true love depart!" she cried.
"But you will," I said softly, "because I'm a wizard - remember?" Her eyes narrowed; she surged to her feet, throwing her head back and arms up, as if to embrace the sky. The sight was breathtaking, but I was braced for a move like that, so it didn't quite drive the verses from my head.
Thyme froze, then slowly lowered her arms and her gaze, to regard me with disgust and loathing. "Speak, then." Her voice was choked with tears. "I must obey."
"I bid you give this monk your leave to go."
"Why, so I must," she said with infinite reluctance, and turned to Friar Ignatius. "I am constrained; therefore you are not. You are free to go!
Relief and joy flooded his face. She saw, and her own filled with hurt. Friar Ignatius leapt up with a cry of pity. "Poor wanton! Ah, I could wish I had not taken holy vows, that I might indulge my base desires with you! I am a man sworn to God and chastity; yet still my heart will ache for sight of thee!"
The hurt lessened in her face.
He caught her hand, eyes lit with fervor. "Never will I forget these sweet days, nor the hours of delight in your company! Nay, every minute near to you has been pleasure so sweet as to be almost pain, and I thank you mightily for this taste of bliss! Never will I forget you; ever will I treasure the memories of these months!" The hurt was almost gone now, but there was an aching longing welling up in her; she could not take her eyes from his face. He forced his own gaze away. "Wizard! Can you not lessen her hurt? Can you not give her sweet nepenthe?"
"Forgetfulness?" Yes, out of sheer pity, I could certainly do that much. Besides, I couldn't have her menacing shipping and sailors, trying to restore her wounded vanity. I turned to Frisson. "How about it, Fr-oh."
Frisson's face was so heavy with lugubriousness that he looked like a bloodhound. His eyes were huge and bloodshot, transfixed on Thyme.
"No, I think I'd better try to manage something myself." I turned back to the ill-sorted couple, remembered my evenings in the coffeehouses, and dredged up an old folk song: