lonely.
When Vinory settled back to sleep, she forgot again to raise her wards. A tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed man came to her and showed her visions of the times he'd led the dance. He was graceful and slim-legged, with broad shoulders and narrow, strong hands that he used to lead his partner to and fro in the complicated patterns. Vinory felt herself tapping her feet, wishing she could join in. It looked so tempting. The man passed within arm's reach of her. She called him by name.
'Samon?'
He turned as if to answer, stretching out a hand to her, his eyes agleam.... Then she woke up, with the fitful light from a lantern in her eyes.
'Sorry to wake you, mistress,' said Tarili, the baker. 'My wife's baby's coming. She needs you. The baby's turned wrong.'
'I'll come at once,' she said, groaning, Vinory roused herself, and let the dream fade from her mind as she gathered her medicines and paraphernalia. She could now feel the presence standing in the corner, disappointed.
When she returned after daybreak, exhausted, the spirit resumed its campaign to get her attention, hovering around her like a bee on a lilac bush.
'Oh, go away, Master Samon!' she groaned, half asleep already. 'I'm too tired to argue with you.'
'That's why I'm pushing you now,' he said, to her dreaming mind. 'Wouldn't you like to have someone to warm you? Winter is coming. You could have a babe of your own next summer.'
'I have a dozen babies! The villagers' children are my responsibility. You must not tie me down.' She could see his face again, an inverted triangle of ivory, with those dark, long-lashed eyes. She was afraid even in her dreams, but tempted. Samon was very strong-willed. And handsome.
When she woke several hours later, she was refreshed, and also resolute. Samon was dead. She, Vinory, must stay alive and clear her mind. That meant banishing the spirit who continued to trouble her.
She felt panic. But knew at once it wasn't her own.
'If you won't, or can't, go on your own, then I must help you along,' Vinory said, brutally. 'It's only logical, Master Samon.'
The presence sought to get between her and the book chest, but she just walked slap through him, ignoring the psychic shock she got from the contact.
She had seen a spell for setting free a trapped spirit in one of the handsomely made volumes that Samon had scribed for himself. Vinory thumbed through the books until she came to the one she remembered. It was a harsh enchantment. The rebound of the working would be hard on her, Vinory knew, but she could be rid of this nettlesome presence who awoke all sorts of feelings in her that she had no time for. She had what components were needed at hand. The text said the working must be done on Lammas Night. After that, he would be free, and so would she. She felt lucky that she had not come after Lammas. Otherwise it would be a whole year before she could send him away.
The spirit's panic was stronger than ever. Then, as she watched, the very pages of the tome turned over one by one, past the banishment spell, to another text. Vinory bent her head to read.
It was almost the same as the first, ridding a place of a troublesome spirit—but by locking it again into human form. The difference between the two spells was only a single word. She looked up involuntarily, as if Samon was sitting there across from her.
'You want me to re-embody you?' she asked. Feelings of joy and hope washed over her, then retreated at once, lest she chide him again for overwhelming her consciousness.
I could do it, Vinory thought, rereading the text. But do I want to? Samon has had his life—he's led it! But was his work done? Do I dare to make that decision, for or against? I serve Nature. But do I want so strong a man to push me out of my place just before the weather begins to turn?
Perhaps she was not as young as once she was; the thought of sleeping in cold caves and under the brush at waysides now bothered her. You're getting soft, she told herself. You're becoming too earthbound.
I was not earthbound enough, the presence felt at her. I lost my hold. It was too soon. Help me! It is my will.
She read the spells again, both of them, hoping for clues to what she should do. The spells lacked reference to the high gods, and took part of her as well as of the one who sought reinstatement in life. Were these evil spells? Would she imperil her soul by performing one or the other? And yet, she had to do something, or the dead mage would drive her insane with his fretting and pleading. Either banish or restore, but she must do one of them, no matter what it cost her. To harvest one must sacrifice, so the Lammas rite went. But did she want this harvest? A mage who was neither good nor evil, and yet neither dead nor alive. And yet he was a living being, deserving of her aid.
Vinory's sleep that night was troubled by Samon's entreaties. 'I will hold you in honor,' his spirit said in her dreams. He dropped to his knees before her, the dark eyes pleading. 'I will give you pride of place, and let you lead in all things, if I may live. Oh, lady, let me through!'
Honor. Samon could see all her thoughts. He knew the turmoil in her mind. How could Vinory hide anything from him? But did he mean it?
'I...I don't know if I can trust you, Master Samon,' she said at last, conscious even though her body was asleep. 'I'm afraid of what admitting you back into life will mean to me. I dare not undo what the gods have done. You should go on to the Summerlands beyond the Veil.'
'Not yet! Oh, I will be kind, lady. On pain of eternal condemnation, I swear it. I will give you all honor.'
'How can I believe it?' Vinory asked. 'You'll say anything so that I will open the Door on Lammas Night and let you through instead of banishing you forever.'
'See for yourself,' he said, taking both her hands between his as he continued to kneel before her. The impishness touched his eyes, and she felt like melting. He was so very handsome. 'If I lie, you can take other revenge upon me. To be mortal again has its own discomforts. It will at least be interesting to stand with you, for fair or foul.'
