By Anne Fraser and Barbara Zuchegna
With assistance from Sharon Pickrel and Jean Lamb
Copyright 1999

Chapter Nine

It is dark. That's not so bad, because you happen to be a creature with excellent night vision, so there you have the advantage over most of your companions. But you are carrying packs and camping equipment; and while you do have supernatural strength, they still hamper you somewhat. On top of all of this, you are wearing a long, shapeless robe-type of garment, a veil that conceals three quarters of your face, and a hood that very nearly conceals the other quarter. And you're a man. While you're not entirely unfamiliar with wearing feminine garb, to be wearing a chador while walking through the mountains at night, carrying packs and having one of your companions constantly teasing you isn't exactly your idea of a fun night out in drag.

Your name is Adrian Talbot, and you're a vampire, and getting really pissed.

He was beginning to wish that the sun would come up and fry him -- it had to be better than this. The only one of his companions he could stand the sight of at the moment was Will, because the big man kept silently helping him when he stumbled. But finally the little group found their Baluchi contacts. A dozen or so of the tribesmen were gathered together in a hidden niche, horses and all.

Adrian stopped, once more nearly tripping over the damned chador. The Baluchi were greeting Ed Perry and casting glances at the rest of their group. A few horses were staring at them, too, simply because they were something novel and worth staring at.

Horses. Adrian had known, in theory, that they would be travelling by horseback and camping out during the day. In theory. He'd been frantically hoping for some last-minute, blinding miracle of, say, well-constructed paved roads provided with motor vehicles and four-star hotels dotted along their routes. So much for miracles. He promised himself he'd write a strong letter to Flan when he got back to civilization.

It had been way, way too long since he'd traveled rough with a company of travelling actors too poor to afford better accommodations. He hadn't liked it then. He was really unhappy about it now.

Horses. Four legs and no brains. He couldn't even admire the beauty of them because he'd had far too many unhappy experiences around them. They were all looking at him, with those big brown eyes, plotting mayhem. They knew what he was; the chador didn't fool them. They could sense a predator. Nostrils were flaring, heads were tossing, soft whickers and even a loud neigh or two ... oh, yes, they knew...

"Adrian," Alexis whispered to him, "I think you can take the chador off now."

He looked at Richard for confirmation. It was automatic. Damn. He'd gotten used to deferring to the king. Richard nodded. Double damn.

Adrian, aware of the puzzled glances of the Baluchi, shucked the chador and stood there in the Banana Republic outfit that Richard had provided.

The effect on the young Baluchi men was marked. They were all looking at him, with those big brown or black eyes, plotting ... not mayhem, precisely. Nostrils were flaring, heads were tossing, soft whispers and even a loud exclamation or two ... oh, yes, they liked what they saw.

Ed Perry rejoined his group of rescuers, negotiations with the Baluchi successfully concluded.

"They will guide us," he said. "They have horses for us all. I hope you can ride."

Jake looked doubtful. "I had a couple of pony rides once when I was a kid," he said, looking at the horses as if he'd never seen one before.

"I hope you're a quick learner, then. Anyone else?" Perry looked at Adrian.

"I have ridden," said the actor, gathering his dignity. "But I'm no horseman."

"I thought you could do everything," Jake said.

"Not ride."

"But..." Jake glanced at Ed Perry, then switched to mental conversation. 'You grew up in a time when people had horses,' he said.

'Rich people,' Adrian replied. 'I was a player's boy. I would no more have owned a horse than I would have worn silk and velvet. I never really learned to ride well. Horses don't like me.'

'Cheer up,' said Jake. 'At least we'll both be looking like total idiots.'

'How nice to have company.' Adrian turned to Ed Perry, who was watching them with some bemusement. "Do you know why they're all staring at me?" he asked. "Haven't they ever seen a guy in a chador before?"

"Probably not," Ed replied. "But I don't think that's why they're staring at you."

The Baluchis had drawn nearer while Adrian and Jake were exchanging mental words. One of them reached out and touched Adrian, hesitantly, and withdrew his hand quickly. Adrian turned, but no matter where he looked, he had an audience. There was a certain look about them, the way they were staring, that he recognized...

"They all look," he said, "as if I'm a glass of water in the middle of the desert."

Then he remembered what he had read. That the young tribesmen, having no access to young women, experimented sexually with each other. To them, a man who would allow himself to be dressed as a woman must be one who would not reject advances from another man.

"They say that you are the most beautiful man they have ever seen," Ed Perry told Adrian, confirming this.

'This is going to be a fun trip for somebody,' Jake thought at his friend.

'No,' Adrian replied firmly. 'I've given up sex, remember? And if I pick one, anyway, the rest of them might get upset or start a fight or something. And I can't sleep with all of them.'

'You'd better make that plain from the start, then,' Jake warned. 'Because they're all measuring you to see if you'll fit.'

The leader of the Baluchi came forward, bowed to Richard, and looked to Ed Perry to make introductions. The tribesmen had names like Fadi, Mansour, Imaad, or Naajy. They all grinned a lot, especially when they looked at Adrian. With names exchanged, and the young men practicing saying "Adrian" to themselves, just in case, the Baluchi leader suggested respectfully that they get a move on.

"We have many hours until we reach the caves where we will spend the day," he said, the necessity for shelter during daytime having been impressed on him. "Come. We have horses for you."

Ed Perry, after speaking with the Baluchis for some moments, brought two of them over to Richard. He introduced them, in English, as Shahid Khan, who was in charge, and Zabour Something Unpronounceable, who was his lieutenant. Richard was introduced to them as "Effendi Richard."

There were bows all around. Shahid Khan, smiling hugely, offered his hand and Richard shook it. Zabour did not.

Richard found Shahid to be a good-natured but authoritative man, someone long used to leading. It was a quality Richard recognized easily and respected. These people did not lead gentle lives, and a man who had survived leadership for any length of time among them would have worthwhile qualities. His ready smile and pleasant voice were misleading; there was steel underneath.

Shahid was large ... not fat, but bulky, and like all the Baluchis, he was lavishly bearded and mustachioed. Surprisingly, his beard was light in color, and his eyes blue, but then the books had said that these people had admixtures of blood from northern peoples, and there might well be many among them with such coloring, even though all those who had come with him were dark.

Zabour was a tall, thin, ascetic-looking man, thirty-something ... probably about ten or fifteen years younger than his chief. His eyes were probing, dissatisfied, and Richard thought that he disapproved of this enterprise, but was committed to obeying his leader. Shahid spoke English, not well, but understandably. Zabour had nothing at all to say, but merely bowed at the introductions and watched the newcomers carefully.

The other Baluchis were all much younger. From his reading, Richard assumed these were unmarried men, without families or flocks to care for, and earning money by a bit of smuggling to acquire the means of buying a wife. There was, he had read, a great deal of smuggling across the borders into Iran and Afghanistan, where reactionary governments forbade the distilling of spirits to people long accustomed to having access to them. There was also a regular trade in gun running. This was without doubt the usual business of Shahid Khan and his group. The price asked for diverting them on this particular trip had not been small, but Richard had been more than willing to pay if he could get exactly what he wanted. Perry seemed to have accomplished this. These people would be able to get their party across the border over the same smugglers' trails they had been using for generations. And they would have close contacts among the Baluchis in Iran.

While Perry spoke with Shahid Khan in his own tongue again, Richard's attention wandered to Adrian. Alexis was telling him that it was safe now to remove the chador, and Adrian looked to Richard for confirmation. Richard nodded, and Adrian, with obvious relief, shed the damned thing at last. The immediate reaction among the younger Baluchis was almost comical. Looking at Adrian now, his already beautiful face only enhanced by the makeup he still wore, Richard remembered something of what he had read about young Baluchi men and felt a small shiver of impending disaster. The young Baluchis here were clearly bedazzled, and the whole group was edging in closer to Adrian, their eyes soulfully worshipful. One reached out a tentative hand to touch him, as if he could not believe this vision before his wondering eyes.

"Richard?" Ed Perry's voice drew his attention. Perry was telling him about what he had just learned from Shahid about border patrols. Both Iran and Pakistan patrolled this area with helicopters during the day, but they would avoid these by travelling only at night. More troublesome for the Baluchis, and potentially for this venture, were the horseback patrols they sometimes ran across on the Iranian side of the border. These might be encountered at any time, and they were both well-mounted and well-armed. Shahid had admitted, laughing, that on at least one occasion he had been forced to abandon an entire herd of "liberated" Iranian sheep he had been bringing back into Pakistan in the process of a running firefight with an Iranian border patrol squad.

"We will have to arm your friends," Perry told Richard. "I don't suppose there's any chance that any of them can shoot?"

Richard didn't really see any point in mentioning that his own experience with firearms included exactly one afternoon of being guided around a war museum by the curator and being allowed to do some target shooting on the museum's firing range. He said, "They will do what is necessary ... Ed. I cannot promise expertise."

Perry sighed. He'd been afraid of that.

"If we are unlikely to encounter these patrols before we cross the border," Richard said, "I would prefer that you wait until then to raise the issue."

Perry gave him a long, measuring look, then shrugged. "It's your party," he said, and went back to speak to Shahid again. Richard returned his attention, apprehensively, to Adrian and the gathering Baluchis. Adrian was clearly aware of their fascination, and looked a bit embarrassed. Richard had the sinking feeling that all of this boded no good at all, but he would have to trust in Adrian to deal with it circumspectly.

Alexis was a different problem. He went over to her and said, keeping his voice low, "Lady, I mean no disrespect, but these people will be unable to understand the concept of an unmarried woman who travels with a group of men to whom she is not related. It has been necessary for Mr. Perry to inform them that you are ... with me."

Her head tilted to one side and the eyelashes fanned with mock surprise. Alexis was not a fool; she had undoubtedly already known something of this sort was needed. But she said, "Another 'wife,' Richard? You do have a knack for acquiring women, don't you?"

There was a moment of absolute blankness on Richard's face. He had no way of knowing how well-informed Alexis was about his life ... that she had corresponded with Giuliana, that she knew all about Anne and Liliana. But her remark had cut very close to the bone. He forced a smile. "No," he said. "Forgive me, but if I had claimed you were my wife, you would be expected to tend to my needs as a Baluchi wife would. I could not imagine you cooking for me, or cleaning my clothing. They have been told that you are my concubine. That is something they understand."

"Ah." She thought about it for a moment. "In that case," she said, "exactly what services will they expect that I will be performing for you?"

Richard studied her seriously. With the moonlight full on her uplifted face, she was incredibly beautiful, and the hard edges were not at all visible. He had a fleeting wish that he was not quite so tired, but said only, "They will expect that you will do whatever I instruct you to do. What that will be is something we can negotiate between us when there is time to do so."

Ed Perry came back, to inform the entire group that the Baluchis would be guiding them, and to make brief introductions of the younger Baluchi men. Adrian asked him something Richard couldn't hear. Perry answered, and Adrian looked unsettled, his eyes darting around at the staring young Baluchis. The entire bunch of them were practicing saying his name under their breaths.

Shahid Khan joined them to say that the horses were being brought up, and that they would do well to start their journey if they were to reach shelter by dawn. Richard was still watching the young Baluchis circling ever closer to Adrian, and he saw the sudden flare of panic in Adrian's eyes as the word "horses" confirmed his suspicions of another unhappy prospect.

All the earmarks of a budding disaster were fast falling into place. Richard sighed heavily. It didn't matter. If he had to drag the whole group kicking and screaming to success in this venture, he would do so. He had had enough of failure. Every one of his companions might well hate him by the time this journey had ended, but they were going to succeed, or they were going to die trying.

But it was probably better not to belabor that point until they were across the border in Iran.

There is a quite excellent book on the art of horseback riding, entitled "Centered Riding", that increases one's skills in this arena. Adrian had never even heard of it. His approach to horses was somewhere along the lines of occasionally placing money on one in a race at the Woodbine track, usually the one that came in eighth. Horses, as far as he was concerned, were a seriously outdated mode of transportation, and one that should never have come into vogue in the first place. They were fine for going around in circles at fast speeds for two minutes. Or for going over fences within an arena, preferably with some outrageous daredevil like Ian Millar controlling the reins. Adrian rated professional showjumpers in the same category as skydivers and explosives handlers.

So when a grinning Baluchi tribesman handed him the reins to a large brown horse, otherwise known as chaos on four legs, Adrian stared at it in total dismay.

"Can't I just walk?" he asked. "I'll keep up."

The Baluchi laughed and patted Adrian on the back. Only his aim was off by a few inches. "You could ride with me," he suggested, his expression what could only be called a leer.

"My horse can carry two!" came another offer, from another grinning tribesman.

Adrian sighed. All this attention was embarrassing. "I'll manage," he grumbled.

Mansour, the tribesman offering Adrian the horse, smiled. He had the real advantage, being the one closest to the beautiful actor. "I shall help you," he declared.

"I don't need any help," Adrian griped, preparing to haul himself into the saddle.

But the horse had other ideas. It had stood there quietly enough until now, though tossing its head at the scent of vampire. But when the undead thing tried to mount it, it decided it was having none of this.

Richard, Will, Ed, and Alexis were already mounted. Jake was struggling to get into his own saddle, but nobody was offering to help him. All of them turned to look when Adrian's horse suddenly reared, neighing its displeasure at having to bear a vampire. Mansour, swearing in his native tongue, was trying to force the animal back down. Several other Baluchi ran to assist and finally the horse was brought, trembling, to enough of a standstill to allow Adrian to mount.

If Adrian could have reared and neighed, he would have. "I'm not getting on that thing!" he declared.

Mansour patted the horse's foaming neck. "He has promised to behave," he said. "You must ride, my friend. Your commander is losing patience."

Adrian glanced at Richard. While Richard did not look as if he was angry, it was true that progress was not being made in their journey. Even Jake was mounted, though he was looking more like someone on a carousel horse than on a live one. Adrian, assisted happily by Mansour, swung himself into the saddle. The horse trembled, but did not rear.

"Yippee kai yay," Adrian said.

Alexis had a grim set to her mouth, as her mount was restive as well. She shot a glance of sympathy at Adrian when she could spare a moment trying to control her own horse. One of the Baluchis took pity on the poor Western woman, clearly out of her element, and gave the beast a hearty smack right between the eyes. Adrian wished he dared to do the same to his.

Jake was simply clinging for dear life. He looked over to Will for help, but found that the big man was more or less copying his own lost expression. Will was used to huge warhorses with saddles built up that one couldn't fall out of. Swell.

The young Baluchis were starting to snicker at the hopelessness of so many of these visitors. Richard, assessing the situation, turned his own horse back expertly and rounded up the greenhorns.

"I cannot turn you all into horsemen overnight," the former king said. "More's the pity. But I can teach you all enough that you can stay on and keep up. Don't grip the saddle horn. You, Jake, let go of it this minute."

Jake, looking guilty, did just that, then gripped it again as his horse jerked forward.

"The reins, Jake," Richard said with more patience than he was feeling. "Grip the reins. Holding the saddle horn only makes things worse. Grip with your knees, Adrian. Let the horse know who is master." He demonstrated the proper seating, use of the reins, and knee pressure. He made each of the three "dudes" imitate his every move.

"Now," he said, looking at Jake especially, "be sure to stand up in the stirrups every so often. This will prevent saddle sores and help keep your leg muscles from stiffening. Otherwise you won't be able to ride tomorrow night."

"Are we ready, Richard?" Ed Perry asked. "The night isn't getting any younger, and we should be gone."

"Ready?" Richard asked his three pupils.

"Yes, Your ... sir," Will replied, hesitantly fingering the reins and wishing for a warhorse instead of this flimsy-looking part Arab.

"Ready, chief," Jake said, wondering what would happen if he gripped the saddle horn again.

'Ever feel the slap of rein leather across your knuckles?' Adrian asked him sourly. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be," he said out loud.

Richard nodded and they moved out, the king keeping a close eye on the rookie riders.

Wars would be so much neater without people.

He could have sworn he heard Adrian and Jake singing.

"Yippee kai yai yay, git along little daw-gies ..."

As the horses struggled up the narrow trail, a path that gave every sign of years of use, Will Scrope was watching his king, who rode just ahead. Richard was a superb horseman, and his body moved easily with the animal's labored upward gait, but Will could detect the slight over-sway as Richard responded when the horse turned too sharply. Richard was literally reeling in the saddle with sheer exhaustion. He had not slept since those few hours between Paris and Bahrain, and Will thought he knew why. Unable to be alone, Richard would not risk dreaming where others might see.

Off to the left, the sky was growing lighter by the moment along the horizon, and it could not be long before the sun appeared. If that happened before they reached shelter, Adrian Talbot's problems were going to be worse than Richard's. Worried now, Will turned in his own saddle to ask of the still-faced man riding behind him ... Zabour, if he remembered it rightly, "How much further must we go before we reach the stopping place your leader spoke of?"

Zabour's eyes fastened on him with blank sobriety. At first, Will didn't think he was going to answer. Zabour had appeared to be angry every since they had met the Baluchis. But then he said, "It is not far now." He pointed up ahead. "Where the trail turns there ... around that pinnacle of rock is the place."

Will was mildly surprised at the quality of the man's English. His accent was British, and his vocabulary spoke of long familiarity. But Will thought it better not to mention it. Looking ahead, to where the man had pointed, Will thought they would need another half hour to round the pinnacle Zabour had indicated. It would be close.

He saw Richard sway too far to one side again, and barely catch himself, jerking upright in the saddle. Will sighed. There was nothing he could do now. But he would find a way to give his king some privacy when they stopped; Richard needed sleep desperately.

The first intense glow of orange had already appeared in the sky off to their left when they rounded the upthrust of rock and turned sharply downward. Below, only a little way ahead, Will could see the openings in the rock wall that were the mouths of several caves. They looked discouragingly small. Will had hoped for something large enough that he would be able to arrange a very isolated place for Richard to sleep.

But as the head of the train of horses reached the place, he was surprised to see them ride directly into one of the openings. Adrian and Jake followed, then Alexis and Ed Perry and Richard, and Will, ducking his head, followed. Apparently, the cave was much larger than it appeared from the outside.

It was. They rode through a narrow, downward-sloping passage, and then emerged into one of the strangest sights Will had ever seen. It was a vast cavern, so enormous that Will could not even make out the roof, far above. The sound of the horses' hooves echoed eerily off the rock walls, bouncing back and forth, and there was a source of light directly ahead. Craning his neck to see around the riders ahead of him, Will was startled to see a pool of water almost large enough to be called a lake, water so still that its surface might have been glass, water that glowed an incredible soft milky-green color. The reflected light could not reach the roof of the cavern, lost somewhere in darkness above, but it was bright enough to make artificial lighting unnecessary.

Zabour pulled up his horse beside Will's. His face looked ghostly in the reflected greenish glow. "The water is perfectly safe to drink," he said stiffly, studying the wonder on Will's face. "Our people have been stopping in this place for thousands of years. The water is clear; it is the rock that contains it that is phosphorescent."

All over the floor of the cavern, spired rock shapes thrust up from the floor, in all different diameters and heights, except in the area around the pool, where they had been broken off over the centuries, and there were many openings in the walls that appeared to lead into other caves. Already the Baluchis were spreading out around the edges of the pool, letting the horses drink and filling their own water bags. Further back, well away from the horses, some of them were busy starting a fire. Will was startled to see that they were using the artificial "fireplace" logs he had seen used at the Refuge ... and then realized that he could not remember seeing a tree since they left the train. Wood would be in short supply, obviously, but there was something almost laughably incongruous about the prosaic fake logs in this setting.

Zabour had seen the expression on Will's open face, and anger kindled in his eyes. He said, "It is not possible to avoid all contamination from the world outside," and nudged his horse forward, passing Will.

Will thought about it a minute as the last of the Baluchis rode past him and into the cavern. Contamination? It seemed a harmless convenience to Will, but Zabour's feelings were clearly not the same. And Zabour was not happy with this entire journey. Will was beginning to think that Zabour would bear watching.

Will rode up to where the other horses were drinking from the pool and stepped down stiffly, allowing one of the younger Baluchis to take the animal. He was going to feel his ride for a day or so, he thought ruefully. It had been a long time since he'd ridden. Richard had encouraged him to take it up back at the Refuge, and he had demurred. He regretted it now.

Richard was at the far end of the pool, beyond where the Baluchis were building their fire, and he was casually stripping off his clothes, oblivious of their curious eyes. Will went to him and picked up the clothing his king was tossing on the floor of the cave. He said, a bit nonplussed, "Your Grace, the lady..."

"Can avert her eyes, if she likes," Richard said. "Will, would you get out one of the white robes? And a razor. I would like to shave." Naked, all color drained from his skin by the eerie light, Richard turned away and in one clean motion, dove into the glowing water. Some of it splashed out onto Will; it was as cold as if it had been iced. But Richard had already known that. Will had seen him reach down to test it before he undressed.

Will turned away and found Ed Perry watching, along with the woman, Alexis ... who had not averted her eyes, he noticed. Perry said, "If your boss had waited a few minutes, the Baluchis would have given him some privacy. They don't like to stay inside. They only come in here for water and to build their cook fire where the smoke won't attract the border patrols."

Will didn't say anything. He went back to the horses to get out the packs that would hold the things his king wanted.

Adrian Talbot didn't think he would ever be able to walk normally again. Richard had kept after them, all night, to periodically stand in their stirrups. He had said it would reduce the stiffness and soreness that inexperienced riders were bound to suffer. If this was reduced, the mind boggled at what was normal. At least Jake didn't appear to be in any better shape. He had dropped, disconsolately, at the edge of the green pool, and was dipping handfuls of water toward his mouth.

As Adrian joined him, Jake said, "Your king isn't exactly shy, is he?" He nodded toward the far end of the pool, where Richard Plantagenet, taking no notice of anyone else, had just finished stripping himself naked. The Baluchis had all stopped what they were doing to stare as Richard dove into the water. "God," Jake whispered. "This damned water's like ice. He's gonna freeze his butt off."

Adrian didn't answer. Wild speculation was zinging around inside his head. In that brief instant while Richard was poised on the edge of the water, Adrian had seen clearly the terrible burn scar on his right hip, and he knew that moon-and-talon design. He had last seen it on Gabriel Tallant's belt buckle. And he could think of only one way in which it could have been burned into Richard's flesh. What in the hell had happened at the Refuge?

Ed Perry, leaving a bemused Alexis to watch Richard using handfuls of sand to damned near scrub his skin off in the frigid water, came over to Adrian and Jake. "If you're a bit more modest than your friend," he said, "the Baluchis will be camping outside during the day, and we can take turns in the pool."

"Are you kidding?" Jake said, outraged. "The water's freezing."

Perry had no sympathy at all. "This may be the last chance you'll have to wash off all the sweat and grime from the train. We won't find more than small springs from here on. Enough to water the horses and fill our water bags, but not enough to bathe. Think about it." He didn't wait, but walked away. He didn't look a bit stiff or sore.

"Richard seems to be surviving the cold, Jake," Adrian pointed out.

"Richard is dead."

"No, he's not. And don't ask." Adrian sank down beside him and peered into the glowing water. "Do you think there's anything swimming around in there?"

"Cave sharks," Jake said.

Adrian stared at him, horrified. "Cave sharks? Was that in the books?"

Jake nodded solemnly. "They're snow white, and they don't have eyes. But they follow scent ... and they attack in packs, like piranhas. But they stay in the deep water, so if you stay close to the edge..." Jake stopped. He was watching Richard, who had stepped up out of the pool now and was quickly, efficiently, using his discarded clothing to sluice the excess water from his skin. "Shit," Jake said. "Look at the scars on him. Is that a birthmark on his hip?"

It wasn't. Jake could not see as clearly through the green-tinted gloom as Adrian could. He had noticed the brand, and if he had been closer, Jake, too, would have recognized the design. Jake could not see, either, the incredible number of scars that Adrian could ... only the worst of them. And Adrian remembered watching Richard strip down to his bare chest at Hoolihan's. He did not remember seeing all of that. God, even the man's throat had been slit. What in the hell had happened at the Refuge?

Will Scrope had returned to Richard, and was shaking out a lightweight, voluminous white robe, which he slipped now over Richard's shoulders. "Is that silk?" Adrian said, incredulously, watching the fabric float on the air as Richard turned. "Are we roughing it in silk bathrobes?"

"Richard told me about that," Jake said, with some authority. "Almost everything is silk. The tents are silk ... and the littler tent for you that we'll put up inside the big ones. The robes ... like that one ... are to wear outside in the daytime; they reflect most of the sun's heat and light away from you. Richard says silk is the toughest fiber, and it weighs almost nothing, and it can be folded smaller than anything else. In his day, his tents were always silk. He says that it can be woven tight enough to shed rain, and even to hold air. The first hot air balloons were made of silk."

Adrian looked at him doubtfully. "How does he know that? They didn't have hot air balloons in his time."

"He reads, Adrian. I watched him at the hotel. I don't think he ever read anything for pleasure in his life. He reads the way other people sort through tomatoes in a market ... he picks out what he wants and stores it away and goes on to the next book. I heard him on the phone, too. He picks the brains of people who know what he needs to know with the most ruthless efficiency I've ever seen. And he did it to me, when he had me figuring out what we would need to protect you. You'd think words cost money, the way he bats away what he doesn't need and makes you say just what he wants to hear." Jake was shaking his head, reluctantly admiring. "He can be a royal pain in the ass, but I'll give him this: he knows how to get things done."

The white silk robe ... a burnoose? a kaftan? Adrian was damned if he knew ... drifted around Richard's feet as he found a knee-height rock to sit on and settled down to shave, with Will offering a small mirror. Richard took this, propped it on a convenient nearby rock, and went back to what he was doing. For all the attention he was giving to anyone or anything else, he could have been entirely alone in the cavern.

Jake, who never seemed to know when he was pushing his luck, said suddenly, "Did you want to take your turn in the pool? I can watch for sharks from here and sing out if they start to close in on you."

There was a too-sober look on Jake's face. Adrian sighed. He'd done it again. To Jake, he said, "You will never make an actor, Jake. I've told you before. You overdo."

Jake snorted, vastly amused. "Had you going there for a minute," he said with great satisfaction.

Adrian thought about it for a moment. He'd taken a lot from Jake since that night at the Four Seasons. He thought he'd shown admirable restraint, thus far, in his response. But it was, perhaps, time to establish once more just who was senior around here.

He glanced quickly around. No one appeared to be watching them. The Baluchis, even his adoring fans, were concentrating on unpacking and on messing with food, over by the fire. With a sudden movement too quick for anyone to see clearly, even if they had happened to glance this way, Adrian reached down, plucked Jake's much bigger body up over his head, and heaved it out into the pool. By the time Jake surfaced, bellowing and gasping for air, Adrian was sitting calmly by the edge, watching, with no more than polite interest on his face.

'Talbot! I'm gonna kill you!' Even furious, Jake had the presence of mind to say it silently.

Adrian smirked. 'A bit late, Jake. Enjoy your swim.'

While Richard shaved, an unpleasant chore with ice-cold water, Will had gone to find a private place to arrange his bed. He came back now, as Richard finished, to point out the opening to a side cavern on the far side of the cave, away from the pool. "I have laid out your things in there, Your Grace. When everyone has bathed, I will arrange my own bed near the entrance, to assure that you are not disturbed."

Richard was watching Jake Fowler splashing around at the far end of the pool, making his way quickly to the edge. Richard hadn't seen exactly how Jake got so far out into the water, but he didn't think he'd done it by himself. Adrian was sitting at the edge, the perfect picture of disinterested innocence. Richard reached out to squeeze Will's arm briefly. "Thank you. I appreciate all you've done, Will."

As always, Will was embarrassed by Richard's praise. His former masters had expected service, and accepted it without comment unless they found something to criticize. Richard, more and more, was treating Will as his friend, and not his henchman, and Will was still having difficulty with the concept.

Richard made his way across to where Alexis was standing, still watching him with speculative eyes. He said, keeping his voice low enough so that only she could hear, "Forgive me, but you must come with me now. What arrangements you make when these people have left the cave are your own business, surely, but while they are here, you must be seen to attend me when I go to my bed."

Alexis's eyes were unusually sober, for her. She had known all about the goings-on at the Refuge, but imagining what Gabriel Tallant had done to Richard was very different from seeing the marks of it left on his body. And she had been close enough to see it all. She didn't argue, but held her hand out to him. Richard took her wrist and pulled her along behind him as he crossed, weaving his way through the up-jutting pillars of rock, to the side cave Will had indicated. Behind them, the younger Baluchis were busily grinning and nudging each other enviously.

The place was small, but roomy enough, and Will had succeeded in making a comfortable pallet on the sandy floor. Richard released Alexis's wrist at once. "You are welcome to stay, of course," he said politely. "I think you would find me harmless enough today."

He didn't want her to stay. Alexis understood perfectly. The man was teetering on the near edge of passing out, and he wanted privacy almost desperately. But she had plans of her own, and no need to sleep. "Thank you," she said, with no flirtatiousness. "But if you'll excuse me, I think I would prefer something a bit less ... rustic. I'll be back at sundown, Richard. Sleep well." Before his eyes, with the smallest of smiles, she dematerialized and vanished.

Richard sighed. There was something more unsettling about Alexis's gradual transparency and disappearance than there was about the immediate vanishing that Val Corey and the Awakened could do. But he was too weary now to care. He shed the white silk kaftan and threw himself down on the pallet, and forced all his concerns about this journey from his mind. Whatever arose, he would deal with it ... when he was rested. For now, there was nothing he could do, and nothing that he knew of that needed doing. He closed his eyes and waited, certain already that she would come, and uncertain whether or not he wanted her to...