some kind of initiation?”
“No,” said Pinion in a surly voice, though in fact he had been trying to scare Smith. “Just setting you straight on a few things, Caravan Master. I’d hate to see you so full of self-confidence you get us all killed your first day on the job.”
“Thanks a lot,” said Smith. The caravan went rumbling on, the featureless fields flew by, and after a moment Smith looked down at Pinion again.
“I did hear a story about the Greenlands, now that I come to think about it,” he said. “In a bar in Chadravac Beach, about six months ago. Something about a demon-lord. He’s supposed to be called the Master of the Mountain?”
Pinion blanched, but did not change expression. He shook his head, pedaling away stolidly.
“Don’t know anything about that,” he said firmly, and fell silent.
All that day they traveled across the yellow land. With no companion but the sun, they came at evening to the way station, marked out by a ring of white stones.
It was a wide circular area by the side of the road, with grooves for carts running off and grooves for running back on. There was a tiny stone hut surmounted by a windwheel pump, enclosing a basin where a trickle of water flowed, drawn up from deep beneath the plain. The moment they had rolled off the road and into the circle, the Yendri was out of his cart and staggering for the pump house. He monopolized it for the next quarter hour, to the great annoyance of the other passengers, who lined up behind the hut and made ethnically insulting remarks as they waited.
At least the diversion kept most of them occupied as Smith oversaw making camp for the night. He didn’t really have much to do; the keymen, long practiced in this art, had quickly trundled the carts in a snaked circle and set to erecting tent accommodations inside it. Burnbright and Mrs. Smith were busily setting up the kitchen pavilion, and politely implied that he’d only get in their way if he lent a hand there.
Smith noticed that Lord Ermenwyr was not among the carpers at the water pump, and he wondered whether he ought not to see if the lordling had died after all. As he approached the palanquin, the curtains parted and a woman slid out with all the grace of a serpent and dropped lightly to the ground.
Smith caught his breath.
That she was beautiful was almost beside the point. She had a presence. Her body was lush, tall, perfect, powerful. Her mouth was full and red, and her sloe-black eyes ought to have been sullen but glinted instead with lazy good humor as she saw Smith gaping at her.
“Good evening, Caravan Master,” she said, and the voice matched the body: sultry, yet with an indefinable accent of education and good breeding.
Smith just nodded, and collected himself enough to say, “I was coming to inquire after the lord’s health.”
“How nice. His lordship is still with us, I’m happy to say.” She tilted her head to one side and occupied herself a moment with loosely braiding her hair, which was black and thick as a bolt of silk. Having pulled it up into an elegant chignon, she drew from her bosom what appeared to be a pair of stilettos of needlelike fineness and thrust them through the glossy coils.
“I… uh … I’m very happy to hear that. We’re just setting up the tents now, if he’d like to rest,” said Smith.
“That’s very thoughtful of you, but my lord has his own pavilion,” the woman replied, opening one of the trunks and drawing out a bundle of black cloth patterned all over with little silver skulls.
“I’d be happy to help you, miss—”
“Balnshik,” said the woman, smiling. “Thank you so much, Caravan Master.”
What an exotic name, Smith thought dizzily, accepting the load of tent material while Balnshik bent over the trunk to rummage for poles. Something about the name suggested flint knives and attar of roses, and perhaps black leather … though she was modestly attired in white linen, and he dragged his attention back to the fact that she was a nurse, after all. She drew out a tent pole now and gave it a quick twist. In her deft hands it shot up and expanded to twice its length, spring-loaded.
“I’m—Smith,” he said.
“Of course you are, dear,” she told him. “Just spread that out on the ground, won’t you?”
He helped her assemble the pavilion, which was quite a large