And mine. His patience humbled her. “Well, then…”

The oil made her hands slip and slide in ways that intrigued her and seemed to please him, too. She grew more daring. That, for example, made him jerk, no, convulse, much as he’d done to her a while ago.

“Brave Spark!” he gasped.

“Is that good?”

“Yes…”

“Figured if you thought it would please me, it might be something that pleased you, too.”

“Clever girl,” he crooned, his eyes closing again.

She chilled. “Please don’t make fun of me.”

His eyes opened, and his brows drew in; he raised his head from the pillow and frowned down over his torso at her. “Wasn’t. You have one of the hungriest minds it’s ever been my pleasure to meet. You may have been starved of information, but your wits are as sharp as a blade.”

She caught her breath, lest it escape as a sudden surprised sob. His words could not be true, but oh they sounded so nice to hear!

At her shocked look, he added a little impatiently, “Come, child, you can’t be that bright and not know it.”

“Papa said I must be a fool to ask so many questions all the time.”

“Never that.” His head tilted, and his eyes took on that uncanny inward look.

“There’s a deep, dark place in your ground just there. Major fissure and blockage. I… it’s not going to be the work of an hour to find the bottom of that one, I’m afraid.”

She gulped. “Then let’s set it aside with the rest of the stones, for now.

It’ll wait.” She bent her head. “I’m neglecting you.”

“I won’t argue with that…”

Tongues, she discovered, worked like fingers on fellows quite as well, if differently, as they worked on ladies. Well, then. What would happen if she did this and also this and that at the same time…

She found out. It was fascinating to watch. Even from the oblique angle of view down here she could see his expression grow so inward it might have been a trance. For a moment, she wondered if levitation were a Lakewalker magical skill, for he seemed about to rise off the bed.

“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously, when his body stopped shuddering.

“Your forehead got all wrinkled up funny there for a minute, when your, um, back curved up like that.”

His hand waved while he regained his breath; his eyes stayed squeezed shut, but finally opened again. “Sorry, what? Sorry. Was waiting for all those white sparks on the insides of my eyelids to finish exploding. That wasn’t something to miss.”

“Does that often happen?”

“No. No, indeed.”

“Are you all right?” she repeated.

His grin lit his face like a streak of fire. “All right? I think I’m downright astounding.” From an angle of attack that would seem to allow, at best, a wallow, he lunged up and wrapped both arms around her, and dragged her back down to his chest, heedless of the mess they’d made. It was his turn to kiss her face all over. Laughter turned to accidental touching, to—

“Dag, you’re ticklish.”

“No, I’m not. Or only in certain aiee!” When he got his breath back, he added,

“You’re fiendish, Spark. I like that in a woman. Gods. I haven’t laughed this much in… I can’t remember.”

“I like how you giggle.”

“I was not giggling. That would be undignified in a man of my years.”

“What was that noise, then?”

“Chortling. Yes, definitely. Chortling.”

“Well,” she decided, “it looks good on you. Everything looks good on you.”

She sat up on her elbow and let her gaze travel the long route down his body and back. “Nothing looks good on you, too. It’s most unfair.”

“Oh, as if you aren’t sitting there looking, looking…”

“What?” she breathed, sinking back into his grip.

“Naked. Edible. Beautiful. Like spring rain and star fire.”

He drew her in again; their kisses grew longer, lazier. Sleepier. He made a great effort, and reached out and turned off the lamp. Soft summer-night air stirred the curtains. He flung the sheet up and let it settle over them. She cuddled into his arm, pressing her ear to his chest, and closed her eyes.

To the ends of the world, she thought, melting into deeper darkness.

Dag spent the radiant summer dawn proving beyond doubt to Fawn that her last night’s first-in-a-lifetime experience needn’t be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. When they woke from the ensuing sated nap, it was midmorning. Dag seriously considered the merits of lying low till the patrols had taken their planned departure, but unexpectedly sharp hunger drove both him and Fawn to rise, wash, dress, and go see if breakfast was still to be had downstairs.

Fawn entered the staircase ahead of Dag and turned sideways to let Utau, clumping up to collect more gear to load, pass her by. Dag smiled brightly at his sometime-linker. Utau’s head cranked over his shoulder in astonishment, and he walked into the far wall with a muffled thud, righted himself, and wheeled to stare. Prudently deciding to ignore that, Dag followed Fawn before Utau could speak. Dag suspected he needed to get better control of his stretching mouth, as well as of his sparking ground. A responsible, mature, respected patroller should not walk about grinning and glowing like some dementedly carved pumpkin.

It was like to frighten the horses.

Mari’s patrol was slated to ride north and pick up their pattern again where it had been broken off almost two weeks ago by the call for aid. With his patrol’s purse newly topped off by the Glassforgers, Chato planned to continue on his mission to purchase horses from the limestone country south of the Grace. He would be slowed on the first leg by a wagon to carry Saun and Reela, neither quite ready to ride yet; the pair were to finish convalescing at a Lakewalker camp that controlled a ferry crossing down on the river, and be picked up again on the return journey. Both patrols had planned their removals for the crack of noon, a merciful hour. Dag sensed Chato’s moderating influence at work. Mari was perfectly capable of ordering a dawn departure after a bow-down, then concealing her evil hilarity behind a rod-straight face as her bleary troop stumbled out.

Mari was far and away Dag’s favorite relative, but that was a pretty low fence to get over, and he prayed to the absent gods that he might avoid her altogether this morning.

After breakfast Dag helped lug the last of Saun’s gear to the wagon, and turned to find his prayers, as usual, unanswered. Mari stood holding the reins of her horse, staring at him in mute exasperation.

He let his eyebrows rise, trying desperately not to smile. Or worse, chortle.

“What?”

She drew a long breath, but then just let it out. “Besotted fool. There’s no more use trying to talk to you this morning than to those twittering wrens in that elm across the yard. I said my piece. I’ll see you back in camp in a few weeks. Maybe the novelty will have worn off by then, and you’ll have your wits back, I don’t know. You can do your own blighted explaining to Fairbolt, is all I can say.”

Dag’s back straightened. “That I will.”

“Eh!” She turned to gather her reins, but then turned back, seriousness replacing the aggravation in her eyes. “Be careful of yourself in farmer country, Dag.”

He would have preferred a tart dressing-down to this true concern, against which he had no defense. “I’m always careful.”

“Not so’s I ever noticed,” she said dryly. Silently, Dag offered her a leg up, which she accepted with a nod, settling in her saddle with a tired sigh. She was growing thinner, he thought, these last couple of years. He gave her a smile of farewell, but it only made her lean on her pommel and lower her voice to him. “I’ve seen you in a score of moods, including foul. I’ve never before seen you so plain happy. Enough to make an old woman weep, you are… Take care of that little girl, too, then.”