Hellebore by Chris Cook

Summary: A headstrong sorceress and a young Amazon join forces to locate and destroy an ancient source of demonic power.

Tara wondered if Willow was aware of how... well, sexy, she looked. 'Oh come on,' she chided herself, 'how could she not know?'

If Tara's eyes were drawn to Willow's body first, she couldn't really blame herself, and judging by the subtle gasps around her, she wasn't the only one. Willow's shoulders, arms and chest were wrapped in a shimmering green fabric, thin overlapping layers of gauzy cloth, like the bindings of an Aranoch mummy but far more elegant and beautiful. The remarkable fabric itself, matching her eyes, would have turned heads alone, but it was the way that it stopped just low enough to decently cover her chest—in fact, Tara noticed as her heart hammered, the high cut of the material revealed just a hint of the swells of her breasts beneath it. Her body was bare down to the belt circling her hips, an expanse of perfectly smooth skin that made Tara gulp as her eyes followed the delicate curve of her waist and hips. From her belt, which was buckled at the center with an eye-catching white crystal set in silver, more of the diaphanous emerald fabric formed a tight skirt, solidly interwoven at the center then stretching out to either side, becoming slightly transparent as it hugged her hips and thighs the way Tara was suddenly imagining her hands doing. Her eyes darted over Willow for a moment, taking in the slim boots topped with silver bands, and the silver clasps at each wrist holding the ends of her sleeves tight, before settling on her face, framed by a silver diadem and her fiery, silky hair.

The minor nobility standing in groups around the dining hall practically fell over themselves to welcome her, bowing deeply and introducing themselves one by one in their most genteel manner. Willow smiled warmly at each one, inclining her head at their bows like a princess, allowing the daring souls among them to take her hand briefly in greeting. Tara wondered if it was her imagination, but she thought she saw Willow's eyes moving around the crowded hall in between introductions, searching for a familiar face. She realized she was staring. A moment later she realized she was still staring, and should probably do something about it. She resolved to return her attention to her companions at the table, in just a moment...

As Willow cleared the impromptu welcoming committee, Tara finally became aware of something else, a sudden murmur of surprise among the noblemen and Amazons around her. She glanced up the table to see the Baron rising to his feet, gesturing quickly for his nobles to follow suit. In the space of a few seconds the whole table was standing, falling in behind the Baron as he approached the young sorceress. She drew up short as she saw him, and he stopped a few paces from her.

"Our court is honored by your presence," the Baron said in a voice that carried to all who were listening. He held out a hand to her.

"The honor is mine," Tara barely heard her say, as she bowed and took his hand briefly. From where Tara stood, she thought the Baron looked slightly surprised—she recalled it was protocol to kiss the lord's hand, but Willow didn't appear to realize—but he recovered, and evidently took no offence, for he smiled widely as he swept an arm out to indicate the fellow diners crowded around him.

"The court, ma'am," he said graciously, as his wife stepped forward, shooting him an annoyed glance before smiling radiantly at Willow. The rest jostled their way into a line, which Willow slowly made her way along, with the Baron at her side making the introductions. Tara's stomach flipped itself over a few times as the pair worked their way down the line, getting nearer. She glanced quickly up and down the line, realizing that she had ended up as the first of the Amazons the Baron would reach—Tryptin's doing, certainly, subtly reinforcing her status for the other guests to see. He caught Tara's eye and gave her a reassuring wink.

"Our other guests this evening," the Baron intoned, snapping Tara's attention back to him and Willow, "a party of Amazons, no less, here to maintain the good relations between their nation and our city... oh, you would have traveled with them, of course. Well, perhaps you know some of them already." He glanced at Tara, earning another stern look from his wife as his eyes paused a little obviously on her chest before moving on—not that Tara was paying attention.

"Yes, we've met," said Willow with a warmer smile than those she'd made for the nobility. She took a step forward. 'Say something!' Tara's mind screamed at her, as she vaguely heard Willow's greeting.

"H-h-h-he... h-hello," she managed after an awkward pause, wondering which god had decided it would be fun to render her incapable of movement. Willow's smile faltered slightly, and she began to look confused as Tara desperately tried to make her voice work again. But then the Baron was introducing Tryptin, and Willow was drawn away, leaving Tara cursing her shyness and hoping for another chance to speak to her. When the Baron's table resumed their seats Willow was on the same side, but with half a dozen noblemen between them, so that it was difficult for Tara to get a glimpse of her.

Willow did her best to present an affable exterior to her neighbor at the table, but inwardly she was not happy. Her brief meeting with Tara kept replaying itself in her mind, preventing her from maintaining a conversation with the noblemen, a minor landowner who affected a great interest in magic, but clearly didn't know what he was talking about. She hadn't expected to be able to spend very much time with Tara during the meal—being an official occasion, the seating of the guests had been arranged, and she couldn't just have sat where she liked—but she had looked forward to snatching a brief moment here and there in Tara's presence, feeling the warmth of her smile that she had sorely missed since the previous evening. She hadn't been expecting Tara to look almost dismayed to see her—her friend's normally expressive face had frozen the moment Willow had reached her in the line, and she had barely answered when Willow had said hello. Far from being pleased, Tara had looked as if she had seen a ghost.

Willow found her thoughts turning against her, giving free rein to all her doubts. Had she been too obvious? She suddenly regretted her choice of clothing—it was Zann Esu, of course, but Tara wouldn't necessarily know that. What if she thought Willow had deliberately chosen it to, well, to try to arouse her? Willow had to admit that wasn't far from the truth—she had barely considered wearing her ceremonial robes, or the elaborate meditation dress that would probably have been exactly what the nobles would expect a sorceress to wear, she had merely imagined herself appearing to Tara in her emerald outfit, sparking some hint of desire in Tara, experiencing for real the warm tingling she felt when she imagined Tara's eyes on her, wanting her... Willow cursed herself for getting lost in her fantasies, not thinking things through—she hadn't even stopped to consider the possibility that Tara wasn't interested in her that way. That night over dinner, when she had mentioned that most Amazons married men—Willow remembered how Tara had stuttered out her answer, when she asked whether that was always the case. She had thought, hoped, it might have been nervousness, but... 'Oh gods,' Willow's thoughts moaned, 'what if she- if it wasn't nerves, what if she's not comfortable with even the idea? Just because her people in general are doesn't mean she is, and now I've gone and flashed my half-naked body in front of her, and she knows, and she doesn't even want to talk to me...' Willow's fists clenched as she fought the straining muscles in her face that wanted her to close her eyes and cry. The noblemen at her side was still chattering aimlessly to her; the other chair, reserved for the Baron's mage, was empty—'Probably doesn't want to waste his time with me,' Willow thought, knowing she was languishing in her hurt feelings and not caring. Willow turned her attention to the boring man, and was probably more interested in his inaccurate observations about magic than he deserved, just in gratitude for the distraction he offered.

Tara was unusually distant through dinner, offering only curt responses to her neighbors' attempts to start a conversation as her thoughts turned inward. While reaching to the platters in the middle of the table she managed to get fleeting glimpses of Willow, though she never caught her eye. Tara could tell she was upset—there was something about the set of her jaw, and the slight manufactured look to her smile as she chatted with the man beside her, that Tara felt she could read like a book. Tara speared a piece of potato with her fork, unnecessarily viciously, and blamed herself entirely. Willow had probably been looking forward to seeing her, assuming she had been cooped up all day with nothing to do, and the best Tara could offer her was a stuttered 'hello', not even taking her hand, as a friend should—gods, the few people at home she had genuinely disliked, she had offered more courtesy to when she happened to meet them. Tara imagined how she must have seemed to Willow: armored and armed, the image of a warrior, betraying no hint of feeling. She wondered, caught between hope and a dark moodiness, whether she might get a chance to talk to Willow soon, or whether the sorceress would take the hint Tara had unwittingly given, chalk her up as an emotionless warrior, and keep out of her way.

Dinner seemed to pass quickly, and most of the guests had finished their plates by the time the Baron laid down his fork and motioned for them to rise, if they wished. Tara saw Willow get up, and pushed away her own plate, hoping to dodge through the crowd and catch her before she left. But Willow headed directly away from her, not towards the doors, leaving Tara confused—was she leaving, or avoiding her, or what?—and a moment later she found her view blocked by one of the Baron's attendants.

"Ma'am," he said with a bow, "the dancing will commence shortly. Normally women would wait for their partners to choose them, but in your case," he looked uncomfortable, "the Baron would not ask you to submit to such a requirement."

"What?" asked Tara vaguely, trying to look over the man's shoulder to see Willow, among the other diners who had all got to their feet in anticipation of the dance. The sorceress seated herself on one of the long benches at the side of the hall, not far from where the ladies, in a selection of elaborate dresses, were gathering.

"Your diplomat suggested," the attendant continued, "and the Baron has agreed, that you might select your partner? Several of our distinguished nobles have expressed interest, so if you would care to choose your dance partner...?" He gestured to some of the nobles, who were hanging back from the general movement across the hall, where men were bowing and offering their hands to the ladies, the couples taking their place for the dance.

"Yes," said Tara brightly, "present my thanks for the Baron's courtesy, and I will choose a partner." She handed her spear and bow to Melcan, hovering at her side for that purpose, and set off across the hall, heading for Willow.

About half-way the boldness of her sudden idea caught up with her, and she faltered. What if Willow had been too offended by her lack of courtesy earlier? After failing to even greet her properly, as a friend should, did she dare to just walk up to her and ask her to dance? She slowed, noticing as she neared Willow that one or two of the nobles were likewise closing in on her. One, in fact, was turning from her, a disappointed look on his face, and as Tara watched another bowed, spoke to her, and nodded graciously as she gave a brief smile and shook her head. Clearly Willow didn't even want to dance, Tara decided, so she should just turn around and walk away. While she had been debating with herself, though, her feet had been carrying her forwards, and by the time she had resolved not to embarrass herself and upset Willow further, it was too late, and Willow had already noticed her approach.

"Tara?" she said, her expression unreadable—not displeased, not angry, but with too much going on behind her eyes for Tara to guess at her thoughts. She drew to a halt in front of the sitting sorceress, and for want of a better idea, bowed and held out a hand, just as the nobles were doing.

"W-would you c-care to-to... d-dance?" she said, gulping down the nerves that were threatening to make her tongue trip over itself. There was a moment when Willow's expression changed, when she was clearly moving from her unreadable mood to something else, but in that instant Tara couldn't tell what, and she felt pulled in all directions by her emotions, hoping for joy, fearing rejection, worrying about what she might be jeopardizing. Then a grin appeared, spread into a wide, brilliant smile, Willow's eyes sparkled, and she took Tara's hand. Tara felt as though everything was right in the world as she walked into the middle of the hall where the couples were gathering, Willow's arm looped around her elbow and her fingers sneaking between Tara's. A murmur went around the hall as the assembled nobles saw the new couple taking the floor, and Tara glanced at Tryptin, wondering belatedly—though not really caring very much—if she was scandalizing the court. She was reassured to see him suppressing a grin at the astonished looks on the faces of the nobles near him.

The style of the moment in the Baron's court seemed to be a fairly relaxed sort of dance—Willow had read an account from Ember's notebook of the elaborate, ritual-like dances that had been held in her time, but evidently they had fallen out of favor. With a surreptitious glance at the couples around her, Tara took Willow's left hand in her right, slipped her other hand around Willow's waist, and smiled as Willow's other hand negotiated her shoulder armor for a moment before settling just below it. The court musicians struck up a gentle, cheerful melody, and the dance began.

"I was a bit worried when I saw you," Willow murmured, resting her head against Tara's unarmored shoulder, "you looked so... serious, before."

"You look s-so..." Tara tried to find the right word, and could only think of: "beautiful."

"I- thank you," Willow said quietly, straightening a little so she could meet Tara's gaze. "I'm sorry I got upset, it's just... well, you know, a boring day doing nothing but reading and not being able to even talk to you. I guess I got a little nervous too." Her smile turned impish. "But seeing as I ended up dancing with the loveliest warrior in the castle, it was worth it."

"W-well, it's only fair," said Tara, her head spinning from the compliment, "seeing as I'm dancing with the loveliest lady." Willow's smile was worth crossing the Great Ocean for.

"Heh," she chuckled quietly, "I don't think a lady would wear an outfit like this."

"I-I bet they w-wish they could," said Tara, surprising herself both with her boldness, and that her shyness didn't keep her from meeting Willow's look and maintaining her most appealing smile. Willow took advantage of a turn in the dance to slip a little further into Tara's embrace.

"Mmm-hmm," Willow quietly replied, "Zann Esu battlegear." Tara glanced down, and Willow straightened again, seeing her curious expression.

"I'm a sorceress, remember?" she teased. "We don't get up close and personal with monsters much. And if we do, there're spells to protect us. Besides, this," she said gently drawing Tara's right hand down to her stomach, "is where the magic comes from, the center of the body. It helps to keep it... unimpeded."

Tara nodded wordlessly. She could feel her fingers trembling as Willow held her hand against her skin—and was it her imagination, or did Willow keep her hand there a little longer than necessary, and press it gently against herself before letting go? Rather than take Tara's hand again, Willow slipped both arms around her waist, as the music changed to something a little slower, more intimate, and the couples around them drew closer. Tara was suddenly even more aware of how close Willow was to her, and that her hands were now wrapped around her bare waist, against her back, holding her in a way that, dance or no dance, was definitely intimate. Until this evening she would have danced with Willow like this, as a friend, and held her like this with nothing more than platonic affection... but now she knew, for sure, that the heat she was feeling was more than the warmth of friendship, it was desire. And, despite the doubts that were nagging at her, she was starting to think that Willow felt it too.

Willow again rested her head on Tara's shoulder, this time tightening her embrace. Tara barely suppressed a visible shudder as she first felt Willow's breasts brush hers through the layers of fabric between them, then press against her as Willow snuggled into her arms. The music had slowed to a soft, gentle pace, as those dancers who participated for show or fun drifted off to converse with other guests, and the remaining couples held each other close, with only the occasional comment murmured into a partner's ear as they moved. Tara was aware, in a distant sort of way, that a number of the spectators were staring at her and Willow, surprised and perhaps amused at the novelty of seeing two women dance together, but she didn't care. All she cared about was in her arms, moving in time with her, her hands radiating warmth through the material of Tara's tunic.

'Perhaps,' Tara thought, 'perhaps she feels it too... if the skin on her back tingles beneath my hands... if she can't help but feel every slight movement of my body... if she feels as blessed holding me as I do holding her...' For Tara, surprised a day ago to have found friendship, it was almost too much to hope for... but she dared hope.

She leaned her head gently down to where Willow's head rested on her shoulder, brushing her cheek against Willow's hair, and felt such contentment as she had never felt before. At last, she knew she was where she was meant to be, doing what she was meant to do, and all the worries in the world had no power as long as she and Willow danced. She closed her eyes, and the warmth she felt seemed to wrap around her, holding her, cradling her in its arms, lifting her...

There were audible gasps from the crowd of spectators, and the musicians faltered, but in Tara's mind there was music, and she didn't even open her eyes when she realized her feet no longer touched the ground.

"Is it magic?" she whispered to Willow, luxuriating in the absence of anything but the woman in her arms.

It was past midnight when the great hall finally emptied. Willow and Tara found themselves in the south wing of the castle, where the Amazons were quartered, most of whom were still awake and talking in the common room. In the few steps leading up to the door Tara wondered whether it would be too forward to invite Willow in, but Willow's hand on her arm stilled her.

"Y-you're tired," Tara agreed, noticing her companion suppress a yawn, not the first on their walk back from the hall.

"Yeah, I didn't sleep so well," Willow admitted, "you know, unfamiliar bed and all. But I'll see you tomorrow?" She hesitated, and Tara had a sudden urge to insist she stay, sleep at her side, wake in her arms. But on its heels came an understanding: she wasn't skirting the edge of failure with Willow, and she didn't need to rush to make everything perfect like a fairy tale. She nodded, and quickly, while the feeling of contentment lasted, enveloped Willow in a hug that was pure friendship.

"I should go," Willow repeated, with a little smile. "But," she added, her words coming out in a rush, "just so you know I don't want to-"

She leaned forward, tilting her face up just a fraction so that the last words were breathed onto Tara's lips. The kiss that followed was brief, an instant just long enough for both pairs of lips to part a fraction, then Willow was stepping back with a wide, satisfied smile, and hurrying away down the corridor. Tara just stood there, watching her go with bemused amazement, and it was a good few seconds before she could think of anything but how soft Willow's lips had been.

Willow awoke with a start, kicking her legs free of the sheets before she remembered where she was, and the urge to run, to find safety, vanished. She shook her head ruefully and ran a hand through her hair, which had somehow managed to become tangled since she had gone to sleep. 'It can't have been that long,' she grumbled to herself, noting both her lingering tiredness, and the early morning sun just creeping over the battlements beyond her window. 'How does hair do this?' She got out of bed, discarded her flimsy nightgown in favor of a thick, warm robe, and sat in front of the mirror, brushing her hair back to a decent state. And remembering her dream.

It had begun innocently enough, with her wanderings carrying her through the gardens of the Church, with birdsong and the crunching of the gravel beneath her bare feet the only sounds. The sun was bright in the sky, casting golden light across the flowers... then the flowers were all around her, covering the ancient stonework of the cloister, carpeting the ground in a soft bed of color. And the golden sunlight became golden hair, which Willow ran her hands through and buried her face in, laughing with joy as she felt Tara's arms around her. The flowers were like silk beneath them as they lay together, side by side, Willow marveling at the flawless skin beneath her fingers, as she ran her hand down Tara's side, across her waist, down her thigh... Tara pressed up against her, her leg resting over Willow's hip, her toes trailing along the backs of Willow's legs, and Willow reached back and ran her hand all the way along Tara's leg, right down to her toes, then back up again. Tara stretched her arm out above her head, and Willow trailed her touch all the way up her body, over her shoulder, up along her arms to her fingertips. She could feel Tara shivering in delight, could see the anticipation in her sapphire blue eyes...

Then she had rolled over, and the warmth of Tara's body behind her was receding. The color of the flowers was fading, and then the irregular surface wasn't flowers anymore, but stone, debris from the shattered columns and broken walls of the building around her. She felt a gaze on her back, but she didn't want to roll back over, because she knew the eyes weren't Tara's...

"Well damn," she said to herself, brushing viciously, "if I'm going to have nightmares, at least the good part could last longer." She gave a lop-sided grin to the image of herself in the mirror, but couldn't quite shake off the lingering unease the dream had left her with. Sure, she had had nightmares since- when she had been recalled to the Church, but they had faded with time, naturally, leaving Willow with nothing more than an annoying tendency to sleep lightly, which she was inclined to blame as much on traveling as on her mind's night-time meanderings. But they had been just bad dreams, easily swept away by the morning light, and a refreshing splash of water over her face when she washed. This time she still had a nagging feeling that she should be looking over her shoulder.

"Heigh-ho," she said to herself, making light of her unease as she checked her robe was decently tied around her and pulled the bell-cord for a servant. She changed into her traveling clothes as the servant departed towards the kitchens to bring her early breakfast and a bath, packing away her green outfit. That drew her thoughts to the previous night, and she resolved to visit the Amazons' quarters and see if she could spend the morning with Tara, before she would have to meet the mage and see what he could teach her.

As it happened, she met Tara half-way across the garden-courtyard between the south wing of the castle, where the Amazons were, and the keep, where Willow's room was. Willow waved unnecessarily as they neared each other, and felt her spirits soar as she noticed the smile that spread across Tara's face as she saw her.

"Me too!" Willow grinned. "Coming to see you, I mean. 'Cause I saw me already, in the mirror when I woke up, morning hair and all..." She shrugged, feeling suddenly and uncharacteristically shy. Tara, on the other hand, seemed bolder than usual, as she stepped closer and ran her fingers through Willow's hair.

"It's just lulling you into a false sense of security," Willow joked. Tara giggled, which made Willow laugh too. A group of servants hurried through the garden, and Tara took Willow's arm and led her off the path. Willow sat beside Tara on one of the low stone walls surrounding the raised flowerbeds, pleased that Tara's hand dropped down her arm to her hand, but didn't let go.

"I can't stay too long," Tara sad reluctantly, "I'm supposed to go with the Baron and some of his noblemen on a hunt." She gestured at the end of the bow sticking up over her shoulder.

"Well..." Willow hesitated. "I could ride with you, that wouldn't be so bad. Then if I got dizzy or anything I could hold on to you."

"Oh, no," Willow said with mock-seriousness, "I bet I'd have to hold on to you all the time. Can't take chances with horses." Tara grinned.

"Maybe," Willow replied, drawing the word out longer than it needed to be, eliciting another laugh from Tara. 'Hey, look at me,' she thought, 'I'm flirting! Who'd ha' thought it?' "Why, is there some penalty for flirting with an Amazon?"

"Yep," said Tara triumphantly, "now you have to go with me to the Baron's feast in two days. I-if you want to," she added, her teasing smile replaced by a hopeful look.

"I'd love to!" Willow exclaimed, squeezing Tara's hand. "Thank you, I'd love to," she repeated.

"Great," Tara said, smiling shyly at being the cause of Willow's joy. "S-so, do you know what you'll be studying today? It is today, isn't it? The Baron's mage?"

"Midday," confirmed Willow, "yep. I don't know yet, I haven't even seen him so far. Ember wrote a few notes about him on the scroll the Order gave me, but I don't think she ever met him. Just that he's part of the western Vizjerei clan. They're pretty eclectic, according to her notebook, she met a few of them years ago."

"The western clan are just about the only group of mages to really settle out here in Westmarch," Willow explained, "so they've sort of got the whole place to themselves. Not like Kehjistan, there's practically the whole set of clans and orders within a hundred miles. Vizjerei, the new Horadrim, the reformed Zakarum scholars, the Ennead and the Ammuit, the Zann Esu, plus there's necromancers lurking down south somewhere... the whole continent is full of what we call nodes, places where magic is amplified. Everyone sticks to their own discipline and mostly pretends the other clans don't exist... but out here it's just the western clan, so they study whatever they like. Some elemental effects, some prime magic, alchemy, holy magic, Ember says there's even some druidic influences around. There's no-one to really look over their shoulder, so they research whatever looks promising."

"I'll tell you all about it," Willow promised. She noticed movement beyond the archway leading from the garden to the main courtyard. "I think your hunting adventure is getting ready," she said, not without a touch of sadness. Tara glanced behind herself, seeing the Baron's horse being readied, and several noblemen with bows meandering around.

"Well, have fun," Willow said, trying a smile and finding that it came easily when she did it for Tara. Tara squeezed her hand, then let go as she stood up. Willow's hand brushed in the flowers by her side, as she looked up at Tara, who was radiant with the morning sun behind her. "Be careful," she added suddenly, not sure why.

"I will," Tara said seriously, gazing into Willow's eyes. "Is e-everything okay?"

"I'm fine," Willow said, waving a hand dismissively, "I just woke up feeling a bit off-center. It's nothing." She stood, and impulsively leaned forward and kissed Tara on the cheek—nothing extravagant, just a reminder of how a few minutes with her had brightened Willow's whole day. Tara touched her cheek, smiling beautifully.

"I-I'll see you soon," she said, still smiling. Willow nodded and sat back down on the flowerbed wall. Tara took a step backwards, started to turn away, then turned back to Willow and took two quick steps, bringing her directly in front of Willow. Before Willow could think Tara's hands were cupping her cheeks, turning her face gently to meet Tara's as she leaned down. Their lips touched, pressed together, and Willow's eyes fluttered closed as she felt Tara's mouth open and her tongue graze across her lips. Willow couldn't think, couldn't react, couldn't summon the presence of mind to bring her hands up from where they were resting at her sides... in fact, couldn't do anything but open her mouth, feeling as if her whole body had turned to jelly and Tara's hands gently, firmly holding her head were the only thing stopping her from sliding off her perch on the wall and melting into a puddle on the ground. Tara tilted her head sideways, deepening the kiss, her tongue brushing over the tips of Willow's teeth, gingerly exploring her mouth, darting in to touch her tongue. Willow completely forgot where she was and moaned into Tara's mouth, making no attempt to silence herself. With a final swirl Tara's tongue departed, and her lips closed for a moment on Willow's bottom lip, sucking gently, pulling ever so slightly as Tara pulled back, then letting go. Tara stood up straight, and Willow stayed absolutely motionless for a moment before her eyes opened and she took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I'll be back soon," Tara said, with a smile that was quite restrained under the circumstances.

"Yeah..." Willow said again. She didn't move except to watch Tara as she turned and headed towards the main courtyard. 'Oh gods,' she was thinking, 'oh gods...' With considerable effort she composed herself, and managed to make her legs work before she fell off the wall. 'Well,' she thought to herself, 'let's hear it for flirting.'

Tara waited until she was sure she was out of sight from the garden, then leaned back against the courtyard's wall and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She had no real idea why she'd chosen that moment to kiss Willow, except that it had seemed like the best possible idea in the world. Any doubt, which had been entirely overridden in the moment, about whether she was moving faster than Willow wished was entirely erased by the look of pure delight on the Sorceress's face as she left.

'I did that,' Tara thought dazedly, 'that look was because of me. I kissed her, and then she looked so happy... I make her happy.' That thought, even more than the searing memory of the kiss itself, made Tara shiver with pleasure, and she was glad that none of the nobles had yet noticed her, because she was sure her expression was hiding nothing. She took a deep breath, and noticed a slight warmth between her legs, underneath her leather skirt. 'Oh goddess, I got wet from a kiss!' she thought giddily. She couldn't stop herself from shivering again, then she wondered if she should go back to her quarters and change her underwear. But no, she told herself she was being silly—it was barely a hint, far less than she was sure she'd be sweating once the hunt got underway. Besides, going back to her quarters would mean going back through the garden, where she'd probably find Willow, and then the Baron and his noblemen would have to pry her away with a crowbar.

She took a moment to turn her grin to something less gleeful, then made her way across to the Baron's party with a spring in her step. The Baron himself had arrived, and was busy greeting the nobles. Tara held back a moment, observing them—the Baron seemed to stand far less on ceremony than he had at the dinner, conversing with the others as if they were just friends out for a ride. He noticed Tara, and waved her over.

"Lady Tara," he said—Tara noticed some of the noblemen wince at his loud voice, and guessed they were nursing hangovers—"glad you'll be joining us. Show us some of that famous Amazon skill, eh? Stefan here is our best archer," he added, clapping a hand jovially on the shoulder of a tall, middle-aged man with long gray hair. He bowed to Tara and held out his hand.

"A pleasure," he said as Tara shook his hand, "if you can find the time, I'd appreciate a contest."

"That'll be something to see," the Baron interjected. He drifted off to welcome some more colleagues who were just arriving. Stefan stayed at Tara's side, showing polite interest as she selected a length of fire spinner silk and bent the bow back to string it. They exchanged bows for a moment, Stefan marveling at the craftsmanship of the Amazon weapon, Tara running a practiced eye over his bow, and noting that it was a strong design, perhaps lacking a little finesse, but certainly more refined than it looked on first sight. He thanked Tara and wandered off towards the Baron as a groom brought Tara a horse from the stables, which he said was called Kestrel. The horse dipped her head to let Tara stroke her long face, and Tara talked quietly in the horse's ear for a moment, letting her hear the sound of her voice. She was a friendly creature, and Tara found she was looking forward to a day's riding as she and the Baron's party mounted their steeds and headed through the main gate, with a pair of guards bringing up the rear.

Ahead of Tara the Baron's horse jumped a low ditch easily. Tara felt Kestrel's muscles bunching with power, then for a moment they were flying, before the horse's hooves touched the ground on the other side and she continued her gallop in the Baron's wake. Tara couldn't restrain a whoop of joy as they took the next jump—she had never before ridden so fast, with the wind in her face and her hair streaming out behind her. Riding at home, when it had been necessary, had always been fairly sedate: journeys to the outer villages too long to make on foot, but on the twisting paths through the forest it wasn't easy to guide a horse too fast. Now she put her weight on the stirrups and rose up just a fraction out of the saddle, one hand loosely holding the reins, the other steadying her balance on the horse's neck, and she smiled widely as she felt the air fly around her. 'Of course,' she admitted to herself, 'it's not just the riding.'

The Baron reined in his steed as the party finished crossing the castle's fields and reached the edge of a dense wood. Tara reluctantly swung herself off Kestrel's back, handing the reins to the groom who would watch the horses as they went deeper into the trees on foot. The Baron wasn't what Tara would call a precise hunter—he obviously knew a fair bit about the wood, which he had no doubt hunted in all his life, but he made no effort to hide his presence from the wildlife, crashing through the undergrowth and calling out to his nobles at the top of his voice. Most glimpses they had were of animals already beating a hasty retreat, but the Baron was enjoying himself. They meandered around, occasionally pausing when someone saw a beast that hadn't already made itself scarce, but they were usually so far away that when the hunter who spotted it fired his arrow, it landed short, or flew well wide of the mark. The Baron himself, in one of his rare quiet moments, had the fortune to spot a deer not far off, but he identified it as a female and moved on. Stefan told Tara that the Baron, unlike some of his predecessors, wouldn't hunt females or young, and also unlike most nobles had actually taken the time to learn to tell them apart by sight.

They paused in a clearing for lunch, emptying the bags carried by the servants trailing behind the hunting party of bread rolls and leftover meats from the previous evening's dinner. Some of the nobles were quite surprised to learn that Tara didn't eat meat, but the Baron merely shrugged jovially and handed her some cheese to go with the bread. No-one talked to her very much as they ate, but Tara didn't mind—they weren't being impolite, she decided, they just seemed a little wary of her. Besides, the bread was excellent, with juicy berries baked into it, and Tara's mind was on other things. Afterwards, though, Stefan engaged her in a discussion on the relative merits of short and longbows, which drew in the Baron and a few others, and their general nervousness about interacting with an Amazon seemed to drain away—at least, Tara observed, they no longer acted as if she was liable to explode or declare an oath of vengeance for no reason.

After a short while the Baron decided they should resume the hunt, and now he and his companions moved more stealthily. Tara was inclined to revise her opinion of him—he obviously knew how to blend in to the forest, to mask his noise and presence, he just didn't make it a priority at all times, as if he enjoyed the experience of the hunt more than just the successful pursuit of game. Without the ruckus they had earlier been making, the party soon spied a lone stag not far away, and the Baron waved Tara up to where he stood, half-hidden by a tree.

"Would you care for a chance?" he asked quietly. Tara wasn't in any hurry to kill the animal—Amazons never hunted to the kill for sport, only for food—but that thought prompted an idea in her mind, and she nodded and drew her bow. Without making a sound she drew an arrow from her quiver—one of the castle armory’s, for she had decided against using her own Amazon-made arrows. She drew back the bowstring and gazed along the length of the shaft, fixing her eyes on the animal beyond.

"I have it," she said after a moment's stillness, and slowly let the tension out of the bow.

"Amazons don't kill unless it's for food," Tara explained, "or defense. When we hunt for sport or practice, we only do it until we have a clear shot." She made her face a mask of professionalism, but the Baron seemed more curious than upset.

"Forgive my asking," he said, "but how do you know you'd have made the shot? No disrespect to your skills, of course."

"None taken," said Tara graciously. She glanced at the ground, and bent down to scoop up a small stone. She took the ribbon that had been tied around the necks of her arrows and looped it securely around the stone, knotting it tightly and handing it to the Baron.

"If you would, Baron, swing that as far as you can," she asked. He shrugged and took a few steps back, making sure he had room to swing the makeshift projectile without hitting anyone. Tara examined her stock of arrows for a moment before selecting one. Its weight was very close to those she was familiar with, and the flex in its shaft was very close to perfect. "Your craftsmen make good arrows, Baron," she observed, nocking it and drawing her bow, keeping it pointed at the ground.

"We know the value of good archery," the Baron answered. He then swung the stone around his head twice before releasing it off to one side of Tara. She was already screening out the distractions, the breathing of the Baron and the nobles, the shapes of the trees, the small sounds of animals moving, and leaves rustling in the breeze. She turned and fired in one smooth motion, almost able to see the flight of the receding stone, and the curve of her arrow as she launched it. The trailing ribbon jerked in the air, dragged off its course, and a cheer went up from the noblemen.

"No offence, Stefan," said another of the men to the old archer, "but my money's going to be on her bow."

"I fear I'll be outmatched," Stefan admitted, "but I'd still like that contest, if you're willing."

"Of course," Tara smiled, glad that her stunt had gone so well—she had gambled that her skill combined with the novelty of Amazon ways would prove more entertaining to the Baron and his men than bringing down the stag would have. Even as she smiled, though, her mind was still drifting through the frame of thought she entered whenever she practiced, seeing the world as shapes and speeds, translating all sight and sound into a field of objects at rest and in motion. She didn't even think as she leant back, her hand flashing out beside her, closing around something, and turning as its momentum spun her for a moment.

The Baron and his nobles were struck silent, as was Tara, as she slowly uncoiled her fingers from around the crossbow bolt she held. She blinked at it, uncomprehending—she hadn't even been aware of danger, she had acted entirely by instinct. Her mind snapped back to reality, and she dropped the bolt, which in turn seemed to snap her companions out of their own shock.

"Guards!" roared the Baron, drawing his sword, "over there! Go!" He stepped around Tara, standing between her and the unseen attacker as the two guards, and several noblemen, crashed through the undergrowth. Tara peered over the Baron's shoulder, seeing a man in dark green clothes scramble up from the ground, start to run, trip over something, and regain his feet too late as the guards reached him. Then the Baron was turning back to her.

"Lady Tara," he said sincerely, "I... am deeply shocked... you are a guest at my castle, my home, and... had you not been able to-" he broke off, then resumed: "I will find out what is behind this, I promise you!"

Tara nodded dumbly, unable to speak. She clenched her hands, trying to stop them shaking, as the Baron turned again to stare towards where his guards were none too gently hauling their captive back towards them. There was shouting from off to the west, where the sun was starting to slant through the tree branches, and more guards, leading horses, appeared. Their captain spotted the Baron and passed the reins of his horse to another guard, sprinting to his lord as quickly as he could.

"Baron," he panted, "you must come back to the castle... you must-" he paused to gulp a breath of air.

"Your mage, sire," the captain said, "he attacked someone- he'd been doing black magic, sire!"

The Baron stared at the captain for a moment, dumbfounded, then strode past him and commandeered one of the horses the guards had brought. Tara sprinted after him, none of the men protesting as she took a horse and urged it on, following the Baron as fast as she could through the woods, all thoughts of her own close escape replaced by a cold fear for what she might find back at the castle.

Tryptin and several of the Amazon merchants were waiting in the castle courtyard as the Baron rode in, with Tara on his heels. Tara reined in and jumped to the ground, leaving it to the grooms to take her horse to the stables as she sprinted across to the Amazons. The Baron was already dismounting, his chief advisor at his side, talking quickly.

"Where's Willow?" Tara asked before Tryptin could say anything. He seemed surprised at her question.

"She was in our common room a few minutes ago," he said, "she came asking whether you had returned not long ago, and I said she could wait there, if she liked."

"The Baron's guard said that his mage had attacked someone," Tara explained quickly, "she was going to spend the afternoon with him, I thought-"

"She's fine," Tryptin reassured her, "she didn't seem upset, she certainly wasn't hurt." Tara took a deep breath to steady herself, feeling some of the tension drain out of her.

"I'll speak with the Baron," Tryptin went on, "find out what's going on. Did his guard say anything else?"

"Only that the mage attacked someone, and something about black magic," Tara said. A second group of riders came through the gate, noblemen and guards, one with a bound prisoner held on the saddle in front of him. Tryptin glanced at them, then turned his attention back at Tara.

"H-he shot at us," Tara said, "at me." It felt odd to think it had happened barely a quarter of an hour ago—Tara's sudden fear for Willow had pushed the attack out of her mind, and throughout the ride back to the castle she had thought of nothing else.

"No, I-I'm fine," Tara said. Tryptin stared at her for a moment, then glanced around the courtyard.

"Why don't you go back to our quarters," he said, "Willow's probably still there. I'll speak with the Baron, and we'll... get this sorted out." Tara nodded, suddenly grateful for the chance to get away from all the people bustling around her. She noticed Tryptin's grim expression, though.

"Um, the Baron," she said, just as he was about to turn away, "h-he was... after the first shot, he shielded me. I-in case there was another. I... could you thank him?"

"I will," Tryptin said shortly, but Tara could see he appreciated what the Baron had done. He motioned to one of the merchants, a solidly-built man who Tara knew could handle his sword as well as a soldier. The he hurried towards the Baron, and Tara made her way through the gardens to the south wing. The merchant stayed with her, a few steps behind, and waited outside when they reached the common room.

Willow was sitting on a bench on the other side of the room, staring idly out of the window. She turned when she heard the door, and her face lit up when she saw Tara. Seeing her here, unhurt, seemingly carefree, Tara suddenly felt like crying as the tense knot in her stomach unwound itself. Willow saw her expression, and leapt up to meet her halfway as she crossed the room. Tara enveloped her in a tight hug, burying her face in Willow's hair, taking a deep breath of her scent and letting it out in a joyful sob.

"Wh-what's wrong?" Willow asked, wrapping her arms around Tara and stroking her back.

"Nothing," Tara cried softly, "nothing's wrong... I-I was worried, that's all..." She took a calming breath and released Willow just enough to look into her eyes. She saw the sudden concern and anxiety there, and smiled to reassure her.

"I'm alright, Willow," Tara said soothingly. "I was... well, while we were hunting someone shot at us... but I'm fine, I'm perfectly okay!" she insisted, as Willow's eyes widened in shock.

"Shot at you?" Willow squeaked. Her eyes darted over Tara's body, inspecting her as best she could, given that she seemed entirely reluctant to move any further away from her. Tara left one hand around Willow's waist, and used the other to cup her cheek and draw her eyes back up.

"You're shot at, and you worry about me?" Willow asked. "Tara, what's going on?" Keeping an arm around Tara's waist, Willow maneuvered her over to one of the padded lounges in the corners of the room and sat her down. She caught the end of one of her trailing sleeves and used it to gently wipe away Tara's tears. Tara gazed at her adoringly for a few seconds before she remembered it was her turn to talk.

"Nope. I waited for an hour, but he didn't show up, and none of the servants were any help- why, has something happened to him?"

"I don't know," admitted Tara. "The guard who brought us in from the hunt said that he'd attacked someone, and he'd been doing black magic."

"You're kidding!" exclaimed Willow. "No, of course you're not... gods... he attacked someone... and you thought I was...?"

"I'm fine," Willow said firmly, "I never even saw him. Black magic... who said that? The guard?" Tara nodded.

"I don't think he saw anything," she ventured, "I think he was just told what to tell the Baron, and bring him back to the castle."

"Probably," Willow mused. Without quite realizing it she had let her sleeve fall, and ended up resting her palm against the side of Tara's face, stroking her cheek with her thumb. "'Black magic' is really just a layman's term," Willow said, "magic is what it does, not good or evil on its own... I wonder what he did?"

"Good," Willow said firmly. Tara recognized the fierce protectiveness in her eyes, and felt warmed by it. She took advantage of Willow shifting her position on the chair to move closer to her, draping her arm over her waist. Willow grinned and curled up to Tara's side, still stroking her cheek tenderly.

"Um, not quite," Tara admitted, "I caught the crossbow bolt." Willow's eyes widened again.

"Um, it's something we're trained for," Tara explained. "Being aware enough of everything around you that you can sense an arrow in flight."

"How do you train for something like that?" Willow asked. "I mean, unless you get it right first time?"

"Oh, no," said Tara, "the instructors aim beside us, a-and they start off with special arrows, with blunt tips, and they fly slowly. Once you learn how to grab one out of the air, they use faster arrows, and blindfolds, that sort of thing. We never actually get arrows fired at us."

"Hey," Willow insisted gently, "I'm a scholar, if I say you're amazing, that means you're amazing. No arguments," she finished with a grin.

"If you say so," Tara teased back, giving Willow's waist a squeeze that made her wriggle delightfully.

"Oh, so that's the way you want it," Willow said with a fiery glint in her eyes. Her fingers darted to Tara's exposed side, tickling her through her tunic just under the edge of her leather bodice. Tara squirmed and laughed, trying to catch Willow's nimble hand. When that eluded her, she lifted herself off the lounge just enough to free her other arm, which snuck under Willow's body and ran up and down her side, sending her into spasms of laughter.

"This isn't... really... fair," she protested, between giggles. She deftly twisted her wrist out of Tara's hand, which had finally caught her, and resumed her attack.

"Why's that?" demanded Tara, arching her back to try to keep her side away from Willow's fingers.

"Well," Willow said, leaning against the back of the lounge to trap Tara's hand, as her own was caught again, "you've got all this armor." She slipped her hand out of Tara's again, but instead of tickling her, Willow tapped the side of her leather top, which was quite thick enough to deaden the sensation. "See? I've only got this little tiny bit of Tara to work with..." She trailed off as their sudden stillness brought her attention to how close she was to Tara, barely an inch between her and Tara, their arms around each other, their thighs touching and ankles casually resting together off the edge of the lounge. Willow tried to finish her thought, and not be distracted by Tara's chest, which was moving very distractingly with her heavy breathing.

"Only this bit of you," she repeated, relaxing her hand against Tara's side, "and you've got," she gulped quickly, "all of me."

She saw Tara's eyes drop for a moment to the laces at the side of her bodice, then they were staring into each other's gaze again.

"You're right," Tara breathed, "it wouldn't do for people to say Amazons are unfair." Her lips curled into a playful, sensual smile that made Willow's breath catch in her throat. Tara's free hand drifted back from Willow's side, towards the laces. Willow was caught between the tiny, sensible voice inside her reminding her that they were in a common room where anyone could just walk in, and the rest of her thoughts which insisted that if she stopped Tara they would never forgive her. The way Tara unconsciously licked her lips as she looked down again silenced Willow's rationality, but just then they heard someone come in behind them.

"Tryptin!" Tara said, bolting to her feet. Willow scrambled up beside her, standing straight like a soldier at attention, her face flushing red at being caught- 'Well, not actually in the act,' she conceded, 'probably not really in a situation of the act being immanent, but at least with the possibility of an act, of some kind, being present in the near-future...' She realized Tryptin was talking, and told her nervous thoughts to shut up.

"The Baron has responded to this incident admirably," he was saying, mainly to Tara but with an occasional glance at Willow as well. "The man who attacked you today is being interrogated at the moment. I explained our requirements in this situation, and the Baron has agreed that his trial will be held before we leave."

"As to the other matter, it's unclear at this stage whether it's related, but it is of some concern. The Baron's mage, a man named Hydris of the Vizjerei clan, is in custody, under close guard. It seems a castle maid was delivering lunch, and smelt smoke when she came in to leave his plate in the antechamber of his rooms. She went into his study, and found the mage conducting some sort of ritual, which frightened her. The mage drew a knife and attacked, she ran, he chased—luckily a pair of guards were in the corridor nearby, and they disarmed him before he could reach her. She took a cut, which I'm told is minor, one of the guards was wounded in the leg, but is expected to recover." He sighed, and glanced around the common room as a pair of Amazon merchants entered, talking quietly and seriously.

"If this has anything to do with your attacker," he went on to Tara, "or our presence in general, we must know. It could affect our entire mission. The Baron hasn't yet scheduled a trial for his mage, but he has agreed that we will be permitted to attend. I'll be speaking with him again later, to try to get our negotiations back on track. Oh, Miss Willow, the Baron asked after you, he would like to see you at your convenience before dinner tonight."

"A bad day," Tryptin said, to no-one in particular, "but no-one permanently harmed, thank the gods, and perhaps we'll pull something good from this after all. A person's true face is most often revealed in times of stress—I find I like the Baron. His conduct during this has been noble... He received your thanks, by the way," he said to Tara, "he was quite anxious that you did not think poorly of him for not protecting you further, as a guest of his."

"Yes he is," Tryptin agreed. "I have business to attend to—this trouble has delayed several meetings already. Melcan will be on hand if you need anything. You too, Miss Willow."

"Thank you," Willow and Tara said together. Tryptin nodded and left, taking the two merchants with him. Willow felt unaccountably relieved to be alone with Tara again, and the pair found themselves sharing a conspiratorial smile.

"Wh-why do you think the Baron wants to talk to you?" Tara asked. Willow shrugged.

"I'm just guessing," she said, "probably to help figure out what his mage was doing. So far as I know there's only ever been one mage at the court here, so I suppose no-one else really knows how magic works... He might want me to go through the mage's rooms, study the ritual he was performing. Probably not what the Order had in mind when they asked him to instruct me," she added ruefully.

"Oh... sure," Willow said. She sat down again, with Tara beside her. Glancing at her, Willow realized Tara could see her nervousness.

"I'll do it, it's important to know what he was doing, I just- I hope it wasn't a summoning," she explained glumly, gazing at the floor. "After what happened... the accident I told you about... demons scare me. I mean, obviously, they're demons and that's the whole point, but... I saw one," she admitted, "in Entsteig... a pure demon. I... If the mage had been trying to summon something, just the thought of being in his rooms-" she inhaled sharply and shook her head, trying to regain her composure. Tara gently pulled her into a hug, letting Willow's head rest on her shoulder as she stroked her hair. Willow let herself be held, her arms loose around Tara's waist, her breathing steadying as Tara soothed her. She placed a soft kiss on Tara's shoulder, and closed her eyes in contentment.

"I'll go with you," Tara said after a moment, her hands keeping up the gentle rhythm through Willow's hair and on her back.

"You don't have to," Willow said, even as she gratefully tightened her arms around Tara.

"I w-want to," Tara said, quietly but with an air of defiance. "Not so much to see what was going on, but... if you go, then I'll go."

"A-actually, it's probably best for everyone," Tara went on, "if what the mage was doing had anything to do with Amazons being here, one of us should be witness to it."

"We could probably get a guard or two," Willow suggested. "Just to stand by while we're in there." Tara leaned down, her mouth close to Willow's ear.

"I only need you," she whispered. Her breath was hot against Willow's skin, and the tenderness in her words made Willow feel something she couldn't quite describe—protected, cared for... something else.

"Mmm-hmm," Tara confirmed, "I nearly overtook the Baron riding back." Willow hugged her a little closer.

"Not that I want you to worry," she insisted, "'cause, naturally, not being worried beats worrying hands down, just... thank you. You know what I mean?"

"I know," Tara said. "It was worth it... to find you here, and safe." Willow kissed her shoulder again.

"I wish I'd seen you riding back," she said quietly. "After we met in the garden this morning, when you, you know... kissed me senseless," she grinned, "I went up onto the battlements so I could watch you ride out. I was way over to the side, and let me tell you those walls are pretty high when you're up on top of them looking down. I saw you, though. First a couple of the other riders, then you. You were leaning forward, a-and your hair was streaming out behind you in the wind... Maybe there's something to this whole horse-riding business after all," she ventured with a grin.

"When we get time I'll teach you," Tara promised. "Not that I'm an expert or anything, but I've been trained a little. We'll find you a nice, kind horse, and we'll ride together, and you can hold on to me as long as you like."

'Ah, that's it,' Willow thought, suddenly understanding the warmth that was radiating through her. Protected, cared for... she felt loved.

The Baron looked a good deal more formal than he had earlier in the day, and watching the way he shuffled the papers on his desk and breathed in with deliberate calm, as if composing himself, Tara guessed he was using the comfort of procedure to cover up some nervousness on his part. She and Willow entered the room when he looked up and beckoned them in, stopping a few paces from his desk and bowing.

The Baron's study was a large, airy room, obviously designed to impress visitors but with an unmistakable lived-in feel to it. The wall on one side was covered in shelves, cluttered with old leather-bound books, folded parchments and stacks of scrolls. From the slightly disordered look of it, this was not a library the Baron kept for form's sake, but rather one he used, and used often. There were cloth tags hanging out of some of the volumes, marking pages in them, and the occupants of several holes in the shelves were currently open on the Baron's desk, laid on top of one another. The other side of the room was taken up by a smaller desk, where the Baron's chief advisor sat, and a smaller set of shelves that had a more businesslike sense of organization to them. The advisor gave Willow and Tara a polite nod, then returned to his writing.

The Baron stood from behind his ancient, ornate desk and acknowledged their bows before returning to his seat. Behind him the far wall of the room was broken by tall windows, looking out to the west. The sun was beginning to set, but a series of candelabras spaced about the room were already lit, and provided ample light. The Baron seemed uncomfortable for a moment, glancing at his advisor before speaking.

"Miss Willow," he began, "and Lady Tara. I'm glad you're both here. This unfortunate matter of the mage involves the Amazons as well, it seems. Your diplomat has been very generous today, but I cannot deny the debt I have towards you. As your host, it is my duty to see to the well-being of all guests under my roof. Today I came close to failing in that duty; the least I can do is see that justice is done in your presence."

"Baron," Tara said when he paused, "you shielded me yourself today. No Amazon would ask for more." She wanted to reassure him further, to remind him of his bravery, but she sensed that he would take her words to heart more if they were given as one warrior to another, simple and understated. The Baron nodded, seemingly grateful.

"I am pleased to hear that," he said. "If only it weren't one of my own court who had put you in danger..." He noted Willow and Tara's confused expressions.

"I should explain," he went on. "Your diplomat has told you of the trouble that occurred today while we were on the hunt, involving my mage?" Tara nodded.

"It seems that it was no coincidence that you were attacked at the same time," the Baron continued. "My master-at-arms has interrogated your assailant, in my presence, and I am sadly sure that the men told us the truth. His name is Josef, he is known as a thief and brigand. There are some, in the far woods and the more inaccessible regions of the highlands. They come to the towns now and then, mingling easily enough with the locals—usually they indulge in a little thievery until they earn the attention of the constables, then they retreat to the remote areas and waylay careless travelers until it becomes safe for them to show their faces in civilized places again. This Josef was in Piotrsberg, a town not far from here, when he was approached yesterday by a man who offered him a job. He was given money, and promised more, in exchange for waiting in the woods today, stalking our party... and killing you," he finished, looking directly at Tara. She linked her hands behind her back, worried that they might start shaking, and did her best to maintain a warrior-like composure.

"Why?" Willow exclaimed, before realizing she had spoken out of turn and adopting a contrite expression. The Baron shrugged, taking the question in stride.

"That we do not know; he was not told. But I'm afraid there can be no doubt. He knew I would be leading the hunt, and which of my comrades would be with me. Our appearances and our hunting garb were described to him. Your appearance was described also—a 'blond-haired foreigner woman in leather armor carrying a bow' were the words he heard. That leaves little room for doubt."

"A-and from the level of detail in the instructions, y-you suspect someone in the castle?" Tara asked, concentrating on what she could deduce from the information as a way of forestalling her emotional reaction to it. Being shot at was one thing—hardly a desirable situation, but something every trainee warrior had considered at some stage—but being the target of a planned assassination was something Tara had never even dreamed of. She felt Willow's eyes on her, comforting her, and she was pleased they were here together. Even if they couldn't do more than stand side by side—she wanted to feel Willow's hand in hers, but it wouldn't be appropriate, in front of the Baron in an official capacity.

"If that were all," the Baron answered her, "then yes, I would suspect someone within the castle. But I'm afraid we know who this Josef took his orders from. My master-at-arms is a suspicious man, but he has a good instinct for this sort of sorry business. He showed Josef drawings of several members of the court, and thus we identified the mage, Hydris, as the one who did this."

Tara glanced at Willow. She herself wasn't as surprised as she might be—the suspicion had been forming in her mind even as the Baron had told her. But she could see Willow was shaken by the news. She relaxed her stance, letting her arms fall to her sides, and for a moment allowed her hand to brush against Willow's. They locked eyes for an instant, and Tara forced a reassuring smile to her face.

"Why he did this," the Baron started, and paused. "We don't know. He has refused to answer any questions. I assure you the moment I heard of what he had done, I stripped him of his position in the court, but he is still from a powerful family, and until a trial can be held, there is little we can do to compel him to reveal what he knows. I have spoken to him myself, and I... I think he may not be of sound mind." The Baron and his advisor shared a glum look, then he returned his attention to Willow and Tara.

"At any rate, I can tell you what we know. Hydris was conducting some kind of ritual, and when found he attacked the maid who saw him. He fought two guards in an attempt to pursue her, and injured one of them before he was disarmed and rendered unconscious. My advisor, who acts as regent during my absence, had him locked in a cell, once he had been searched and relieved of any objects that might contain some power he could draw on. His rooms have been sealed and placed under guard, but no-one has entered them. The maid, Kristanna, was... well, hysterical. She has calmed down, but she can give no clear account of what she saw. Perhaps the shock has affected her memory, but then again... she's just a domestic servant, from a family in Karlsband, it's entirely likely she simply has no understanding of what she saw, and so cannot describe it. I myself might have been likewise struck dumb—I have no mind for magic, I'm afraid I have always relied on Hydris to interpret anything of that nature. He never gave any indication that he was less than trustworthy... I find myself grateful that he seldom offered advice on affairs of state. Many lords, you know, rely on their mages as general advisors—it's an old tradition, the lord using the wisdom of his mage. It is just as well Hydris always remained remote from worldly concerns, or I fear I would have taken his advice without question, and who knows where that may have ended?" He sighed, then shook his head, dismissing his musings as he returned his attention to the women in front of him.

"Miss Willow, I must ask for your help," he said. "Many who've visited here have told of the Zann Esu's powers and wisdom, and the letter of introduction announcing your arrival spoke highly of you as a scholar. I would ask you if you would examine the mage's rooms, and determine what you can of his activities and possible motives. But first I must ask if you think there may be any danger to you in doing so?" Willow seemed a little surprised at the Baron's praise, but gathered herself quickly.

"Um, no sir," she said, "no, I don't expect his ritual would pose a danger, this long after he was interrupted. I'll take precautions, of course."

"Of course," the Baron agreed. "I'll have my master-at-arms make the rooms available to you, tomorrow if that is agreeable to you?" Willow nodded. "If you require the use of any of our guards, you have only to ask."

"Thank you sir," Willow said, "but I shouldn't think so. Um, Tara has offered to accompany me, if you suggested this... she'll be all the protection I need."

"I don't doubt it," said the Baron, glancing down at his papers and missing Tara's surprised glance at Willow. "Oh, one other matter," he went on, looking up again, "the feast is in two days. Naturally I considered whether it should be postponed, but with the mage in custody and my guards prepared for any further trouble, I have decided to go ahead with it. Hopefully it will go some way towards putting this sorry state of affairs from our minds, if only for a few hours... you are both invited to my table, if you would care to attend."

"N-not that I mind the flattery," Tara said, "but perhaps we should have a couple of guards with us tomorrow. In case there is anything dangerous, I mean... B-because sure, I've been trained, and my instructors were good, but the castle guards probably have a lot more experience, if you need to be protected, a-and I'll do my best but I'm no Valkyrie."

They were eating dinner in Willow's room, Tara having sent a servant to the Amazon quarters to let Tryptin know she would be back later. It was really two rooms, a small antechamber and a bedroom, but the outer room had been furnished for a single occupant—one chair, a desk, and shelves which Willow had filled with her satchels. One of them was open, and its books were stacked neatly beside it, but Willow had evidently not thought it worth unpacking the entire set onto the shelves, only to have to pack them up again a few days later. They ate in the bedroom, sitting on the large bed with plates balanced on their knees. On entering Tara had noticed the belt Willow had worn the night before, with its brilliant white-jeweled buckle, hooked over the end of the bed, and smiled at the memory.

"We won't need them," Willow said, "I don't think it'll be dangerous—at least, not that sort of dangerous. We'll have to be careful, that's all, in case there are any traps of curses set up to protect his rooms. I'll be able to draw out anything magical, and anything that looks suspiciously device-y we can set aside for later. I didn't mean you'd protect me like that, just... I'll feel safer with you there." She paused, and played with her food idly for a moment. "I don't want to go in there afraid," she admitted quietly. She looked up, right into Tara's gaze. "With you there, I won't be."

Tara smiled warmly, comforted to see Willow's resolve. She could see how much Willow was bothered by the idea of what the mage might have been doing, and she frankly admired her courage in facing it. She had never before been in a situation where someone relied on her for anything important, and though part of her was unnerved by the idea, and the fear that she might fail Willow in some way, she found she was oddly calmed by it at the same time. The thought that Willow could be strengthened just by her presence made her want to stay by her side always, and never leave her.

She thought about this for a moment, as she and Willow ate in companionable silence. They would be at the Baron's castle for a few more days, then the caravan would be moving on, to Duncraig via a handful of settlements along the highland road, which veered westward for a while before straightening out and heading north, to rejoin the river as it neared the capital. Tara wasn't sure exactly how long the journey would take, but she thought two weeks sounded about right. She would be at court for some time there, meeting the Duke and his lords, and there were certainly many mages in Duncraig Willow would study with. But then what? Willow would continue to travel through Westmarch before returning to her Order, while Tara and the Amazons would join a caravan heading back to Kingsport, and then sail home. Tara was slightly surprised to find that she was considering staying with Willow, traveling with her. Of course she wanted to stay with Willow, but... Tran Athulua was her home, the only one she had ever known. At the same time as she imagined traveling at Willow's side, sleeping beside her every night at inns and in caravans, discovering the world with her, Tara wondered whether, if she followed that path, she would ever see her home again.

She smiled at herself, reminding herself that those decisions were a long way off, and there would be plenty of time to think, and to find out what Willow wanted—not that she had any reason to think Willow would not want her. Ending up together on a caravan could happen to anyone, but if she made the choice to travel with Willow, well, that was a bold step. Tara didn't consider herself a bold person, and she acknowledged that such deep friendship, let alone love, was new to her. But the simple fact was that Tara knew, deep down, that if the choice was hers she would be leaving Duncraig at Willow's side, not with the Amazon mission.

'Love,' she suddenly thought, 'gods, did I just think that?' She had known almost from the start that she liked Willow, had quickly come to think of her as a friend, and had looked forward to deepening that friendship into its own kind of love. And there was no way she could deny she was attracted to her, not after the way she felt herself react to Willow's appearance at the dinner last night. 'Not to mention that kiss this morning,' she reminded herself, blushing pleasurably, 'that was hardly a companionable peck on the cheek.' Friendship, attraction, desire... but when had she fallen in love with Willow? Tara wasn't quite sure. Perhaps the moment they met, and it had just been waiting all this time. Or maybe it had been as she accepted first Willow's friendship, then their mutual attraction, and opened herself up to the possibilities from there. 'Perhaps it doesn't matter,' she thought idly, watching Willow chew her food, of all things, and secretly amused at herself for finding something so mundane so entrancing.

"What's a Valkyrie?" Willow asked suddenly, nudging Tara out of her reverie. "Is that like some kind of veteran warrior?"

"Something like that," Tara said with a grin. "Athulua is our central goddess, the wisest and most powerful. The Valkyrie are her handmaidens, th-they serve her and her consort Kethryes. They're the spirits of our greatest warriors, women whose names have become legendary. Some people say that if a warrior is noble, honorable, courageous... well, the ideal of an Amazon warrior, then Athulua will send a Valkyrie to fight by her side when she most needs it. Th-they say if a warrior is honored with a Valkyrie, it means that she's already earned her place with Athulua. That when she dies, whether it's in battle or of old age, she'll become a Valkyrie."

"I don't know," Tara admitted, "I think so, though. Solari, my weapons instructor... she never said she'd seen a Valkyrie, but whenever people talked about them she was always absolutely sure they existed. I think, maybe, one fought with her once. I don't know really," she said with a shy grin, "I'm just guessing... it was just something about her. A-as if she didn't have to believe in them, because she knew."

"That's amazing," Willow said, "that's... some sort of transference with a divine realm... it's the sort of thing that the library back home only has myths about. The priests of Zakarum are supposed to be able to communicate with their ancestors, and a lot of sorceresses aren't even sure that's true. To actually take on physical form... that's almost angelic power! I've got to- It's not an Amazon secret sort of thing, is it?" she asked.

"This definitely belongs in our notebook," Willow decided. She put her plate aside, then paused and smiled serenely at Tara without saying anything.

"Just thinking," Willow explained, "there's so much I never knew. I could listen to you forever." She paused again, and Tara thought she saw a hint of a blush forming on her cheeks. "Not that I'm just with you for the Amazon lore," Willow went on hastily, "I'm not... it's just, you know, additional goodness. But if you were born in the house next to mine, I'd still l- I'd like you just as much."

'She hesitated,' Tara thought, 'she was going to say... was she going to say love?' She gave Willow her warmest smile, while her thoughts swirled around. Was it possible Willow loved her? Tara didn't think of herself as unlovable, by any means, but when she thought of Willow... Willow, who could surely choose anyone she wanted... there was a very strong element of too-good-to-be-true to Tara's thoughts. 'Then again, she returned my friendship, my attraction... could it be our love, not just mine, that's been growing?' She couldn't say, but when she thought about everything that had happened between them... well, even the worst case scenario looked pretty good. Willow liked, her, valued her friendship, enjoyed their closeness, returned Tara's affection... shared with her the most exquisite kiss Tara had ever dreamed of. Even if that was all, if the love of such a goddess in human form really was just a wild hope, Tara decided she would count her blessings.

Tara returned to the Amazon quarters looking entirely gleeful and doing nothing to hide it. When she and Willow had finally parted—Willow promising to meet Tara immediately after breakfast—when they had stood in the doorway of Willow's room, exchanging goodbyes and until-tomorrows, she had had a sudden, tantalizing idea.

'I have to go,' she had said, her hands resting gently on Willow's waist, and then she had tightened her grip, puller her close and whispered softly in her ear: 'but just so you know I don't want to...'

She had paused just long enough to hear the sudden intake of breath as Willow recognized her own words, and what Tara meant by using them, then she let out a slow breath against Willow's ear. Willow shivered at the sensation of the hot air touching her, and Tara immediately followed it with a tiny, playful kiss, the tip of her tongue delicately touching Willow's earlobe before her lips closed on it and sucked briefly. She could feel Willow tremble in her arms, and she gave her ear the tiniest, gentlest nip between her teeth before leaning a little lower, placing a series of feather-light kisses along her jaw. She nudged Willow with her cheek, tilting her head up a fraction so she could leave a final kiss on the soft skin beneath her chin—and she had intended that to be the extent of it, but then Willow made a tiny sound, a sigh half-way between longing and disbelief. It was very quiet, not an abandoned moan of pleasure or a groan of passion, but it carried in it pure desire. Hearing it, realizing she had caused it, Tara allowed herself no choice but to bring her lips to Willow's and kiss her properly.

It was unhurried, undemanding, but utterly arousing. Tara felt Willow's lips open first, and her own followed without thought, then the tips of their tongues were touching—not deep and sexual, the way their kiss in the morning had been, just a series of tiny points of contact between their lips, which was nonetheless completely intimate. The part of Tara still capable of proper thought realized that she shouldn't push further, not yet—she wasn't ready to spend the night with Willow, and if this kiss grew any more heated than it already was, it would be decidedly difficult, not to mention frustrating, to back away. Soon, she promised herself, not yet, but not very far away, and she knew she had within her the patience to wait until she was ready, when there would be no hesitation. In the meantime, she let herself get lost in the sensations of the kiss, the softness of Willow's lips moving slowly against hers, the gentle touch of Willow's hands on her back, even the tiny vibrations that ran through her throat as she gave little, inaudible sighs of pleasure.

At last, together, they reined in their movements, their lips closed, stayed lightly pressed against each other for a moment, then parted. Tara wondered briefly if there was anything she could say, but seeing the look in Willow's eyes she knew she didn't have to say anything. She turned and walked away down the corridor, stopping just briefly to glance over her shoulder as she turned the corner, to see Willow watching her, looking completely joyful.

Willow, staff in hand, did indeed show up outside the common room just as Tara and the Amazons were finishing their morning meal. Both of them were conscious of the merchants and negotiators still eating and discussing the day's business around them, so Tara restrained herself to holding Willow's free hand, and parting her lips in a silent, wished kiss that Willow saw and beamed at. 'Not that they'd mind,' Tara thought, as she cleared away her plates and ducked into her bedroom to collect Silverstrike, 'but some thing are best done in private.'

"Ready," Willow confirmed, taking Tara's hand again as they nodded their goodbyes to Tryptin and left the common room.

"So, a-any advice?" Tara asked as she let Willow lead her through the castle. "W-with unknown magical equipment, I mean."

"I don't think there'll be any problems," Willow said, with a fair degree of confidence. "I was just a bit worried about, you know, being there... it shouldn't be dangerous, but I guess it'd be like being on an old battlefield, you know?" Tara had never even seen a real battlefield, but she had spoken to enough of the older warriors to recognize what Willow meant, and she nodded. "Anyway," Willow went on, "I worked out all my jitters when I woke up, I-I'm pretty calm about it now. I'm still glad you're with me, of course," she hastened to assure Tara.

"Always," Tara promised, which she was gratified to see made Willow grin and blush at the same time.

"Um, there shouldn't be much to worry about," Willow said, "just... well, simple stuff. Don't read anything out loud unless you already know what it means. If there's any jars of blood or anything like that, or if—gods forbid—you cut a finger or something, don't get blood on anything that looks like a mystical artifact... it's all pretty much common sense. Powerful magic isn't easy, and demonology is only easy if you want to summon a demon, which we really don't, so I don't think we're in any danger of accidentally triggering anything. We'll take it slow, though."

Tara went over Willow's advice to herself, and concentrated on her senses as they crossed to the castle keep, heightening her awareness of the forms and sounds around her so that she wouldn't miss anything. In doing so she found she became very aware of Willow—the touch of her hand, the motion of her as they walked, even the faint trace of her scent. She was surprised to find it wasn't really a distraction, so much as a comfort. Soon enough they arrived at the door to the mage's rooms, high in the observatory tower. Two guards were standing outside, with another pair further up the corridor, keeping watch from a distance. They recognized Willow and stood aside, both of them glancing between her and Tara, their eyes drawn to her spear, which with its silver-white blade and inlaid decoration in the shaft was no doubt very different to the kind of weapons they were used to seeing.

The antechamber was small, and mundane. A couple of chairs, a small table—still with a tray bearing yesterday's lunch on it, which fortunately didn't include anything that was particularly pungent as it aged—a map of Kingsport and the surrounding countryside, and a simple chart showing phases of the moon, both pinned to a cork board attached to one wall. There was a narrow archway on one corner, with a spiral stairway leading up to the observatory on the floor above, and two doors. Willow checked the closed one first, peering in to confirm that it was the bedroom, before approaching the door that had been left ajar.

The room beyond was the largest of the suite. Three tall windows faced east, letting in the morning sun. Tapestries adorned all the walls that weren't occupied by shelves, ancient and worn, some displaying geometric patterns, others with the faded remnants of historical scenes. Aside from bookcases and sets of shelves between the windows and beside the door, two entire walls were covered with bookshelves that reached to the ceiling—there was even a ladder, its top supported by tiny wheels resting on a metal rail that ran the length of one of the top shelves. Up near the roof the shelves were closely-spaced, carrying tiny, thin volumes; lower down the shelves, and their occupants, were larger. The bottom shelf, a few inches from the floor, bore huge tomes bound in thick leather, with heavy brass corners and edges on the bindings, some of them large enough that they would need a whole table to themselves to be read.

Hanging in the center of the room was a low chandelier, the candles melted down to stumps, dribbling wax down their sides. Some of the droplets had fallen to the floor, dotting a geometric mosaic that had already been obscured by trails of colored sand, laid out in a complex pattern that was difficult to see above the tiles themselves.

"Don't step into that," Willow advised. The thought had already occurred to Tara—the pattern as indistinct, and one part of it had been badly scuffed by someone's feet, but she was fairly sure she could make out a circle in the design, and even to her mind a circle meant summoning. She avoided the center of the room, instead turning her attention to a long desk, positioned in front of what was evidently a lesser-used set of shelves. It had a few books open on it, but was mostly taken up by intricate metal devices, wheels and arcs of brass hinged together, with tiny numbers engraved on them. Tara thought one of them looked very much like a device Eponin, the mistress of her clan house, had in her study, that showed the positions of various significant stars at certain times, but many of the others were completely beyond her. Most of them were quite beautiful, she thought, but one stood out—a small construct of bent arcs and jagged vanes, fashioned from a dull gray metal. That alone looked somehow malevolent.

"Willow," she said, gesturing to it while keeping her hand well clear of it. Willow glanced at it, and frowned as if a dark suspicion had been confirmed.

"Oculus Daemonicus," she said with a slight shiver, "the demon's eye. It's a sort of orrery, like these others, but instead of stars and planets it shows the positions of the planes of Hell. Well, that settles it, he was using demonic magic."

"Y-you're sure he was using it?" Tara asked, hoping to assuage the dark cloud that seemed to settle on Willow as she pronounced her verdict.

"The circle is pretty strong evidence," she answered, though Tara could see she was grateful for the suggestion, "but the eye is conclusive. It's not just a positioning mechanism, they're made by followers of demonic magic. Part of their purpose is to help rituals like this one, to actually make contact with demons. I've seen one before, in the Zann Esu library—they have a sort of neutral setting, and if the mage didn't want to use this, this one would be aligned like that too. It's not."

She stood in front of the desk, glancing at Tara as if to steel herself, then reached for the device. Tara's first instinct was to question her, but she let herself trust that Willow knew what she was doing. She noticed a thin layer of mist form around her hand, as if the air was chilling—'a form of defense?' she wondered. Willow gently took hold of one of the eye's protruding vanes and twisted it slightly. Two of the arcs slid a little way around their axles, and Willow let go. Tara thought that the thing seemed... well, deader than before, and was surprised to think she had been noticing something in it that might be thought of as alive. Willow noticed Tara staring at her hand, and wiggled her fingers, grinning.

"Like I said, we've got spells to keep us safe," she explained. "That was just in case, I wouldn't have touched the thing if I really thought it could be dangerous, but it's best to take precautions anyway."

"Oh, it's just an application of cold magic," she said, "we call it 'chill armor'. Informally, of course. Cold magic can slow down pretty much anything, just by freezing the energy out of it. A really powerful sorceress can cast an armor strong enough that any weapon trying to hit her just- well, stops," Willow shrugged. "I've seen it demonstrated. You can swing a sword at it, or fire an arrow, and all the force just gets leached out of it." Tara could see her cheering up as she put the demon's eye out of her mind. "Heh, you know, there's this really weird demonstration that trainees do when they're learning how to cast the armor, to show us how strong it can be. One of the elders, the really powerful sorceresses who teach us, cast an armor on herself, and then each of the trainees gets a short sword and takes a swing at her side. She—it was a woman called Prospera who taught my class—was just wearing traditional battlegear, you understand, just like I was the other night, completely open at the hips, where we were swinging at. I was really afraid I'd hurt her, even after I saw some of the others go first—nuh-uh," she said, grinning at Tara, "it was like hitting a stone column. I dropped the sword, and my arm ached all that afternoon. Prospera didn't even move!"

"You bet," said Willow with a grin, "but that's what cold magic is all about. Fire is the best magic for attacking, for doing damage, lightning is the most versatile—cold is all about defense."

"I'm glad you're good at it," Tara said sincerely. Willow beamed a smile at her, and leant forward to kiss her on the cheek for an instant. Tara was surprised to find herself blushing, but then glad that she was—she liked being able to be as bold as she had become around Willow, yet still feel so pleasantly flustered at such a little thing.

With Tara's help, Willow moved on to the shelves, climbing the ladder and sorting through the books on the high shelves, passing them down for Tara to stack in piles—'safe' over near the door, and the handful Willow proclaimed 'evil', but harmless to handle, on the other side of the room, beneath the window. Most of the time was spent with Willow leafing through the books, searching for any reference to demonic magic and summoning, but Tara didn't mind the periods of inactivity. Willow was wearing a long skirt, but one slit up quite high for ease of movement, and when she was perched on the ladder skimming books, with Tara standing on the floor beside her, the skirt tended to pull to the side Willow leant to, leaving Tara's face barely inches from an expanse of smooth thigh that fascinated her. In the stretches of time when Willow was silently reading, she occupied herself blissfully by imagining leaning over just a fraction to kiss Willow's perfect skin, and luxuriated in the flutterings the thought caused in her, and found the morning passing quite quickly.

By midday Willow had emptied one wall of books and begun on the second. Eight books lay in a neat stack by the windows. Willow was still absorbed in the shelves when Tara noticed the shadows outside had reached their shortest point, but she was happy to leave the books alone for a while when Tara suggested they break for lunch. They emerged from the mage's rooms to find the guards handing their duties over to their replacements, and one of the departing guards promised to send someone up from the kitchen with enough food for everyone. Willow and Tara ate in the antechamber, sending the leftover meal from the day before back to the kitchens to be disposed of, thus freeing the small table for their own meal. It was only a small surface, intended for letters and such when no-one was in the rooms to receive them, and sitting on either side of it, Willow and Tara's knees tended to rest against each other beneath the table. Neither minded at all.

"Well, it's definitely a summoning circle on the floor," Willow said, "I've read plenty of descriptions of them. Not pictures, of course, if you drew one on a page it'd still have some of the same power as if it was done properly, but there are key features that I recognize. And from that it's obvious that whatever Hydris was doing, he didn't get to set it in motion before he was disturbed."

"Summoning circles vanish once they're used," Willow explained. "And he can't have gotten very far in empowering the circle, or it wouldn't have been possible to disturb the pattern the way he did—when he ran after the girl, I suppose. The texts I've read say that once a circle incantation gets properly underway, the circle is difficult to destroy, it sort of has a life of its own. The smoke the girl smelt was probably part of the initial incantation to wake the circle. We were lucky there, if he'd been further into the summoning, even if he'd been disturbed, whatever he was trying to summon might have been able to complete the ritual from the other end."

"Power," Willow said flatly. "Magic is all about drawing power from outside yourself, and shaping it into the effect you want. There all sorts of sources of power—your gods and goddesses, for example. Mine is cold, which is one of the primals—fire, cold and lightning represent the three primal elements that the world is built on. The cold before creation, the fire of the world's birth, and the lightning energy that binds it all together. There's elements in alchemy too—you know, earth, fire, air, water, everyone knows those ones—they're what the world is made of, but the primals are what the world was made by."

"Yeah, the Esu witches didn't mess around when they chose a discipline to follow," Willow quipped. "Well, it wasn't really about how effective they are. They wanted to avoid the kind of corruption that the other clans were experiencing. The primal elements existed before good and evil, so they can't be influenced by either one. Whether a sorceress is good or evil is her choice, she can't be influenced through her magic... Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked. What was I saying? Oh, demons... Demons can draw power from within themselves. They're the opposite of angels, angels have the power of creation, demons have the power of destruction. The theory is that you summon a demon, bind it to your will, and hey presto, you've got a source of power that never runs dry. Of course it's destructive power, but no-one complains because people who summon demons are usually doing it because they want to destroy something or other."

"Nope," she agreed, "that's just the theory. Most of the demonology texts spell it out like that, but that's not surprising seeing as most of them were created by demons or their allies to lure people into summoning them... See, the binding has to be done by the mage. If it fails, the demon is set loose. And the demon has its own power to challenge the binding, while the mage has only whatever power he can draw from around himself. In the end, the demon always wins."

"Some of them," Willow allowed, "some of the time. Mostly either they don't know, or they don't care. They convince themselves that they can hold the binding, that they won't be overpowered, or that they can banish their demon before it turns on them. I can't figure out that circle, though," she added, glancing at the door to the study.

"I can't see anything around it that looks like a binding circle," Willow said, "either he was going to draw it while the ritual was going on, which is risky, or he wasn't going to use one... that's just plain stupid. Even the kind of people who summon demons know you can't trust them. I don't know. I'll have another look at it, try to work it out, then we'll get rid of it. I don't think there's any power left in it, but I'd like it gone anyway."

"M-me too," Tara admitted, "you know, I keep worrying that I'll forget it's there, and walk right into it or something." She shrugged and cast a shy smile at Willow.

Willow made good on her promise the moment she and Tara had finished lunch. She spent a moment examining the pattern from all angles, then shrugged to Tara and took a step back from it. With one hand she created and aimed a billowing stream of condensation, which soaked the circle and blurred the intricate runes that had been painstakingly formed by the tiny trails of sand.

"That should do it," Willow said. Tara was relieved, and could see that Willow was too—she had a spring in her step that had been absent before as she retrieved a broom from the antechamber and began sweeping the wet sand into a pile.

"You know- ow!" she exclaimed suddenly. Tara started, suddenly fearful that something had gone wrong, but Willow shot her a quick look to reassure her, and picked up a tiny stone from the floor, where she had trodden on it. She examined it, moving to the window for better light.

"Take a look at this," she said. Tara did, and saw the pebble was in fact a tiny pyramid, its four miniscule faces each carved with a single rune.

"I think we've found our binding circle," Willow said triumphantly. She dropped the carved pebble into Tara's palm and began sifting through the pile of sand she had created, which was beginning to dry out. She found more stones, each only the size of the tip of her little finger—cubes, balls, more pyramids, each with a handful of runes carved on it.

"Must've been underneath the sand," Willow guessed, "I haven't heard of that, but then again I'm not really the expert on all things demonic and dumb-to-experiment-with... Some of these are runes of power, though." She sorted through the collection of stones, examining each one before placing it on the desk.

"Power, power," she murmured as she identified each one, "something to do with location, this one's to reinforce the spell, this one I don't know, maybe some sort of astrological siphon though... whoa, this is interesting."

Tara peered at the stone between Willow's fingers. It was a tiny disc, smooth on one side, with a single rune on the other.

"It's an old form of writing, from Kehjistan before they invented the Khejan alphabet. I think it says 'Hydris', or something phonetically similar. He customized the spell to himself. What was someone that bright doing with demons?"

"It's... well, elegant," Willow said, "most rituals have been done for centuries, with dozens of mages studying them and perfecting them in a generic form. To break down a ritual and alter it so it's optimized for a particular caster is... well, it's a hell of a lot of work, but if you do it right it makes it easier, and better."

"I-I got the impression summoners didn't have too much power of their own," Tara said, "th-that they were looking for a quick way to gain power."

"That's almost always true," Willow said. "I guess we've found an exception, though. Can you see another one of these around somewhere?" Tara sorted through the small pile of stones, while Willow checked the sand and the center of the room to make sure she hadn't missed any. She found another sphere, but no more discs.

"Just a hunch," Willow said, "I thought maybe if he altered the ritual to himself, he might have done the same for the demon he was trying to reach. That'd be the most efficient way—instead of a 'mage binding demon' spell, he'd have an optimized 'Hydris binding insert-name-here' spell. Strange... if he had the ability to do half of it, it shouldn't have been difficult to do the rest." She shrugged.

"Or just nuts," Willow said, "the chasing people with knives episode doesn't sound like someone in their right mind. Demonology can do that. Oh well..."

She put the sand and the rune stones beside the books she had chosen as being dangerous, quickly checked the smaller bookcases—all inconsequential volumes, she found—and then went back to work on the second wall of shelves, Tara replacing the safe books on the first as she did. She did the top first, then turned the ladder over to Willow once she had filled all the shelves that were out of reach from the floor.

"Is there anyone else here you're supposed to study with?" Tara asked after a while.

"No, Hydris was it," Willow said, talking and reading at the same time. "Kingsport isn't really a place where mages make their homes. Too commercial, I think. Ember's notebook had a lot about all the shipping trade that passes through the port, apparently even the towns out here are caught up in it. Mages don't like too much business going on around them, as a rule. They prefer... oh, you know, quiet towers where they can stargaze and collect rare art, without running into merchants and laborers whenever they have to go out to get some supplies. I suppose I didn't really expect too much from the mages in the city. Hydris probably wouldn't have lived here, if it weren't for the position—being mage to a noble court is pretty prestigious."

"Once they hear what's happened, I guess so. They'll probably send a team to investigate, and have one of them stay on with the Baron when they're finished. That's what the Order does. The Zann Esu were pretty much completely isolationist until the Reckoning, so there aren't any ancient traditions of how sorceresses get chosen for court appointments. We basically stole all those practices from the Vizjerei."

"No-one to meet," Willow clarified, "but that just means more time to spend with you." She blushed, and glanced over her shoulder. Tara smiled fondly at her, which seemed to reassure her she hadn't assumed too much.

"You promised to teach me how to use a bow," Willow reminded her, returning her attention to the books, but with a wide smile now adorning her face.

"I haven't forgotten," Tara promised. She was pleased beyond words that Willow was looking forward to being with her, even if it wasn't very much of a surprise. She had also noticed the playful tone in Willow's voice when she reminded Tara of her promise, and that set her mind working.

The next time Willow finished with a half-dozen books and called for Tara to take them to the 'safe' pile, Tara balanced the books in one hand, used her other hand to gently draw the back of Willow's skirt aside, revealing the back of her thigh, and quickly placed a kiss there. She heard Willow's startled intake of breath, but she immediately turned, and felt Willow's gaze on her back as she crossed the room and added the books to the newest of the stacks forming there. She picked up several of the morning's books from their pile and headed to return them to their shelves, and as she did so, she was sure she caught a glimpse of a wicked smile on Willow's face as she quickly turned back to her work.

She repeated her teasing kiss when next Willow had some books for her, and this time glanced over her shoulder as she walked away. She was just quick enough to see Willow notice her looking and turn away, hiding her excited grin. Next time she collected some books, she leant down a little and gave Willow a playful nip on the sensitive skin on the back of her knee. She was sure she heard the beginning of a moan, quickly hushed, but otherwise Willow continued the pretence that she was absorbed in her reading. After that she returned to kisses for a couple of trips, but she noticed with a sly grin that Willow had taken to handing her one book at a time, rather than waiting for an armful to be finished with.

Tara continued her game through the afternoon, pausing only to bring in a candelabra from outside when the waning light on the castle walls beyond the windows no longer lit the room enough to read by. For the most part she restrained herself to brief kisses, on the side or back of the thigh revealed by the slit in Willow's skirt. Now and then, in the interests of keeping Willow guessing, Tara told herself, she would vary her technique. She once drew the skirt across far enough to kiss Willow's other thigh, on the side the skirt wasn't slit, so that for an instant both her legs were revealed almost as high as they went. When Willow started on the final, top shelf, and moved up a step on the ladder, Tara gently grazed her teeth over the back of Willow's knees, or touched the skin there with the tip of her tongue. All the while she was conscious of the increased speed of Willow's breathing, and the breathy tone her voice took on whenever she told Tara she had finished with another book.

Tara began to pay close attention to how many books Willow had left, and escalated her teasing. When Willow finished with the bulky Vizjerei histories, Tara leant up and left a kiss just a little further towards the inside of her thigh than she had previously. When the scrolls were done, she bent down to press her open lips to Willow's calf for a second, just above the top of the soft boots she was wearing. At last there was only a small stack of map-books to go, and as Willow was positioned directly in front of them, Tara couldn't see exactly how many of them there were. On the first, she rubbed her cheek gently against Willow's thigh before quickly kissing it and withdrawing. On the second she kissed the back of her knee again, this time trailing a finger up her calf as she did so. On the third, she started at Willow's knee, and slowly drew her tongue up along the length of Willow's thigh, stopping just before she would have had to get the skirt out of the way completely. She felt the shudder that ran through Willow, and her own legs were feeling more than a little shaky, but she composed herself and managed to give off an air of benign indifference as she carried the book over to the stacks, sure Willow was watching her all the way.

"Last one," Willow said—she did her best to sound nonchalant, but Tara could hear the anticipation she was trying to hide. She set her face in a perfectly neutral expression, and walked across to Willow, who had come down a step on the ladder, still facing the shelves.

Instead of handing Tara a book, Willow turned around on the ladder, looking down at her with a victorious grin.

"You know," Tara said with a smile, "it's not nice to fool a simple Amazon girl like that."

"Oh no?" Willow replied, taking a further step down the ladder. "And what might this simple Amazon girl do now that she knows her innocent trust has been taken advantage of?"

Tara took a step forward, which left barely an inch between her face and Willow's chest as she stared up at her.

"That's no fun," Willow said, taking one more step down, her thighs touching Tara's hips as she did so. "I think she should stay here, and let me make it up to her."

"Are you sure?" Tara asked with a teasing grin. "You know what Amazons are like with honor... it might take a lot of making up." She took another half-step forward, pressing Willow against the ladder. Willow's grin broadened into a wide smile. Before Tara knew what was happening, Willow had shook her leg free of her skirt and raised it around Tara's waist, using it to hold Tara there while her hands gripped the sides of the ladder.

"I'll be thorough," she promised. Quick as a flash she leant down and kissed Tara, pressing her open lips against Tara's mouth, while her tongue sought entry. Tara opened her mouth at once, and pressed back, their tongues dueling in a private frenzy of pent-up desire. Willow had to keep one hand on the ladder to help herself balance, but the other pressed against Tara's back, drawing her as close as she could be. Tara wished she had chosen a thinner tunic, nevertheless feeling every motion of Willow's hand as if it were lighting a trail of fire on her skin. She quickly returned the favor, snaking both her arms around Willow's waist, between her back and the rungs of the ladder, firmly stroking the smooth curves of her body.

Willow moaned loudly without breaking the kiss, which sent a bolt of desire through Tara the like of which she was quite sure she'd never felt before. She wrapped one arm around Willow's waist, making her arch her back so that every inch of their bodies was pressed together, while her other hand reached the back of Willow's head, her fingers tangling themselves in Willow's hair. Willow adjusted the leg she had clamped around Tara, pressing her thigh against Tara's side, rubbing it seductively up and down between her waist and her hip. Tara let out a little aroused cry, and lost all her concentration for a moment, opening her lips wide and letting Willow's tongue claim her mouth unopposed.

The kiss continued for a moment, until Tara drew the hand on Willow's back down over her hips, and then up underneath the bare leg wrapped around her side. Willow tore her lips away and threw her head back—if not for Tara's restraining hand, she would have fetched herself a nasty bump on the ladder.

"Tara!" she exclaimed, just managing to keep her voice down to a husky growl, so as not to alert the guards two doors away. "Gods," she breathed, gazing back down into Tara's eyes. Tara could see the desire in her eyes—she knew it well enough from having felt it build in herself all afternoon.

"Willow," she whispered, at once a declaration and a plea. Willow shifted her hips, sitting on the ladder's closest step, and lifted her other leg up around Tara, her skirt bunching around her right thigh as her ankles hooked around each other in the small of Tara's back. They kissed again, and again, pressing their open lips together in between quick gasps for air, both losing themselves in the sensations as their lips became wet, and their tongues stroked sensuously along each other's lengths. Tara drew her fingers out of Willow's hair and traced a path down her back, tantalizingly close to her bottom as she passed over her hips. Finally she had both hands beneath Willow's thighs, her palms pressing firmly up against Willow's legs, her fingers curling inward, rubbing against her inner thighs. Willow let go of the ladder, trusting Tara not to let her fall off, and wrapped both arms around Tara's waist, stroking up and down her back. She quickly began to broaden the trails she was exploring with her hands, coming in at Tara's sides, her thumbs just beginning to reach the sides of Tara's breasts. Tara's breathing, between kisses, became increasingly ragged. She started letting out little cries with each breath, mingling with the moaning that Willow was giving voice to with increasing volume.

After her bold start, Tara could scarcely believe what was happening. She had spent the morning dreaming about kissing Willow's thigh, a simple act which she found incredibly erotic by itself—she hadn't really thought, until the moment came, that she would actually go through with it. Her teasing of Willow had gone ahead in a daze of delight, but never—not that morning, not the night of the dinner when she had first seen Willow, nor any other time she had allowed herself to fantasize about touching her—never had she imagined such a monumental, intimate and above all unrestrained embrace. Her hands seemed to have minds of their own, gently stroking and squeezing Willow's thighs, her mouth returned Willow's kisses with a passionate frenzy she would never have guessed she was capable of, and when she thought she felt a distinct warmth between Willow's legs, pressed against her belly through the fabric of her tunic, she wondered if this was when she would pass out.

She never found out whether she would lose consciousness, but her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when she heard a loud banging from the door behind them. She opened her eyes, staring straight into Willow's equally wide-eyed stare for a split second, before Willow jolted in surprise and lost her seat on the ladder. Tara staggered backwards slightly, but kept her balance as Willow's hands clutched her back, so she ended up in the middle of the room, her arms supporting Willow, whose four limbs were wrapped around her and who was clinging like a shocked limpet.

"Lady? Miss Willow?" came the voice of one of the guards from beyond the door. "Is everything okay, ma'am? We heard raised voices."

Tara managed to close her lips and draw back from the motionless kiss she was sharing with Willow, who for her part simply stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

"Miss Willow? Lady Tara?" came the guard's voice again, this time more than a little anxious.

"We're fine!" Willow yelled suddenly, her voice notably higher than usual. "Everything's fine! Thank you! Don't come in, we're cleaning up the ritual! Thanks!"

"Very well ma'am," came the guard's voice, after a moment's pause in which neither Willow nor Tara dared breathe. "Sorry to disturb you. See, I told you, it's just magic goings-on..." the voice trailed off, evidently addressed to the second guard, and audible to Willow and Tara only because of the dead silence in the room.

For a moment both Willow and Tara remained silent, listening to the sound of the antechamber's door being closed. Then Tara bit her tongue, Willow gnawed on her bottom lip, and they both burst into a fit of giggles.

"Um, you can put me down now," Willow managed to squeak between laughs. Tara let her thighs slide out of her grip, and Willow gently returned to the floor, keeping her arms casually looped around Tara's waist. Tara stared at her, falling in love with her mischievous grin. Though the intense passion of the moment had been swept away, now that the shock was wearing off she was barely able to keep herself from giggling again at the absurdity of the situation.

"You're strong," Willow observed, her voice slightly dreamy. Tara blushed and looked down.

"I had kind of linked the strength thing with being all stern and intimidating. This is like... best of both worlds," Willow finished with a wink, which made Tara giggle again.

"Um, w-we should finish up here," Tara said after taking a deep breath to steady herself.

"I'll help," Willow offered, darting towards the piles of books that needed to be returned to the shelves she had been checking. Between them they managed to have everything back in its place, aside from the three more books that had gone on the 'evil' stack, in record time. Willow had to climb the ladder again to replace the volumes on the top shelves, and Tara took the chance to plant a quick kiss on the outside of her thigh, receiving a brilliant smile from Willow in return. Otherwise, though, they contained themselves.

It was as Tara was leaning down to pick up the last pair of books that she noticed something half-hidden under the bottom of the skirting board, where it didn't quite reach the floor. She handed the books to Willow and crouched down, nudging the tiny object out of hiding with the tip of her finger.

"Willow?" she called. She picked up the tiny stone disc and glanced at it, seeing the lone rune on its face, before handing it to Willow.

"Maybe," Tara thought aloud, "if they were in the circle, when he kicked the sand it got knocked away. I-is it the demon rune?" She looked over her shoulder, and saw that Willow's face had paled.

"Yes," she said, her voice hoarse. Tara was on her feet and gently holding Willow's arms by the elbows as she continued to stare at the rune, her breath coming in short gasps.

"Willow, what's wrong?" Tara asked, almost afraid to raise her voice louder than a whisper.

"The demon," she said, her voice flat and thick with buried emotion, "I've seen the demon."

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Hellebore

by Chris Cook

Copyright © 2003

alia@netspace.net.au