"The city must have been new then."

"It was. My mother was welcomed, and I was born there. She knew I was born with power, of course, and she thought I should be raised by wizards. So I was." Roxanne was still astonished that she was telling him all this, astonished she was talking to him at all; she didn't understand herself, and tried to blame the Curtain for her singular willingness to confide in him, even though she knew that wasn't it.

The frightening truth was, something about this man drew her out of herself and urged her to trust him, and she seemed helpless to fight it.

"She left you there?" His voice was still carefully dispassionate.

"She wasn't comfortable in the city. It was too new, too strange and different for her. She returned to the village, took the beating her father gave her, and went on with her life."

After a moment Tremayne said, "Would it surprise you to learn that there are places in this world where women are valued and treated well by their men?"

Knowing that her bitterness had escaped her, Roxanne gazed across the fire at him and wondered what she had heard in his deep voice. Pain? Whatever it was, it unnerved her. "It's getting late," she said, and eased down on her pallet of blankets, wrapping one around her and making sure her walking stick was near-for all the good it would do if they were to be attacked in the night by village men. But she doubted that would happen. Tremayne had been right; his presence made the night safer for her, since it was unlikely that village men would do anything to anger a male wizard.

"Good night, Roxanne. Sleep well."

She didn't bother to remind him that sleeping well was impossible with the Curtain pressing down on them. Instead she half closed her eyes and watched him through her lashes as he sat silently on his side of the fire, until weariness finally sent her into a fitful sleep.

It was just after dawn when she woke, but she didn't move right away. The fire was still burning, and Tremayne was sleeping on a pallet like hers with his coat wrapped around him. His thin face was innocent, with no sign whatsoever of the duplicity, selfishness, or cruelty she had for so long associated with male wizards, and Roxanne felt very odd as she looked at him.

By the time the sun rose and chased away the Curtain, Tremayne was stirring, and she waited until he sat up before she followed suit.

They didn't talk very much, although he made several attempts at conversation. Roxanne was deeply troubled by the strange feelings he roused in her, and she was also thinking about what she intended to do when she reached the village; the result was confusion and uncertainty on both fronts. She didn't object when he conjured a morning meal for them, and excused herself some time later in order to retreat to a nearby stream- one of the few still unspoiled-and perform her morning ablutions.

Since the sun was up, the almost automatic dread of the night was gone, and Roxanne wasn't nervous or wary. After she'd splashed her face, she conjured a bit of material to use for a towel, and was standing there patting her face dry when a heavy body suddenly burst through the undergrowth on the other side of the narrow stream. To her utter shock she found herself face-to-face with her father for the first time in her life.

She recognized Varian only because he had once been pointed out to her by an older female wizard when they had seen him crossing the road some distance from Sanctuary. Roxanne had been able to hide her distress then, but now she knew her mouth was open and her face was undoubtedly ghost white.

"God's blood, another whore!" he snapped, holding his coat about him with one hand as if chilled, even though his eyes were as hot as burning coals.

In that first seemingly eternal moment, as his crude insult stabbed her, Roxanne looked at her rather and realized with certainty that she was no part of him. That he was her sire was nothing more than an accident of chance and circumstance; he'd had no part in raising her, had no knowledge of her other than his recognition that she was a woman of power. She was no more like him than she was like her guileless, pliable mother.

It was the most incredible relief.

"I can't escape you whores," he snarled, glaring at her.

"Stay out of the valley." Roxanne was surprised at how cool her voice was.

He half lifted his free hand, fisted as if he wanted to strike her, but even before Roxanne could brace herself, he jerked the hand back to his side. "Whore!"

She wondered if he had any idea that the insult lost much of its impact with every repetition. "I'm not standing in your way," she pointed out. "In fact, I'd just as soon not be anywhere around you." She would have gone on, but Tremayne spoke as he joined her by the stream.

"I think that's clear enough, Varian. The lady would like you to leave."

Varian's mouth fell open. "You're with her? She's the reason you couldn't stay away from the city?"

Tremayne nodded calmly. "She's the reason. By the way, Varian, I won't be returning to the mountain. Thank you very much for your hospitality-and I'll be sure to give my father your regards when I reach home."

Varian didn't seem to hear him. "It isn't possible. By all the gods, it isn't possible! No whore of Atlantia would allow one of us near her…"

It was rather fascinating, Tremayne thought, to see his usually arrogant and cocksure kinsman rattled, but he had no intention of prolonging the encounter, because he didn't want to upset Roxanne. She seemed calm, but since this was undoubtedly the first time she'd actually met her father, it had to be difficult for her.

"Varian, even you can't quarrel with the evidence of your own eyes."

They saw his face go still, his eyes narrow as if at a memory, and the hand clutching his coat tightened. "She'll turn on you, Tremayne," he warned hoarsely. "She'll turn her powers on you sooner or later."

"Why would she? I would never do anything to hurt her," Tremayne responded. "Go back to your mountain, Varian, and live your life just as you wish. My life is my own concern."

Varian seemed ready to say something, but finally uttered only a strangled sound of frustration and stalked past them. Roxanne and Tremayne both turned as the older wizard passed, instinctively avoiding having their backs to him. When he was out of sight and hearing, she looked up at Tremayne.

"You didn't tell him who I was," she said gravely.

"No." Tremayne hesitated, then added, "I can't tell how you feel about it, but I know one thing for certain, Roxanne-it doesn't matter who your father is, because who and what you are has nothing to do with him. It doesn't matter any more than it matters that almost everyone around you believes you and I have to hate and fear each other. All that matters is that you make up your own mind-about who you want to be, and about me. Please. That's all I ask."

She nodded slightly, and said, "He's… really not very alarming, is he?"

Tremayne smiled. "Well, in terms of power he's formidable, but he often seems rather like a bully trying to get his way. Is that what you mean?"

Roxanne nodded again, this time more definitely, then straightened her shoulders. "It was a bit like coming face-to-face with the monster in your dreams and discovering it was really only shadows on a wall. Nothing. I'm glad I met him. I'm not afraid of him anymore."

"Good," Tremayne said easily. He hadn't planned on any of what had occurred during this hike, but the results more than satisfied him. "Now, if you're ready, we can continue on across the valley."

"I'm ready," Roxanne said.

Kerry hadn't been close enough to hear what went on when the angry male wizard talked to Roxanne and Tremayne, but when they continued, she followed them a bit closer than she had the day before. Chloe was no longer in her backpack; she held the doll tightly as she walked.