weep.
He was still weeping, but he lay against a warm body and from somewhere in the distance came a soothing voice.
His head was being stroked and he was being rocked back and forth in a soft bed by the woman on whose breast he lay.
For a moment he tried to free himself, but she held him tight.
He began to weep again, freely this time, great groans racking his body, until he slept again. And now the sleep was free from dreams . . .
He awoke feeling anxious. He felt that he had slept for too long, that he must be up and doing something. He half raised himself in the bod and then sank down again into the pillows.
It slowly came to him that he was much refreshed. For the first time since he had set off on his quest, he felt full of energy and well-being. Even the darkness in his mind seemed to have retreated.
So the Margravine had drugged him, but now, it seemed, it had been a drug to make him sleep, to help him regain his strength.
But how many days had he slept?
He stirred again in the bed and felt the soft warmth of another beside him, on his blind side. He turned his head and there was Rhalina, her eyes closed, her sweet face at peace.
He recalled his dreaming. He recalled the comfort he had been given as all the misery in him poured forth.
Rhalina had comforted him. He reached out with his good hand to stroke the tumbled hair. He felt affection for her—an affection almost as strong as he had felt for his own family.
Reminded of his dead kin, he stopped stroking her hair and contemplated, instead, the puckered stump of his left hand. It was completely healed now, leaving a rounded end of white skin. He looked back at Rhalina. How could she bear to share her bed with such a cripple?
As he looked at her, she opened her eyes and smiled at him.
He thought he detected pity in that smile and was immediately resentful. He began to climb from the bed, but her hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Stay with me, Corum, for I need your comforting now.”
He paused, looked back at her suspiciously.
"Please, Corum, I believe that I love you."
He frowned. "Love? Between Vadhagh and Mabden? Love of that kind?" He shook his head. "Impossible. There could be no issue."
"No children, I know. But love gives birth to other things . . .”
"I do not understand you."
"I am sorry," she said. "I was selfish. I am taking advantage of you." She sat up in bed. "I have slept with no one else since my husband went away. I am not used . . .”
Corum studied her body. It moved him and yet it should not have. It was unnatural for one species to feel such emotion for another . . .
He reached down and kissed her breast. She clasped his head. They sank, again, into the sheets, making gentle love, learning of one another as only those truly in love may.
After some hours, she said to him, "Corum, you are the last of your race. I will never see my people again, save for those retainers who are here. It is peaceful in this castle. There is little that would disturb that peace. Would you not consider staying here with me—at least for a few months?"
"I have sworn to avenge the deaths of my folk," he reminded her softly, and kissed her cheek.
"Such oaths are not true to your nature, Corum. You are one who would rather love than hate, I know."
"I cannot answer that," he replied, "for I will not consider my life fulfilled unless I destroy Glandyth-a-Krae. This wish is not so hate-begotten as you might think. I feel, perhaps, like one who sees a disease spreading through a forest. One hopes to cut out the diseased plants so that the others may grow straight and live. That is my feeling concerning Glandyth-a-Krae. He has formed the habit of frilling. Now that he has killed all the Vadhagh, he will want to kill others. If he finds no more strangers, he will begin to kill those wretches who occupy the villages ruled by Lyr-a-Brode. Fate has given me the impetus I need to pursue this attitude of mine to its proper conclusion, Rhalina."
"But why
He was still weeping, but he lay against a warm body and from somewhere in the distance came a soothing voice.
His head was being stroked and he was being rocked back and forth in a soft bed by the woman on whose breast he lay.
For a moment he tried to free himself, but she held him tight.
He began to weep again, freely this time, great groans racking his body, until he slept again. And now the sleep was free from dreams . . .
He awoke feeling anxious. He felt that he had slept for too long, that he must be up and doing something. He half raised himself in the bod and then sank down again into the pillows.
It slowly came to him that he was much refreshed. For the first time since he had set off on his quest, he felt full of energy and well-being. Even the darkness in his mind seemed to have retreated.
So the Margravine had drugged him, but now, it seemed, it had been a drug to make him sleep, to help him regain his strength.
But how many days had he slept?
He stirred again in the bed and felt the soft warmth of another beside him, on his blind side. He turned his head and there was Rhalina, her eyes closed, her sweet face at peace.
He recalled his dreaming. He recalled the comfort he had been given as all the misery in him poured forth.
Rhalina had comforted him. He reached out with his good hand to stroke the tumbled hair. He felt affection for her—an affection almost as strong as he had felt for his own family.
Reminded of his dead kin, he stopped stroking her hair and contemplated, instead, the puckered stump of his left hand. It was completely healed now, leaving a rounded end of white skin. He looked back at Rhalina. How could she bear to share her bed with such a cripple?
As he looked at her, she opened her eyes and smiled at him.
He thought he detected pity in that smile and was immediately resentful. He began to climb from the bed, but her hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Stay with me, Corum, for I need your comforting now.”
He paused, looked back at her suspiciously.
"Please, Corum, I believe that I love you."
He frowned. "Love? Between Vadhagh and Mabden? Love of that kind?" He shook his head. "Impossible. There could be no issue."
"No children, I know. But love gives birth to other things . . .”
"I do not understand you."
"I am sorry," she said. "I was selfish. I am taking advantage of you." She sat up in bed. "I have slept with no one else since my husband went away. I am not used . . .”
Corum studied her body. It moved him and yet it should not have. It was unnatural for one species to feel such emotion for another . . .
He reached down and kissed her breast. She clasped his head. They sank, again, into the sheets, making gentle love, learning of one another as only those truly in love may.
After some hours, she said to him, "Corum, you are the last of your race. I will never see my people again, save for those retainers who are here. It is peaceful in this castle. There is little that would disturb that peace. Would you not consider staying here with me—at least for a few months?"
"I have sworn to avenge the deaths of my folk," he reminded her softly, and kissed her cheek.
"Such oaths are not true to your nature, Corum. You are one who would rather love than hate, I know."
"I cannot answer that," he replied, "for I will not consider my life fulfilled unless I destroy Glandyth-a-Krae. This wish is not so hate-begotten as you might think. I feel, perhaps, like one who sees a disease spreading through a forest. One hopes to cut out the diseased plants so that the others may grow straight and live. That is my feeling concerning Glandyth-a-Krae. He has formed the habit of frilling. Now that he has killed all the Vadhagh, he will want to kill others. If he finds no more strangers, he will begin to kill those wretches who occupy the villages ruled by Lyr-a-Brode. Fate has given me the impetus I need to pursue this attitude of mine to its proper conclusion, Rhalina."
"But why
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