The young woman cast him a glance from her dark eyes that might have sizzled his

flesh.

"Your potatoes have mo re brains than you do, Otik. I run errands for no one."

She shoved past him. Her glance swept the common room and fixed on Antimodes,

much to his astonishment and annoyance.

"I've come to speak to one of your guests," the young woman announced.

She ignored Otik's fluttering, "Now, now, Kitiara. I'm not sure you should be bothering

the gentleman."

Kit strode up to Antimodes, stood beside his table, gazed down on him.

"You're a wizard, aren't you?" she asked.

Antimodes indicated his displeasure by not rising to greet her as he would have done to

any other female. Expecting either to be made sport of or perhaps propositioned by this

illmannered hoyden, he set his face in stem lines of disapproval.

"What I am is my own affair, young lady," he said with sardonic emphasis on the last

word. He shifted his gaze deliberately out the window, indicating that the conversation

was ended.

"Kitiara..." Otik hovered anxiously. "This gentleman is my guest. And this is really not

the time or the place to. .."

The young woman put her brown hands on the table and leaned over it. Antimodes was

now starting to be truly angered by this intrusion. He shifted his attention back to her,

noting as he did so-he would have been less than human if he had not noticed-the curve

of her full breasts beneath the leather vest.

"I know someone who wants to become a wizard," she said. Her voice was serious and

intense. "I want to help him, but I don't know how. I don't know what to do." Her hand

lifted in a gesture of frustration. "Where do I go? Who do I talk to? You can tell me."

If the inn had suddenly shifted in its branches and dumped Antimodes out the window,

he could not have been more astonished. This was highly irregular! This simply wasn't

done! There were proper channels....

"My dear young woman," he began.

"Please." Kitiara leaned nearer.

Her eyes were liquid brown, framed by long, black, thick lashes. Her eyebrows were

dark and delicately arched to frame

the eyes. Her skin was tanned by the sun; she'd led an outdoor life. She was well

muscled, lithe, and had grown through the awkwardness of girlhood to attain the grace,

not of a woman, but of a stalking cat. She drew him to her, and he went willingly, tho ugh

he was old enough and experienced enough to know that she would not permit him to

come too close. She would allow few men to warm themselves at her inner fire, and the

gods help those who did.

"Kitiara, leave the gentleman to his dinner." Otik touched the girl's arm.

Kitiara rounded on him. She did not speak, she merely looked at him. Otik shrank

back.

"It is all right, Master Sandath." Antimodes was quick to intervene. He was fond of

Otik and did not want to cause the innkeeper trouble. The dwarf, who had finished his

dinner, was now taking an interest, as were two of the barmaids. "The young ... um ...

lady and I have some business to transact. Please, be seated, mistress."

He rose slightly and made a bow. The young woman slid into the chair opposite. The

barmaid whisked over to clear the plates-and to try to satisfy her curiosity.

"Will there be anything else?" she asked Antimodes.

He looked politely at his young guest. "Will you have something?"

"No, thanks," said Kitiara shortly. "Be about your business, Rita. If we need anything,