'You are saying I should feel flattered?"

'Did you not?' countered the baker, a twinkle in his eye.

'She is very beautiful. I watched her make a dive into Ironhand's pool and it took the breath away. I have always spurned those I thought to be whores. Now I am beginning to regret my decision.'

'You may never get another chance, boy.'

'We will see."

The sandy-haired young man sat with his head in his hands, his eyes bleary with drink. Before him was a half-empty tankard. Ballistar climbed to the bench seat and then perched his small body at the edge of the table. 'Getting drunk won't solve anything, Bernt,' he said.

'She doesn't want to see me,' said Bernt. 'She says she will neversee me again.' He looked across at the dwarf. 'I didn't mean to do it, Balli. I got excited. I wouldn't have hurt Lady, not for all the world. I just wasn't thinking. I was watching Sigarni. She looked so beautiful in the morning sunlight. So beautiful.' The young man drained the tankard and belched. Ballistar looked at him - the square face, the deep-set blue eyes, the powerful neck and broad shoulders - and knew envy.

All that height wasted on a dullard like Bernt. Ballistar felt guilty at the thought, for he liked the young man. True, Bernt was not bright, yet he had a warmth and a compassion lacking in other, more intelligent men. In truth he was a sensitive soul.

'I think,' said the dwarf, 'that you should just lie low for a while. Lady is almost healed and she is hunting well. Wait for a little while, then go out and see Sigarni again. I expect she'll relent. You were always good for her.'

'Was. That's the word, isn't it? Was. I could never talk to her, you know. Didn't understand much of what she said. It all flew over my head. I didn't care, Balli. I was just happy to be with her. To ... love her. I think all she needed from me was my body.' He laughed nervously and looked round to see if anyone was listening, but the two other drinkers in the tavern were sitting by the fire, talking in low tones. 'That's what she told me,' he continued.' "Bernt," she said, "this is your only skill." She said I took away all her tension. She was wrong, though, Balli. It's not my only skill. I was there for her. She couldn't see that. I don't know what I'm going to do!'

'There are other women,' said Ballistar softly. 'You are a good young man, strong, honest. You have a great deal to offer.'

'I don't want anyone else, Balli. I don't. All my waking moments are rilled with thoughts of her. And when I sleep I dream of her. I never asked for anything, you know. I never ... made demands. She didn't ever let me sleep in the bed, you know... afterwards. I always had to go home. It didn't matter what the weather was like. Once I even went home in a blizzard. Got lost, almost died. Almost died ...' His voice 3.

faded away, and he bit his lip. 'She didn't care, not really. I always thought that I would, sort of grow on her. That she would realize I was ... important. But I'm not important, am I? I'm just a cattle-herder.'

The dwarf shifted uneasily. 'As I said, Bernt, you should give her a little time. I know she likes you.'

'Has she spoken of me?' asked the young man, his eyes eager, his ears hungry for words of encouragement.

Ballistar looked away. 'I can tell, that's all. She's still angry, but underneath .. .

just give it time.'

'She didn't say anything, did she, Balli? Except maybe that I was a fool.'

'She's still angry. Go home. Get something to eat.'

The young man smiled suddenly. 'Will you do something for me, Balli? Will you?'

'Of course,' answered the dwarf.

'Will you go to her and ask her to meet me at the old oak grove tonight, an hour after dark?'

'She won't come - you know that! And she doesn't keep clock candles, she has no use for them.'

'Well, soon after dusk then. But will you ask her? Tell her that it is so important to me. Even if she only conies to say goodbye. Will you tell her that? Will you?

Tell her I have never asked for anything save this one time.'

'I'll go to her, Bernt. But you are only building up more pain for yourself.'

'Thank you, Balli. I'll take your advice now. I'll go home and eat.'

The young man levered himself up, staggered, grinned inanely and lurched from the tavern. Ballistar clambered down from the table and followed him.

It was a long walk on tiny legs to Sigarni's cabin, more than two hours. And it was such a waste, thought Ballistar.

The afternoon was warm, but a gentle breeze was blowing over High Druin as the dwarf ambled on. He walked for an hour, then sat for a while on a hillside resting his tired legs. In the distance he could see a walker heading off towards the higher hills. The man wore a leaf-green cloak and carried a long staff; Ballistar squinted, but could not reconize him. He was heading towards Gwalch's cabin. Ballistar chuckled. He wouldn't be walking that straight when he left!

Rising once more, he set off down the slope and along the deer trails to Sigarni's cabin. He found her sitting by the front door, cutting new flying jesses from strips of leather. Lady was nowhere to be seen, but Abby was sitting on her bow perch. She flapped her wings and pranced as she saw Ballistar. The dwarf gave a low bow to the bird. 'It is good to see you as well, Abby.'

'Just in time,' said Sigarni. 'You can make some herb tea. Somehow I never make it taste as good as yours.'

'My pleasure, princess.'

Ballistar climbed the steps and entered the cabin. An old iron kettle was hissing steam over the fire. Taking a cloth to protect his hands, he lifted it clear. In the back room he found the packs of dried herbs he and Sigarni had gathered in the spring. Mixing them by eye, he added hot water and cut a large portion of crystallized honey, which he dropped into the mixture. He stirred the tea with a long wooden spoon and sat quietly while it brewed. How to tackle Sigarni? How to convince the silver-haired huntress to meet the boy?

After several minutes he filled two large pottery cups with tea and carried them out into the afternoon sunlight. Sigarni took the first and sipped it. 'How do you make it taste like this?' she asked.

'Talent,' he assured her. 'Now, are you going to ask me why I have walked all this way?'

'I assume it was because you felt in need of my company.'

'Under normal circumstances that would be true, princess. But not today. I have a favour to ask.'

'Ask it - and I'll consider it,' she said.

'I was hoping for a little more than that,' he admitted.

'Just ask,' she said, a little coldly.

'I saw Bernt today . ..'

'The answer is no,' she said flatly.

'You don't know the question yet?'

'I can hazard a guess. He wants me to take him back.'

'No! Well.. . yes. But that is not the favour. He asks if you will meet him after dusk at the old oak grove. Even if it is only to say goodbye. He said it was vital to him.'

'I have already said goodbye.' Returning her attention to the leather jesses, she said nothing more.

Ballistar sighed. 'He also said that he had never asked you for anything - save this once.'

She looked up and he braced himself for her anger. But her words were spoken coldly, and without emotion. 'I owe him nothing. I owe you nothing. I owe no one. You understand? I did not ask him to love me, nor to follow me like a dog. He was an adequate lover, no more than that. And now he is part of my past. He has no place in the present. Is that clear?'

'Oh, it is clear, princess. Callous, unkind, unfeeling. But very dear. And of course it would be so time-consuming for you to walk to the oak grove. After all, it is more than a mile from here."

She leaned back and looked into his face. 'Now we are both angry, little man. And for what? Bernt is a dolt. I have no need of fools around me. But, since it is a favour to you, I shall grant it. I shall go to Bernt, and I shall tell him goodbye.

Does that satisfy you?'

He grinned and nodded. 'And as a reward I shall prepare you a meal. What provisions do you have?'

'Abby killed a duck this morning.'

'I shall cook it with a berry sauce,' he said.

They ate well, the duck being young and plump. Ballister cooked it to perfection; the skin was crisp and dark, the flesh moist, the red berry sauce complementing the flavour. Sigarni pushed aside her plate and licked her fingers. 'If I had an ounce of common sense I'd marry you,' she told the dwarf. 'I never knew a man who could make food taste so fine.'

Ballistar was sitting in the hide chair, his little legs jutting out. He nodded sagely.

'Well,' he said, at last, 'you could ask me. But I would only say no.'

Sigarni smiled. 'Not good enough for you, dwarf?' 'Too good, probably. Though that is not the reason. There is something about you, Sigarni. Like the Crown of Alwen - all men can see it, but none can touch it.'

'Nonsense. Men can touch me. I like men to touch me.' 'No, you don't,' he argued.

'I don't think you have ever allowed a man to touch your heart. No man has ever opened the window of your soul.'

She laughed at him then. 'The heart is a pump for moving blood around the body, and as to the soul... what is that exactly?' She held up her hand. 'No, don't try to explain it. Let it lie. The meal was too fine to finish on an argument. And you had better go, or you'll be walking back in the dark.'

33.

The dwarf scrambled down from the chair, and gathered up the plates. 'Leave them,' said Sigarni. 'Be off with you, Ballistar. I have a need to be alone.'

'Don't be too hard on Bernt,' said Ballistar, from the doorway.

'I'll treat him like an injured puppy,' she promised.

After the dwarf had gone Sigarni cleaned the plates and built up the fire. She did not relish seeing the young cattle-herder, for she was determined never to renew their relationship. It was not that he was a poor lover, nor even that he was dull.

In the early days, last autumn, she had enjoyed his quiet company. However, during the spring he had become like a weight around her neck, following her everywhere, declaring his love, sitting and staring at her, begging for love like a dog begs for scraps. She shuddered. Why could he not enjoy what they had? Why did he need more than she was prepared to give? Idiot!

Pouring herself a goblet of honey mead from a flagon that Gwalch had given her, she moved to the doorway and sat down beside Lady. The hound looked up, but did not move. Idly Sigarni stroked the soft fur behind the beast's ears. Lady lay still, enjoying the sensation for several minutes, then her head came up and she stared intently towards the tree line. 'What is it girl?' whispered Sigarni.

As horse and rider emerged from the trees, Sigarni swore softly. It was Asmidir.

He was dressed now in clothes of black and riding a tall black gelding. His burnoose of black silk was held in place by a dark band of leather, with an opal set at the centre. The horse advanced into the yard. Abby spread her wings and let out a screech on her bow perch. Lady merely stood, alert and waiting.

'Come to see your whore?' asked Sigarni as the black man rode up. He smiled amiably, then dismounted. Draping the reins over the gelding's head, he climbed the three steps to the porch.

'You are too prickly, Sigarni. I need to speak with you. Shall we go inside? Your northern weather plays havoc with my equatorial bones.'

'I'm not sure you are welcome,' she told him, rising to stand before him in the doorway.

'Ah, but I am, for friends are rare in life, and not to be idly tossed aside. Also I can see from your eyes that you are pleased to see me, and I sense in you a tension only sex will resolve. Am I at fault in any of these observations?'

'Not so far,' she agreed, stepping aside and ushering him into the room. Once inside he stopped and sniffed.

34.

'You have been having a feast,' he said, nostrils flaring. 'The aroma makes my mouth water. Duck, was it?!

'Yes. Ballistar cooked it for me. Now he is a true sorcerer when it comes to food.

You should employ him.'

'I'll think on it,' he said, removing his cloak and laying it over the back of the chair. Sitting down by the fire he sat for a moment in silence staring into the flames. Sigarni sat on his lap, leaning to kiss his cheek.

'I'm glad you came,' she said. Reaching up, he ran his fingers through her silver hair and drew her close. Pushing one arm under her thighs, he stood and carried her through to the back bedroom.

For more than an hour they made love but, skilled as he was, Sigarni could feel a different tension within him. After her second orgasm she stopped him, pushing him gently to his back. 'What is wrong, my friend?' she asked him, rising up on her elbow and stroking the sleek dark skin of his chest. He closed his eyes.

'Everything,' he said. He reached for her, but she resisted him.

'Tell me,' she commanded.

'I would have thought,' he said, forcing a smile, 'that you would have the good grace to let me achieve my own climax before entering into a dialogue.'

She chuckled and bit his ear. 'Then be quick!' she told him, 'for I have other matters to attend to.'

'Your wish shall be obeyed, mistress!' he said, rolling over and pinning her shoulders.

Sigarni felt loose-limbed and wonderfully relaxed as she sat by the fire and sipped her mead. Relaxed in the chair, Asmidir sat naked, save for his cloak, which he had wrapped about his shoulders against the draught from the warped wood of the door.

'Now tell me,' she said.

'There is a war coming,' he told her.

'Where?'

'Here, Sigarni. I was at the Citadel a few days ago. I saw the mercenaries arriving, and I know the Baron is studying maps of all the lands around High Druin. It is my belief that he intends to bring an army into the mountains.'

'That cannot be,' she said. 'There is no one to fight him.'