"I'll track him down," the woman said, "eventually."

"That was my plan also."

"Mmhm. And what sort of business do you have to do?"

Dewar had not noticed: while her left hand stroked the feathers, the right had brought the c.o.c.ked crossbow to bear on him. "We met recently, under flurried circ.u.mstances, and parted inconclusively: not on good terms or ill, just suddenly. I wish to finish the conversation we had begun, and to understand what our future relationship will be."

"Mmhm," she said again, her eyes on his. "You're not exactly lying," she said after a moment, "but you're so full of deceit it's hard to be sure."

"I mean him no harm, no injury. I may even be able to speed you to him, if you ally with me for the search."

"You're one of these sorcerers," she said, "of whom I've heard that everything is for sale. Your help wouldn't be free."

"We'd help one another," Dewar said. "I do not engage in commerce."

"Mmhm. I suspect I'd come off short, as I did last time I helped you. You'd be taking care of yourself first."

"So would you, certainly. It's only natural."

"Had I placed myself first the first time we met," she said, slowly cradling the crossbow (glittering starlit steel) in both hands, "I'd have left you with a big pile of food, a barrel of water, and good-luck wishes-before the storm trapped me there."

Dewar looked away, chewing his lip. If she had truly placed herself first when they had first met, he would lie now stiff and cold under a slowly-compacting cover of snow, dreaming unknowing of darkness.

"I'm too soft-hearted," she said, and turned away.

'Elizabeth That's what I've been told, anyway, and I guess it's true," le added, and walked back around the gryphon. The ani-lal crouched.

"Don't go!" he said, as her head and body appeared etween the wings.

"I don't think I want you to help me," she said, "but I'll ;11 him you're looking for him when I find him."

"Do that, then," said Dewar.

She did not reply; the gryphon turned quickly, light on real taloned and clawed feet-how could anything so big y?-and trotted awkwardly, then leapt upward, wings seiz-ig the air and mounting it. Dewar tipped his head back, matching; the gryphon went forward, down, caught a draft, nd he lost it in the night.

Dewar noticed that she had left him her canteen. The nountains were nearly waterless, besides being of barren tone and thin on Leys and firewood. He'd need the canteen o get out of here, which he'd have to do the hard way: on oot.

27.)EWAR, LEANING OVER THE EDGE OF the Well, pulled the nossy bucket up. The frayed rope was iced, and it tried to reeze onto his gloves every time he touched it. But the water fas wet and refreshing and he filled the canteen and drank lowly, relieving his thirst with reverent animal pleasure. It lad been most of a night and a day since he'd drunk; he'd ound no open water on his route to the village, nor even ice o thaw. Where was the snow? There'd been plenty of it in he South all autumn.

The village was deserted. Doorways gaped doorless; shut-ers banged unevenly in the whistling wind. There was no ign of recent inhabitation; as Dewar looked around at the veathered and crumbling houses, he knew no one could lave lived here for some years. Gra.s.s grew on thresholds ind birds' nests were visible in unlikely places. Why aban- Sorcerer and a QentCeman 309.

don a place with a good well in these parts? Ascolet was an odd country. He shrugged and filled the canteen again.

A sound more regular than the flapping of a shutter came to his ears as he drank. Dewar recognized it as hoofbeats, approaching at a fast, purposeful clip. He tightened his belt, capped the canteen, and readied himself for an encounter which could hardly be pleasant in these wild places. Some of Golias's loose mercenaries, most likely.

But only one horseman rode into the square, and he pulled up five or six paces from the well and stared at Dewar. The horse was tired, wheezing and frothing; its sides were blooded from the spurs of the mailed rider, who wore Ascolet livery and a closed helm.

Messenger? wondered Dewar, and waited, ready.

"I challenge you," said the other. "You are a cowardly, sneaking intriguer, and the world will be lighter without your soul."

Dewar looked at the well. "Is this some local custom?" he inquired. There'd been nothing in the Ephemeris about meeting a mortal challenge at this well.

"Eliminating vermin is a universal practice," said the knight.

The voice was familiar, though altered by the helm.

"Who challenges me, then?" Dewar asked, humoring him.

"Ottaviano," said the knight.

Dewar blinked. "Otto? What's your problem?" Perhaps Lunete had told him of Dewar's visit after all.

"Choose your weapon."

"I don't think you're quite-"

"Choose your weapon or be ridden down!" screamed Otto, who had fired himself to a blazing rage during his ride and meant to be rid of Dewar, who had twice now released Prospero, Otto's prisoner and the lynch-pin of Otto's future.

"I have no reason to fight you," Dewar said, bemused, "so-"

Otto spurred his horse, which screamed and leapt forward, exhausted though it was. In less than a second he was 310.

'Llizabetfi 'Wittey on Dewar, and Dewar, astonished, threw himself down, rolled out of the way, and rose and drew. The horse swung around and came back, and Dewar deflected a wide decapitating swing from Otto and then grabbed his wrist and yanked him sideways. Overbalanced, Otto fell, but he drew a dagger as he did and gashed Dewar's arm.

The horse staggered away a few steps. Although being mounted gave him great advantage, Otto did not pursue it and instead went for Dewar again, dagger in one hand and his wide-biaded gold-damascened sword in the other.

Dewar abandoned argument and defended himself, using his cloak to confuse and screen his movements and to foul Otto's dagger blade, which had bitten deep. His forearm ran with blood; he hadn't time to bind it nor to draw on the Well for strength.

A high scream came from overhead. The horse whinnied in rolling-eyed panic and stampeded out of the square down a side street. A shadow pa.s.sed over them, and as it did Otto fell back under a determined attack from Dewar. Dewar wanted to disarm his challenger or wound him enough to stop the fight; he had no intention of dying over jealousy sparked by a woman, which he suspected was the germ of the quarrel here. Lunete, surely, would not have told Otto of their dalliance, and Dewar considered it irrelevant-she had started it, after all-but Otto was edgy and hot-tempered and might have leapt to his own conclusions without evidence.

The shadow had left a musty-smelling draft behind it. With a scrabbling whump the gryphon which had carried Dewar from the castle tower and left him on the hillside landed on the other side of the fountain.

"Stop!" cried the young woman who owned the beast, running toward them. She dove at Otto, dodged his dagger hand, and ducked away as he whirled on her; Dewar, using the opening, struck Otto's sword down. Otto spun back and swung at Dewar again, a wild but strong blow, and yelled in protest as the woman from the gryphon grabbed his cloak and pulled him off-balance.

Dewar laughed at the incongruous sight, a mouse pulling Sorcerer and a Qentteman 311.

a cat's tail. But Otto rounded on her and she cried out as he punched her, his left fist glancing across her face and staggering her, and then the gryphon pounced into the disorderly melee too and knocked him down, taking a nick or two as Otto Hailed and fell.

"Trixie! Stop!" The woman stomped on Otto's left arm and knelt on it, keeping him from stabbing the gryphon.

"Yield, fool!" yelled Dewar to Otto.

Otto cursed the woman up and down her ancestry and then lay still as Dewar lifted his visor so that he gazed straight up at the gryphon's beak. Blood ran from the young woman's nose and spatted on his helm and face.

"What the f.u.c.k is that?" Otto shouted after a moment.

"Trixie," said the woman, breathing hard. "Gryphons don't like people who hurt their riders." She cautiously ma.s.saged her face where he had hit her and wiped tears from her cheeks. "Ouch."

"You get the h.e.l.l out of this fight, and your gryphon can mind its own business," Otto bellowed, red-faced. He scrabbled for his sword, which had fallen from his hand.

"What are you doing here?" Dewar asked her in a low voice, closing Otto's visor again and stepping on his right wrist.

"I ch-changed my m-mind." Her voice quivered. She blotted her nose with a tattered handkerchief.

"So perhaps we may be of use to one another?" Dewar suggested. He took out his own handkerchief and began wrapping up his gashed arm.

"Maybe." She nodded and wiped a few more tears and her nose again.

"Then perhaps we don't need an audience for our negotiations," he said. "This hot fellow," he rapped the helm, "is Ottaviano of Ascolet, who has much to gain from working against what you want. I personally, as I've said, have decided I'm neutral to the whole mess, but-"

Otto yelled something indistinct in his helm.

Dewar hit the helm again. "Shut up, Otto. As I was saying, but I think your concerns are partisan." He smiled pleasantly, holding her gaze with his.

312.

"Therefore, we must dispose of Otto."

"I don't like killing people," she said, "or even ... unless there's a very good reason to do it. Why are you fighting with him?"

"I don't know. I just got here-and I would not have made it this far without your canteen, by the way, for which my thanks-I arrived, drew water, drank, and was set upon without explanation by Otto, who seems to have been on my trail."

She nodded. "Let's tie him up then."

"Hm. He's a journeyman sorcerer. It may take more than that."

She mimed to Dewar: you turn him over, I'll knock him out.

Dewar nodded. "Perhaps he'll listen to reason if we give him a chance," he said.

She picked up a rock from the dilapidated well enclosure. "Trixie, back."

Reluctantly, the gryphon took her foot from Otto's breastplate and torn surcoat and backed away, still watching him fixedly. Otto lunged toward Dewar, and the young woman hit him hard on the back of the head with the rock.

He swayed and fell.

"That was easy," said she, surprised.

"I think he's not used to women putting up a fight." Dewar smiled. "It seems not to be the custom hereabouts." He picked up the dagger Otto had gashed him with and cleaned it on his cloak.

"Swine," she said, standing, nudging Otto with a toe and making a hwoinch-hwoinck noise. "No, not a piggy, not to eat," she added hastily to Trixie, who had lurched forward again. "We'll find you a piggy somewhere else."

"Let's go before he rouses."

She nodded gravely. "Hop up behind me. This is a bad place to fly out of, but we'll manage. Right, Trixie?" She Sorcerer and a QtntUman 313.

was on the gryphon's back already, buckling herself into a saddle of sorts.

"By the way," Dewar said, scrambling onto the surprisingly slippery rust- and gold-colored feathers behind her, "I'm Dewar."

"Hullo. I'm Freia."

"An honor to make your acquaintance, m'lady."

"I'm not your lady or anybody's," she said sharply. "You have to get closer. Right against my back."

Trixie was walking uneasily around the fountain; Dewar pressed hard against Freia's back and felt the gryphon's gait become lighter.

"That's right," Freia said. "Pull in your cloak and get closer."

Dewar pushed his legs against hers, drew his cloak tight around him, and embraced her, cheek at her neck under the steel-and-leather helmet. "Close enough?" Any closer, he thought, and they'd have to get married, "You puke down my neck and you'll fly by yourself," she warned him. "It's where the weight is on her back that matters, you see?" Freia tugged at one of the leather-covered chains which made up the gryphon's tack.

"I see. I've not eaten in a while. Li-uuuups!"

Trixie had gathered herself and bounded up to a rooftop, claws scrabbling, then bounded again, spreading her wings and catching the air. They hung a sickening instant, dropped in an even more sickening one, and then began to rise steadily under power of great swoops of the broad wings. Freia held her in a spiral.

Dewar had closed his eyes, finding the lurching more distressing than he'd expected, despite his empty stomach. They went dizzyingly around and around. He swallowed, breathed slowly; his nose was tickled by a whiff of warm perfume from the shirt collar beside his cheek. Hm. He turned his head and pressed it closer to the sweet scent, distracted from his discomfort.

The air was cold, thin, and dry. The mountains whirled past; he peeked and closed his eyes again. It was, however, 314.

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"Are you all right?" Freia asked him, turning her head a little.

His lips were near her ear. "This is delightful. Oh my word yes."

"This is-" Freia began, but stopped. "Well. I guess we can talk now."

"Yes." Dewar realized that he was gripping his wrists so tightly his hands hurt. He relaxed slightly.

"Hold on tight. There can be lumpy air, places where it goes up and down. I'm in the saddle, but you might bounce," Freia warned him. "Tuck your hands here," she added, and pushed them under her belt.

"What a way to travel," Dewar said, still staring at the mountains, dry-sided and bare-topped. It had been a droughty winter in the East; he wondered if Prospero's cloud-herding Sylph had something to do with that. "Anyway," he said, "yes, let's talk, or if you'd rather land-"

"Two is the load limit, no luggage; Trixie's fine. I've carried someone as big as you before." Freia was guiding the gryphon through a pa.s.s and along a valley. "Keep your head down!"

"Aerodynamics," he said, tucking his chin on her shoulder again.

"Yes. You'll be dynamicked right off her back. I want to find Prospero, and I'm having difficulty doing that. You're a sorcerer and I know you can find things. You found him before."

"He's as slippery as a wind himself. There are a number of ways to find someone. One is to have something of his-a lock of hair, a rag stained with blood-anything intimate will do, you can use a b.u.t.ton if the person has worn it a while before losing it."

Sorcerer and a (jentfaman 315.

"Oh. I don't have anything. Not with me."