The man lunged forward, snatching her cloak. Whirling, she left it in his hand and stood ’round to face him, clad in travelers’ breech and shirt.

He threw the cloak aside and the creature who had guided her here scrambled forward in the dirt, wadding the cloth against her. The man lunged again.

Moonhawk danced away, but his hand had touched her arm. Thrusting away fear, she stood straight, and, staring into his dull, exultant eyes, reached out, as those in Circle may—

His cry was hoarse with terror and he bent double, hands gripping his privates. “It burns! Noble Lady—aid me!”

Moonhawk stepped around him. “Be still and you will have no pain. Seek to harm me and you will burn.” She withdrew her attention from the man and laid it upon Lady Drudae.

“I am charged by the Mother’s word to come to this place. I require—”

It was here that the Goddess in Her wisdom withdrew Her hand from about the person of Her daughter and allowed a well-aimed rock to fell her from behind.

* * *

THE EYES WERE open and of indeterminate hue; the face was blank, whether by intent or by nature it was not yet possible to know.

Lute nodded pleasantly and smiled.

“How lovely to see you wake! Allow me to offer congratulations. The mountain has only recently stopped wailing, from which I surmise that your aim is superior to my own. Well-played! I wish I’d been there to see it. Sound is useful, but I sometimes find it a bit confusing when not aided by sight. Don’t you?”

The eyes blinked once, slowly.

“Who are you?”

“A thousand apologies, Stranger Lady! I am Lute, Master of prestidigitation, illusion, and sleight-of-hand. No doubt you’ve heard of me.”

The eyes closed. Lute sighed and settled back against the dirt wall.