Miriam felt her knees go weak with relief. "It was the sensible thing to do," she said. The roaring subsided. She took a sip of wine to cover her confusion, and after a moment she felt calm enough to ask, "Why are you here?"

"Here? At this happy occasion in particular, or this primitive city in general?" He seemed amused by her question. "I have the honor of being a hostage against my brother's safe return and the blood treaty between our families." Was it really amusement, or was it ironic detachment? Miriam blinked: she was finding James Lee remarkably difficult to read, but at least now she could place his accent. Lee's family had struck out for the west coast two centuries ago. In the process they'd gotten lost, detached from the Clan, world-walking to the alien timeline of New Britain rather than the United States. His accent was New British-a form of American English, surely, but one that had evolved differently from the vernacular of her own home. "I cannot travel far." He nodded toward a couple of unexceptional fellows standing near the door. "But they let me out to mingle with society. I know Leon." Another nod at the balding middle-aged groom, now chatting animatedly to Kara's father from his throne at the far end of the room. "We play cards regularly, whist and black knave and other games." He raised his glass. "And so, to your very good health!"

Miriam raised her own glass: "And to yours." She eyed him speculatively. He was, she began to realize, a bit of a hunk-and with brains, too. What that implied was interesting: he was a hostage, sure, but might he also be something more? A spy, perhaps?

"Are you here because of, of her?" asked Lee, glancing at the platform.

"Yes." Miriam nodded. "She was my lady-in-waiting. Before this happened."

"Hmph." He studied her face closely. "You say that as if it came as a surprise to you, milady."

"It did." Damn, I shouldn't be giving this much away! "I wasn't asked my opinion, shall we say." It was probably the wine, on an empty stomach, she realized. She was feeling wobbly enough as it was, and the sense of isolation was creeping up on her again.

"I'd heard a rumor that you were out of favor."

He was fishing, but he sounded almost sympathetic. Miriam looked at him sharply. Handsome is as handsome does, she reminded herself. "A rumor?"

"There's a, a grapevine." He shrugged. "I'm not the only guest of the families who is gathered to their bosom with all the kind solicitude due an asp"-he snorted-"and people will talk, after all! One rumor made play of a scandal between you and a youngblood of the duke's faction who, regrettably, died some months ago in an incident nobody will discuss: according to others, you kicked up a fuss sufficient to wake the dead, rattling skeletons in their closets until other parties felt the need to remove you from the game board to the toy box, if you will pardon the mixed metaphor." He raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure the truth is both less scandalous and more sympathetic than any of the rumors would have it."

"Really." She smiled tightly and took a full mouthful of wine. "As a matter of fact both the rumors are more or less true, in outline at least. I'm pleased you're polite enough not to raise the third one: it would be interesting to compare notes on the climate in New Britain some day, but right now I suspect we'd only upset our minders."

Now it was Lee's turn to look unhappy. "I want you to know that I did not approve of the attempts on your life," he said rapidly. "It was unnecessary and stupid and-"

"Purely traditional." Miriam finished her wine and pushed her glass at him. "Right. And you're young and sensible and know how your hidebound grandparents ought to be running the family if they weren't stuck in the past?"

He gave her an ironic smile as he refilled both their glasses. "Exactly. Oh dear, this bottle appears to be empty, I wonder how that happened?" He made a minute gesture and a servant came sidling up to replace it: How does he do that? Miriam wondered.

"Let me guess." Her nose was beginning to prickle, a sure sign that she'd had enough and that she needed to be watching her tongue, but right now she didn't care about discretion. Right now she felt like letting her hair down, and damn the consequences for another day. Besides, Lee was handsome and smart and a good listener, a rare combination in this benighted backwater. "You'd been kicking shins a little too hard, so the honorable head of the family sent you here when he needed a hostage to exchange with Angbard. Right?"

James Lee sighed. "You have such an interesting idiom-and so forthright. To the bone. Yes, that is exactly it. And yourself…?"

Miriam frowned. "I don't fit in here," she said quietly. "They want to shut me in a box. Y'know, where I come from, women don't take that. Not second-class citizens, not at all. I grew up in Boston, the Boston of the United States. Able to look after myself. It's different to the world you know: women have the vote, can own property, have legal equality, run businesses-" She took a deep breath, feeling the bleak depression poised, ready to come crashing down on her again. "You can guess how well I fit in here."

"Hmm." His glass was empty. Miriam watched as he refilled it. "It occurs to me that we shall both be drunk before this is over."

"I can think of less appropriate company to get drunk in." She shrugged, slightly unbalanced by everything. A discordance of strings sought their tune from a balcony set back above the doorway, musicians with acoustic instruments preparing to play something not unlike a baroque chamber piece. "And in the morning we'll both be sober and Kara will still be married to some fellow she hadn't even met yesterday." She glanced around, wishing there was somewhere she could spit to get the nasty taste out of her mouth.

"This is a problem for you?"

"It's not so much a problem as a warning." She took a step backward and leaned against the wall. She felt tired. "The bastards are going to marry me off," she heard herself explaining. "This is so embarrassing. Where I grew up you just don't do that to people. Especially not to your daughter. But Mom's got her-reasons-and I suppose the duke thinks he's got his, and I, I made a couple of mistakes." Fucking stupid ones, she thought despairingly. It could be worse; if I wasn't lucky enough to be a privileged rich bitch and the duke's niece to boot, they'd probably have killed me, but instead they're just going to nail me down and use me as a pawn in their political chess game. Oops. She put a hand to her mouth. Did I say any of that aloud? Lee was watching her sympathetically.

"We could elope together," he offered, his expression hinting that this suggestion was not intended to be taken entirely seriously.

"I don't think so." She forced a grin. You're cute but you're no Roland. Roland I'd have eloped with in a split second. Damn him for getting himself killed… "But thanks for the offer."

"Oh, it was nothing. If there's anything I can do, all you need is to ask."

"Oh, a copy of the family knotwork would do fine," she said, and hiccoughed.

"Is that all?" He shook his head. "They'd chase you down if you went anywhere in the three known worlds."

"Three known worlds?" Her glass was empty again. Couples were whirling in slow stately circles around the dance floor, and she had a vague idea that she might be able to join them if she was just a bit more sober: her lessons had covered this one-

"Vary the knotwork, vary the destination." James shrugged. "Once that much became clear, two of our youngsters tried it. The first couple of times, they got headaches and stayed where they were. On the second attempt one of them vanished, then came back a few hours later with a story about a desert of ice. On the third attempt, they both vanished, and stayed missing."