"There is one more matter that I am commanded to discuss. It is known that you have signed all the outlanders"--and here he turned to look at Ikawa and Mark--"to contracts in your service. It is further known that several have left you and are now on the rolls as Unta."

Mark glanced over at Ikawa and knew his friend was as pierced as he was by the knowledge that two of their party were now known as unspeakable and without honor for breaking their contracts. He turned to see Allic shaking his head at them, as if to say, the dishonor was not yours.

"Yes, it is so," Allic told Traca.

"Then let me inform you that Boreas wishes to buy the contract of the one called Giorgini."

There were gasps around the table, but Allic's face was expressionless.

"I'm sure you realize the implications of your last statement, messenger."

"Yes."

"What is your offer?"

"One wall crystal."

"A wall crystal for a contract that has a little over two years left? Most impressive."

Allic then turned to Mark.

"Mark, he was one of yours. What is your counsel?"

"I don't really understand all of this," Mark said hesitantly, "but if there is a chance to give Giorgini a way to redeem himself I'd say yes."

Allic turned back to Traca. "Inform your lord that I accept."

Traca nodded. "The wall crystal will be delivered in two days. With your permission I will wait until then to take possession of the contract."

With Allic's nod of acceptance, Traca turned again to Mark.

"Know, young sorcerer, that your man Giorgini was on his way back to you when he, uh, was delayed.

It is my lord's intention to put his name back on the rolls."

Allic rapped the table with his mug, and with a calm voice that belied the anger on his face said, "Unnecessary, Traca. As of this moment I have ordered Giorgini's name restored to the rolls. Now, unless you have further business to discuss, you are excused from my presence."

Traca bowed and left.

"Would someone please explain to me what is going on about Giorgini?"

Ikawa was the first to answer.

"Either Boreas or one of his people has Giorgini, and they find him valuable. The key point here is when they got him."

Varma glanced at Allic. "The manner in which the contract was offered, and the excessive price, points to a border violation. In my opinion Boreas himself flew here as soon as he knew that Sarnak had broken the Sacred Truce. Boreas would give almost anything for the chance to kill Sarnak himself. He probably got here too late for Sarnak and took Giorgini instead, to get information."

Allic stirred at that. "Yes, that is how I see it. The wall crystal is a very subtle way of apologizing for intrusion and interference."

"Does that mean Giorgini is a prisoner?" asked Mark.

Allic glanced at Varma, who responded, "I'd guess not. The offer for the contract was straightforward."

Allic straightened. "Agreed. Giorgini has obviously offered to serve Boreas. Maybe without Younger's influence he will serve him as well as you have served me. Now let's call it a night. We leave for Asmara at first light tomorrow."

"I must have been dreaming," Imada whispered, looking up into her eyes.

"Just the bad dream, my lover," Vena replied, a gentle smile lighting her innocent features. "I heard you cry out."

Imada stirred and tried to sit up, but the lightheadedness returned. Languidly, he laid back down.

The world was such a kaleidoscope of colors, of drifting images, phantasms that could be real or just imagined. But he did not even care to find out if they were real or not. One should not question this quiet paradise of love.

The bad dream again. Funny, he could barely recall it now. He could still remember his friends, the captain who had always treated him with kindness, even Sergeant Saito, who bellowed like a bull, but was more like an older brother. Even the Americans, Jose and Kraut. He had never wanted to be a soldier, the thought of killing anyone had been so repugnant. And the Americans had proven to be not such bad fellows after all. Yes, he could remember them, and the vague desire to return to them. He must report to his friends, but what was it he was supposed to tell them?

Something had happened to him. Something horrible. He looked into Vena's eyes. Something had happened--but what was it?

"Can you remember your dream?" she asked, her brow knitted.

Had he been swimming? No, no, it had been next to a river, hadn't it?

Leaning over, her lips lightly brushed his.

Was that part of the nightmare as well? Yet even as he wondered, he could feel the first tingle of passion as the kiss became bolder.

A hushed moan of pleasure escaped her. Sitting up, she undid the shoulder clasp of her lavender and silver-laced gown. The gown slipped away, tumbling to her waist. Reaching to her side, she snapped loose the hip clasp and the gown fell away.

Smiling she brushed back her amber curls to expose the beauty of her breasts.

Still feeling lightheaded, but this time from the joy within him, Imada sat up as Vena pulled back the covers of his bed.

Together they fell back, now joined as one, their passion rising together, then ever so dreamily falling away.

Floating in a lovers' embrace, Imada opened his eyes. She lay beside him, her eyes sparkling with love.

"Without you I would be nothing," she sighed. "Don't ever leave me."

Imada pulled her close, and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"Can you remember the fight, my love?" Her innocent features were aglow with admiration.

The fight? Yes--that was the nightmare. The party had been on patrol when Sarnak's demons had attacked. It had been a horrific siege, pinned down in a glade with no protection. One by one his comrades had fallen. Throughout that long night he had heard their cries as they were dragged off into the darkness to be tortured and killed.

Numbed, he had waited for the coming of morning and certain death, hiding by the river bank, wounded and waiting for the end. Somehow he could remember Yoshida's screams of agony.

Imada tried to block that memory. He had been struggling. It was in the water, wasn't it? Yes, in the water wrestling with a demon. That was it. The demon had pounced on him, and they were struggling in the water when Yoshida had cried out. What had happened to that demon? He must have killed it, otherwise he would now be dead.

With the rising of the sun he had found himself alone, the only survivor of the patrol, in the smoking ruins of the glade, with bodies scattered everywhere. And the enemy was gone.

He must have been in shock, he thought. What did the Americans call it? Combat fatigue. He had wandered, lost.

Lost until the dark smoke on the horizon told him of trouble. The sight of the demons circling the burning village had been the trigger to his rage at what had been done.

He looked back at Vena.

"You're thinking of the battle, aren't you, my love?"

Imada nodded.

"I'll always remember how you came to me," she said, her doelike eyes gazing into his.

"The demons had attacked just after dawn," she whispered, as if reciting a shared memory. "They must have been the same ones that attacked you the night before. We fought as best we could. Everything, everything was destroyed. My home, my friends, and my father." Tears began to fill her eyes.

"Don't cry, dearest," Imada whispered, kissing her tears away.

"Father was ill already," she said, trying to force a smile. "He had been a warrior under our lord Allic. He had always said he wished to die sword in hand, facing the enemy, and not wasted and old. He died as he wished, slaying the demon that killed him, singing his death song. It was as he desired, and for him I should be happy."

"I was ready to die," she went on grimly. "And then I saw you flying in like an avenger borne on the wind, descending out of the sun, flame arching from your hand, your battle cry like thunder."

"Oh, how they fled before your rage," she said excitedly. "I thought first that perhaps you must be a god.

Sometimes I still believe that."

Imada blushed at the open admiration in her innocent eyes.

She giggled softly. "Forgive me; I do love you so. I dream of the day I can tell our grandchildren how you came thus to save me."

Imada laughed and hugged her. Never would they be separated! "It's still kind of hard to remember it all."

She paused for a moment, looking at him with concern. "You do remember most of it, though, don't you?"

"You're helping me to," he replied with a smile.

"You fought your way to me. A demon slashed you here." She pointed to the furled scar on his shoulder.

"Yet still you came for me. And picking me up, you flew off. They chased us here, into the mountains, until you finally lost them. Only then did you finally collapse, near the edge of death from your wounds, which were poisoned."

"I knew of this cave. Being on the border marches, Father had prepared this place if there was an emergency. Even as a child, I could have found this place blindfolded. He had thought of everything, hiding bedding, clothes, weapons, and food, if ever we should have need of a place to hide. And so I carried you here after your collapse and brought you back to health."

A look of concern washed over her.

"And now you seem to be healed and ready to travel once again."

"We'll always be one," he murmured.

"But you must go back to your friends, and to our lord Allic."

Yes, that was his name: Allic. Now the memory seemed so much clearer. Allic was his daimyo, his warlord, and he must obey as a samurai. There was actually a moment of pleasure in that realization. He was a samurai of Allic's. In his own world he had never wanted to be a soldier, but as a child he had thrilled with the legendary heroes of the civil wars, and the struggle for the Shogunate. Now he had powers surpassing even those of Norgunata or the forty-seven ronin. He had his duty.

Yet there was Vena.

"You can fly back with me to Landra. As I saved your life, so you saved mine. Nothing will ever keep us apart. I could not live without you."

"You seem so much stronger already, even as you talk about it," Vena said. "Think how excited your friends will be to see you. You've been gone nearly four months, my love."

"Four months!"

Startled, he sat straight up, looking anxiously around.

"The demon's poison worked deep into your soul," Vena said soothingly, sitting up alongside him. "You did not even stir until several weeks back. It took all the skill I had to bring you back to me."

How could this be? Imada wondered. They must think him dead, a prisoner, or even a deserter and coward.

"I have to get back," he said anxiously.

"Another day or two at most," Vena said.

"At least let me get up and walk about outside."

"No, my love," Vena said soothingly. "The demons know that you are hiding someplace in these hills.

They have not stopped searching. I have snuck out at dusk to gather herbs for your broth, and every time I leave I can see them circling. You are still a bit shaky, you could make a mistake out there and be seen.

You see, my dear, you might have the power of a god, but my father taught me woodcraft, and I think I know a bit more about such things than you."

Her voice filled with a note of pride as she spoke. Smiling, Imada found he could not argue with her.

"And speaking of broth, I've made some for you." As she left his bed, the fire's glow cast its light on her long legs and taut, rounded body. Her hair swayed provocatively as she walked across the room toward a small cauldron. She scooped out a greenish foam into a wood bowl and brought it back to him.

Playfully, he reached out to her, his arms encircling her waist as she sat down.

"My, you certainly are regaining your strength. But drink this first. It's good for you and will drive out any nightmares you might still have."

Leaning over, she brought the bowl to his lips. The drink was pungent, with a faint bitterness that made him wrinkle his nose.

Even before he had finished, the kaleidoscope of colors returned, washing over him like the lapping of waves upon the beach.

He looked up into Vena's eyes, which looked at him with a knowing gaze.

"When you wake up," she whispered, "you'll feel strong enough to travel. In fact you will find yourself already on the way home."

He could barely see her now.

"We'll always love each other, won't we, Imada?"

He tried to nod but he wasn't even sure anymore if he could move.