Shirin lost the thread of the conversation, feeling only the glorious warmth that penetrated her bones and the slow, spreading wave of relaxation that seemed to radiate out from Mikele's thumbs.

"Why did you bring your dear friend here?"

Thyatis put down the wooden mug on the table and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Across from her, leaning back against an ancient carved wooden chair with a high back, the Matron regarded her. Darkness had come, stealing across the jagged peaks of the island, filling the bowl of the lagoon, covering the hidden windows with the shade of night. Thyatis sat in a small alcove cut into the side of the Matron's quarters, at a table of ancient cedarwood, with her legs tucked up under her. The alcove looked out, hidden by a crumbling outthrust cliff, over the lagoon. An embrasure had been carefully cut along the natural line of the rock, keeping the little balcony hidden from those who might look up from below. A long afternoon had passed between them, and now dinner was done as well. A few plates stood between them on the table- simple hand-fired bowls and plates such as the Matron loved- and a red-checked amphora of Cretan wine.

"I"- Thyatis smiled, her teeth white in the twilight- "I don't think I even considered taking her anywhere else."

"Hmm: " The Matron looked out, over the lagoon, listening to the rhythmic slap of the water on the narrow beach below. "You brought her home, I think. To a place you felt safe. You chose well, my dear. She will be safe among us, while the island stands. But I do not think you made that decision bereft of all thought."

"How so?" Thyatis said, drawing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around them. "All that time seems a blur to me."

"Oh," the Matron laughed in her quiet way, "your head may not have thought, but your heart surely did. Tell me, why did you bring her to us as an ephebe, a student, a novitiate of the Huntress? We would have taken her in without such an ancient ceremony- many women who have found sanctuary here have never taken the oaths. Why bring her to me in clothes of an ancient cut? Why have her recite, so formally, that hoary old greeting?"

Thyatis flushed, and scratched her scalp furiously, looking away. "I don't know: it just seemed the proper way to do it. I had forgotten about the Unsworn:"

"Pah!" the Matron barked, and she took a shelled nut out of the bowl on the table. She chewed it slowly, her eyes hard on Thyatis, who found that she could not meet them. "There is more than ceremony and tradition afoot in your addled brain. Tell me this, then: If she were gone away tomorrow, would you miss her?"

"Yes." Thyatis sighed, burying her face in her knees. "I miss her now, with her gone each day to train in the Temple of the Way. I should go on to Rome- the Duchess will be angry if I delay much longer- but it is hard to think of not seeing her."

"Ah, I thought as much. Tell me this, my dear, what would you do if she were to die?"

Thyatis looked up, her face grim.

"The man who dared touch her would pay dearly," she said in a tight voice. "Why are you asking me all of these questions?"

"Hmm: morbid curiosity, I suppose. Sometimes stray thoughts come to me like kittens seeking a bowl of fresh cream and a warm lap. This is the one that you inspire- you brought the lovely Shirin to us, to the island, so that she might be your phedaia."

"My what?" Thyatis squinted at the Matron, who raised an eyebrow at her.

"Old Lycurgus may take offense at my misusing a word he first coined, but I believe it means something like shield-sister. That is what you want, isn't it?"

Thyatis was puzzled, her face filled with confusion. "Shirin? You mean, I brought her here- you think I want to send her into battle? Make her an assassin? No, I don't want that:"

The Matron raised a hand, forestalling the confusion that was threatening to spill out of Thyatis' lips. "No, dear, not an image of you- rather an equal, or a partner. Someone who matches you in skill and talent. A sweet thought, if an unconscious one."

"Wait. Do you think- will she stay with me?"

"Stay? No one can tell the future- but that is what you want, is it not? For her to be at your side, as long as you live?"

"Yes." Thyatis' voice was very low. The Matron smiled a little, watching hidden thoughts flicker across the young woman's face like deer racing in the sun and shadow of a forest. "I would like that."

"You want that," the Matron corrected her, laying her hand on Thyatis' arm. "You have been her protector, her guide, her rescuer. Is that enough for you, to shield her from the pain of the world and be responsible for her? To see that her children are fed and grow up strong? To have her at your back, at the hearth, waiting for you to return from war?"

"No!" Thyatis looked up, her face filled with disgust. "I do not own her!"

"Indeed," the Matron said in a very dry tone, "you do not. And so you bring her to us- not for sanctuary or to be hidden away from the world while the Duchess and these Emperors decide her fate. No, you are much more trouble than that:. This is the thing that you desire: a friend, a partner, this phedaia who is your equal- not your master, not your slave- who stands at your side. A like mind and will with which to make delightful compromise. Do you want that?"

"Yes," Thyatis said, almost in tears, "I want that."

"Hmm: perhaps you will have it, but I wonder if you will be content."

Waves, curling white and pale green, boomed along the shore. The sun stood high in the sky, a bone white disk. The surf ran up the slope of the beach, tumbling black sand around Thyatis' bare feet. Beyond the breakers the sea was a limpid green mirror. She walked slowly along the edge of the surf, her toes digging into the damp sand. The freckles that hid along the tops of her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose were very strong. Her hair was loose, hanging in a heavy redgold cloud along the curve of her back. A broad plaited straw hat shaded her eyes, cast a deep sea green by the water that stretched away to the horizon. A jug of wine on a leather thong bumped against a swatch of colored cloth she had wrapped around her hips. The tiny strip of sand turned, running under a great escarpment of towering black stone. Here, on the very northern tip of the island, a shelf of bubbled lava made a catchment for Thira's lone beach that faced the outer sea.

Around the corner the beach widened a little, and there, on a low dune of sand, was a pavilion of wooden poles and plaited rope with a canopy of white linen. Thyatis walked up, her feet splashing in the edge of the surf. In the shade of the canopy, Shirin sat up on her elbows, her sun-darkened face wreathed in a slow brilliant white smile. Her hair was loose, too, save for two braids that fell like gleaming dark ropes down on either side of her neck. Tiny blue ribbons were twisted into the braids. She was wearing a thin cotton top and had kicked aside her sandals. On one slim ankle she had clasped a silver bangle with tiny golden bells. Thyatis knelt under the canopy and turned, brushing the sand off of her feet.

"Ah, you burn so easily." Shirin sat up and ran her fingers over Thyatis' shoulder. Flakes of blistered skin peeled away under Shirin's fingernail. Thyatis hissed and turned. Shirin's face was only inches away. Her dark eyes seemed enormous. Thyatis was suddenly conscious of her friend's breast pressed against her arm. The thin cotton seemed incapable of keeping in the heat of Shirin's body. Thyatis tossed her head a little, clearing rogue curls from her eyes. She felt a little cold. "Yes, I'm not fit for these sunny skies. Some nice gray rain is what Ineed: ow!"