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ess to take it from him。
〃I love you； Denis；〃 the goddess Aphrodite said。
He made an incoherent noise of embarrassment； low down in his throat。 As speech； he thought； it was inadequate； clumsy； mundane； and mean； like everything else he did。 He did not love her； or even want her。 He could not； and he wished that she would leave。
She said to him softly； 〃And the blade that you hold there； my love； is truly called Doomgiver； for I see now that it truly giveth me my doom。〃
〃No！〃 Denis protested； feeling so sorry for her already； not knowing just what it was he feared。
〃Ah yes。 I； who have for ages amused myself with the love of men； must now feel what they have felt。 And； as I love you now； I cannot take Doomgiver from you。 To rob you of the Sword of Justice now； my little mortal darling； would do you much harm。 As a goddess I can foresee that。 But Woundhealer … it will be better if I take that with me now。〃
Denis wanted to tell her that he was sorry。 The words stuck in his throat。
〃How sweet it would be if you could tell me that you loved me too。 But do not lie。〃 And here the goddess extended her arm that still held the Sword of Love； across the narrow strip of water that still separated her from the island； and with the sheathed tip of Woundhealer touched Denis over his heart。 〃I could。。。 but I will not。 My full embrace would not be good for you … not now； not yet。 Someday； perhaps。 I love you； Denis； and for your sake I must now say farewell。〃
And the goddess leaned forward suddenly； and kissed him on the cheek。
〃No。。。 no。〃 He stumbled forward； into mud。 Was it only pity that he felt now？
But the marvelous barge was already shimmering away into the moonlight。
Chapter 7
The two riding beasts must have been well rested when Mark seized them； for they bore their riders willingly and swiftly on the first long stage of the flight from Vilkata's encampment。 The young woman stayed in her saddle firmly； like an experienced rider； but instinctively； passively； and with no apparent understanding of what was happening to her now。 Her blue…green eyes stared steadily out at horror； some horror that was no longer visible to Mark。 Her body was thin； almost emaciated。 Her face was pale under its mask of grime； her hair； colorless with filth； hung long and matted over the captured cloak that she clutched about her with one hand。 Since Mark had pulled her from the cage she had not spoken a single word。
The two of them rode for a long time； side by side； over roadless and gradually rising ground； before Mark stopped the animals for a rest。 He had at last been able to convince himself that there was no pursuit。 Phantom echoes of Vilkata's demonic celebration had persisted in his exhausted mind and senses long after the real sounds had faded。
He was living now with ceaseless pain； and with the taste and sight and smell of his own blood； for the oozing from his forehead wound would not diminish。 And Mark could not shake the feeling that there was something wrong now with his own blood； with the way it smelled and tasted； as if the Mindsword had left a shard of poisoned sunlight embedded in his brain。
Mark dismounted the first time he stopped the animals。 He spoke gently to the young woman； but she only continued to sit her mount in silence； staring straight ahead； not responding to him at all。 He decided not to press the matter of munication； as long as she remained docile。 The all…important thing was to get farther from Vilkata。
Presently they were under way again。 Now their course； aimed directly away from Vilkata's camp； took them into a range of low hills。 Now the encampment； which had still been intermittently visible in the distance； dropped permanently from sight。 Here in the hills the land still showed devastation wrought by the Dark King's foragers。 Soon the fugitives came to a stream； and a thicket that offered shelter of a kind。 Mark stopped again。
This time he employed gentle force to pry the young woman's hands from the reins； and to get her down from the saddle。 Still half…supported by Mark's arm； she stood beside the animal waiting for whatever might happen to her next。 Her lips were cracked； hideously dry。 Mark had to lead her to the stream； and get her to kneel beside it。 Still she did not appear to realize what was in front of her。 Only after he had given her the first drink from his own cupped hands did she rouse from her trance enough to bend to the water for herself。
〃I can stand；〃 she announced suddenly； in a disused croak of a voice。 And stand she did； unaided； a little taller than before。 A moment later； her eyes for the first time fastened on Mark with full attention。
In the next instant he was startled to see joyous recognition surge up in her face。 In a much clearer voice； she murmured； 〃Rostov。。。 how did you ever manage。。？〃
The instant after that； she fell unconscious in Mark's arms。
He caught her as well as he could； and stretched her out on the grass。 Then he sat down； and； holding his own head； tried to think through his pain。 Rostov was a Tasavaltan name； borne by the famed general； and； Mark supposed； by many others as well。 He was still wearing Sightblinder； and the young woman had seen him as someone she knew and trusted。
Mark lay down and tried to rest； but his wound made that practically impossible。 Presently he decided that they might as well go on； if he could get his panion back into the saddle。 She roused herself when he tugged at her； and with his help she got mounted again。 Though she appeared now to be asleep； with closed eyes； she sat steadily astride the riding beast； wrapped in the cloak of gold and black。 That hateful cloak might be a help； thought Mark； if any of the enemy should see her from a distance。 He himself was still protected by Sightblinder； but his panion would not be。
Still his wound throbbed mercilessly。 He was sure now that the Mindsword must have had some poisonous effect； but unless he could find help somewhere there was nothing he could do about it。 He rode on； side by side with his panion； Mark now and then rousing himself enough to realize that neither of them was more than half conscious。 Grimly he concentrated … whenever he was able to concentrate … on maintaining a generally uphill direction； that ought to at least prevent them from riding in a circle right back to Vilkata and his captive gods。
They stopped again only when full night came； and Mark could no longer see where they were going。 There was no food。 Mark had lost his bow somewhere； after his last arrows were lost； and anyway he was in no condition to try to hunt。 His limbs felt weak and he was shaking with chill。 When the young woman had dismounted again and stood beside him； he took the cloak off her and clothed her in his own long hunter's shirt； he could feel her body shivering too； with the night's approaching cold。 Then he lay down with her and huddled against her； wrapping the cloak around them both。 He was too sick to think of wanting anything more from her than warmth。 Feverishly he kept thinking that he ought to get up and do something to tend the animals； but he could not。
In pain and blood； Mark did not so much fall asleep as lapse into unconsciousness。 He woke up； half delirious； in the middle of the night。 Someone's hand had shaken him awake。
The young woman； still wearing his shirt； was sitting upright beside him。 There was firelight； somehow； on her face； and under the dirt he could see a new look of alert intelligence。
〃You are not Rostov。 Where did he go？〃
She had to repeat the question several times before Mark was able to grasp the sense of it。 Yes； of course； she had seen him as someone else； when he had been wearing the Sword。 When he had been。。。
His hand groped at his side； to find that she had disarmed him。 Weakly he managed to raise his head a little。 There was Sightblinder； lying just out of his reach。 He could see it by the light of the small fire that his panion had somehow managed to start。
〃I took it away from you； you were raving and thrashing about。 Where is Rostov？ Who are you？〃
Mark had great difficulty in trying to talk。 It crossed his mind that he was probably dying。 He could only gesture toward the Sword。
She said； puzzled； 〃You killed him with。。？ But no； you can't mean that。〃
〃No。 No。〃 He had to rest a little； to gather his strength before he spoke again。 Even so the words wouldn't e out clearly。 〃。。。 was never here。〃
The young woman stared at him。 Her face was still haggard and worn and filthy； but inner energies were making a powerful effort to revive it。 Now； as if struck by a sudden idea； she turned away to where the Sword lay； and crouched looking at it carefully。 Then she extended one hand； with the practiced gesture of a sorceress； to touch the hilt。
She froze there in that position； one finger touching black。
The grimy girl was gone； and in her place Mark saw his mother； Mala； aged a decade since he had seen her last； her dark lustrous hair now broadly streaked with gray。 It was Mala who knelt near the little campfire holding one finger against Sightblinder's hilt； wearing not Mark's hunting shirt but her own peasant's trousers and a patterned blouse that her son could still recognize。
Then the figure of Mark's mother blurred and shifted； became that of his sister Marian。 Marian was a woman of nearly thirty now； also altered by the years that had passed since Mark had seen her last； on the day that he fled their village。
Marian turned her face to look directly at him； and now in her place Mark beheld a plump girl of the Red Temple； a girl he had encountered once； casually embraced； and then； somehow； never afterward forgotten。 The Red Temple girl turned her body more fully toward Mark； letting go the Sword。
It was the young woman he had rescued from Vilkata's camp； her hair matted； her lean body clad in his dirty； tattered hunting shirt； who approached Mark and bent over him again。 Above her head； above the firelight； massed clouds of stars made a great arc。
She drew a deep breath。 〃I should have realized which Sword that was。 Though I have never seen one of them before。。。 but now I am fully awake； I hope。 I begin to understand。 My name is Kristin。 Who are you？〃
〃Mark。〃
〃Well； Mark。〃 She touched his wounded head； so gently that it barely added to the pain。 When he winced she quickly withdrew her hand again。 〃Was it you who came into … that place … with Sightblinder； and got me out？〃
He managed a nod。
〃And did you e alone？ Yes； you nod again。 Why？ But never mind that now。 I will never forget what you have done for me。 You saved my life； and more。。。 have we any water？〃
Then she was quick to answer her own question； looking and finding Mark's water bottle。 She gave him a drink； first； then took a mouthful for herself。 〃Ah；〃 she said； and relaxed。
But only for a moment。 〃Are you expecting to meet help； here； anywhere nearby？。。。 No。〃 Again she stretched forth a gentle hand； that this time touched him painlessly and soothed his face。 〃Whom do you serve？〃
〃Sir Andrew。〃
〃Ah。 A good man； from all I've ever heard about him。 We in Tasavalta honor him； though we don't know。。。 but never mind。 I must try to do something for that cut on your forehead。〃
Kristin closed her eyes； and muttered spells； and Mark could feel a shivery tugging at the wound； a quasimaterial endeavor to pull out the knife of pain。 But then the knife came back； twisting more fiercely than before； and he cried out。
〃At least the bleeding has stopped；〃 Kristin muttered； with heartlessly reassuring calm。 〃But there's more wrong。 I can do little for you here。〃 She glanced up for a moment at the stars； evidently trying to judge her position or the time or both。 〃Have we any food？〃 No。
She began to move around； looking for something。 She was inspecting some of the nearby plants when Mark lost consciousness again。
When he awoke again it was still night。 He was shivering violently； though he alone was now wrapped twice round in the cloak of black and gold。 His head was supported gently in the warmth of Kristin's lap； and her warm magical fingers were trying to soothe his head。
But he hardly noticed any of that。 Something that seemed more momentous was happening also。 The tall circle of the god