between unfettered dreaming and conscious control. In that state he was like a child playing with a toy boat in a stream. The boat was his mind and it went wherever the current took it, but he could only direct it with gentle nudges or by stirring the water, though he could simply pick the boat up if it ventured where he did not want it to go.
:Emerahl, he called. A long silence followed, then a groggy mind touched his.
:Mirar? Hmm, I am definitely out of practice. Shall I show you the dream? she asked.
:Take your time, he said. No need to hurry.
Instead of calming her, his words stirred a mixture of anxiety and agitation. Flashes of thought and images escaped her defense. He saw a scene that was unfamiliar in detail, but familiar in context. A sumptuous room. Beautiful women. Not so good-looking men in fine clothing appraising the women.
At the same time he sensed her desire to hide something from him, lest he be disappointed in her. He had seen enough to comprehend what that was, and felt a flash of anger. She’d done it again. She’d sold her body to men. Why did she do this to herself?
Then the familiar presence of another stirred in the back of his mind.
She is a whore? Leiard’s surprise at this news was tainted with disapproval.
She has been, from time to time, Mirar replied defensively. Always out of necessity.
And you… you have rescued her from that life before.
Yes.
Mirar realized he had drawn away from Emerahl’s mind. He had left the dream-trance state and was fully awake. From the other bed he heard a sigh, then the sound of the bed creaking.
“Mirar?” Emerahl murmured.
Drawing in a deep breath, he sat up and created a light. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her shoulders drooping. Looking up, she met his eyes then looked away.
“You did it again,” he said.
“I had to.” She sighed. “I was being hunted. By priests.”
“So you became a whore? Of all things, you had to choose such a demeaning…” He shook his head. “With your ability to change your age, why resort to that? Why not change into an old crone? Nobody would look twice at you? It’s got to be easier to hide as an old woman than a beautiful—”
“They were looking for a crone,” she told him. “An old woman healer. I couldn’t sell cures. I had to earn money somehow.”
“Then why not be a child? Nobody would suspect a child of being a sorceress, and people would feel compelled to help you.”
She spread her hands. “The change wastes me. You know that. If I’d gone back so far I’d have been too weak to fend for myself. The city was full of desperate children. I needed to be someone the priests wouldn’t want to look at too closely. Someone whose mind they wouldn’t attempt to read.”
“Read?” Mirar frowned. “Priests can’t read minds. Only the White can.”
She looked up at him and shook her head. “You’re wrong. Some can. One of the children I befriended overheard a conversation between priests about the one hunting me. They said he could, and that he was looking for a woman whose mind was shielded. The child wasn’t lying.”
Mirar felt his anger waver. If the gods could give the skill to the White, why not to a priest hunting a sorceress? He sighed. That did not make what she had done any less infuriating.
“So you became young and beautiful. A fine way to avoid drawing attention to yourself.”
She looked up at him and he saw her pupils enlarge with anger. “Are you suggesting I did it out of vanity? Or do you think I’m greedy, that I could not get enough of fine dresses and gold?”
He met and held her eyes. “No,” he said. “I think you could have avoided that life if you’d truly wanted to. Did you even try anything else?”
She did not answer. Her expression told him she hadn’t.
“No,” he said. “It is as if you are drawn to it, though you know it is harmful. I worry about you, Emerahl. I worry that you nurse some unhealthy need to hurt yourself. As if… as if you are punishing yourself out of… out of self-loathing, perhaps.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How dare you. You tell me it’s harmful and disapprove of me resorting to it again, but you have never hesitated to buy a whore’s services. I heard you once boast that you were such a regular