Free The Complete Morgaine by C. J. Cherryh

of this,” said Kasedre.
    â€œGladly, at dinner,” she said.
    â€œAh, sit, stay, have wine with us,” begged Kasedre.
    Morgaine gave forth that chill smile again, dazzling and false. “By your leave, lord Kasedre, we are still weary from our travels and we will need a time to rest or I fear we shall not last a late banquet. We will go to our room and rest a time, and then come down at whatever hour you send for us.”
    Kasedre pouted. In such as he the moment was dangerous, but Morgaine continued to smile, bright and deadly, and full of promises. Kasedre bowed. Morgaine rose and bowed.
    Vanye inclined himself again at Kasedre’s feet, had a moment to see the look that Kasedre cast at Morgaine’s back.
    It was, he was glad to see, still awestruck.
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    Vanye was shaking with exhaustion when they reached the security of their upstairs room. He himself moved the chair before the door again, and sat down on the bed. Morgaine’s cold hand touched his brow, seeking fever.
    â€œAre you well?” she asked.
    â€œWell enough. Lady, you are mad to sample anything of his at table tonight.”
    â€œIt is not a pleasant prospect, I grant you that.” She took off the dragon sword and set it against the wall.
    â€œYou are playing with him,” said Vanye, “and he is mad.”
    â€œHe is accustomed to having his way,” said Morgaine. “The novelty of this experience may intrigue him utterly.”
    And she set down in the other plain chair and folded her arms. “Rest,” she said. “I think we may both need it.”
    He eased back on the bed, leaning his shoulder against the wall, and brooded over matters. “I am glad,” he said out of those thoughts, “that you did not ride on and leave me here senseless with fever as I was. I am grateful,
liyo.
”
    She looked at him, gray eyes catwise and comfortable. “Then thee admits,” she said, “that there are some places worse to be
ilin
than in my service?”
    The thought chilled him. “I do admit it,” he said. “This place being chief among them.”
    She propped her feet upon her belongings: he lay down and shut his eyes and tried to rest. The hand throbbed. It was still slightly swollen. He would have gladly gone outside and packed snow about it, reckoning that of more value than Flis’ poultices and compresses or Morgaine’s
qujalin
treatments.
    â€œThe imp’s knife was plague-ridden,” he said. Then, remembering: “Did you see them?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe boy—the girl—”
    â€œHere?”
    â€œIn the downstairs corridor, after you passed.”
    â€œI am not at all surprised.”
    â€œWhy do you endure this?” he asked. “Why did you not resist them bringing us here? You could have dealt with my injury yourself—and probably with them too.”
    â€œYou perhaps have an exaggerated idea of my capacities. I am not able to lift a sick man about, and argument did not seem profitable at the moment. When it does, I shall consider doing something. But you are charged with my safety, Nhi Vanye, and with protecting me. I do expect you to fulfill that obligation.”
    He lifted his swollen hand. “That—is not within my capacity at the moment, if it comes to fighting our way out of here.”
    â€œAh. So you have answered your own first questions.” That was Morgaine at her most irritating. She settled again to waiting, then began instead to pace. She was very like a wild thing caged. She needed something for her hands, and there was nothing left. She went to the barred window and looked out and returned again.
    She did that by turns for a very long time, sitting a while, pacing a while, driving him to frenzy, in which if he had not been in pain, he might also have risen and paced the room in sheer frustration. Had the woman ever been still, he wondered, or did