Two-Edged Blade

evidence of her senses, she’d have to account him as very experienced in a number of areas, with a formidable level of expertise.

Quite a difference from Daren.

At some point, the candle burned out, leaving only the fire for illumination; she hardly noticed. She saw him just as clearly with hands and mind as she did with her eyes.

One more thing that was different from Daren: incredible patience. It had been a very long time since her last lover; Eldan was understanding, and gentle—and made certain she was fully satisfied, sated, in fact, before taking his own pleasure, pleasure in which she joined, thrilled by the overwhelming urgency she felt rushing into her from his mind. He arched his back and cried out, then slowed, breathing ragged and spent, and came to rest atop her. They lay together entwined, and gradually Kero realized he was falling asleep and fighting it. She soothed the back of his neck with a delicate brush of fingertips, and he sighed at the wordless exchange and gave up the fight. He withdrew from her, gently and slowly, still aware of all the sensations of each others’ bodies. When she was certain he wasn’t going to wake, she carefully disengaged herself, found another dry piece of wood, and threw it on the fire, giving her a little more light to see by. She reached out and caught a corner of his bedroll, shook it out, and draped the blankets over both of them.

As she settled in beside him, she noticed the Companion stare at him and sigh, before turning toward the entrance of the cave in a “guard” stance. That was the last thing she saw as she fell asleep.

When she woke, Eldan was already awake and about; in fact, that was what had awakened her. Wisely, he did not attempt to move quietly—anything that sounded like “stealth” would have sent her lunging to her feet with a weapon in hand. She woke just enough to identify where she was, and who was with her—then enjoyed the unwonted luxury of taking her time about coming to full consciousness. There was no hurry; she certainly wasn’t going anywhere....

Especially not today. Today she was one long ache, from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. Just bruises and muscle aches, of course; the cuts would be half-healed scars by now. Or, more accurately, half-Healed scars. She suspected that the wounds she had taken had been a great deal worse when she’d gotten them—but one of Need’s attributes was that she Healed the bearer of just about anything short of a death-wound. She’d surreptitiously made certain that the sword was under her bedroll, well padded to avoid making a lump, before she’d undressed to have Eldan tend to her injuries. She didn’t have to be in physical contact with it for it to Heal her; it just had to be nearby, but under her bedroll was where she liked to put it when she had hurts that needed to be dealt with. She certainly would never have slept with a concussion without Need’s Healing.

She wondered what Eldan would make of her rapid recovery.

I hope he’ll just think a little self-Healing is one of my abilities. I’d rather not have him asking too many questions about Need. Grandmother said there was something odd about Heralds and magic, and I’d rather not find out what it is.

Eldan had set about organizing the cave into a place where they could stay comfortably for several days. Just now he was heaping bracken into a depression and covering it with a layer of grass, and after a moment, she figured out why. It was to be a bed, of course; much more comfortable than a couple of bedrolls on the cold stone floor. She watched him, blinking sleepily, as he laid her saddle and his own upside down to dry, and spread both horse blankets out to air.

“A nest, little hawk? You’re far more ambitious than I am,” she said with a yawn.

He looked up, and grinned. “Here,” he said, tossing her clothing. “It’s clean. I washed it all while you were asleep.”

She shrugged off the covers and ran a hand through her hair, grimacing at the feel of it. “I almost hate to get into clean clothing when I’m as dirty as I am.”

“That’s easily remedied, too,” he told her. “This is a limestone cave, and that means water. There’s a tiny trickle at the back of the cave. Enough to keep all of us supplied, and clean up a little, too.”

One of the things she’d stolen on her forays after food had been a bar of rough brown soap; harsh with lye, but it would get her clean. It had been in her packs; Eldan had evidently found it when he’d rummaged around looking for the medical supplies (such as they were). He handed the soap to her, with a scrap of cloth that had once been part of her shirt. He didn’t have much, besides his bedroll and some clothing.

“Come keep me company,” she said, heading to the back of the cave and the promised water. Sure enough, there was a little stream running across the back of it, in one side and out the other, with a rounded pool worn by its motion. Cold, too. She winced as she stuck her hand in it, but cold was better at this point than dirty.

“So how did you manage to find such attractive company?” she asked, as she scrubbed ruthlessly at dirt that seemed part of her, harsh soap, cold water, and all.

“Well, I was all tied up at the time—”

“I meant the Karsites, loon,” she said, splashing water at him. He ducked, and grinned.

“Be careful, or you’ll put out the candle,” he warned. “And I don’t have many. We really ought to make do with firelight. So, you want to know how I happened to be keeping company with Karsites? I’ll tell you what, you