"What do you believe?" Macurdy asked. "About the Tigers. Is Sarkia right?"

"If she were not, Idri would already have deposed her. To the Tigers, Sarkia is their mother. Idri would murder her if she could, and hang someone else for it. And of course, Sarkia knows that very well. She keeps guards around her always, and has her own cooks."

Good lord, Macurdy thought, what a mess. "What about you?" he asked. "She trusts you, and you already run things for her. Wouldn't the Guards back you if she told them to? I'll bet the Sisters would-Cloister Sisters and Outland Sisters."

"Not against the Tigers. Conceivably they might, if I were charismatic, but I am not. Varia, on the other hand, is charismatic, and you are doubly so. You do not realize the respect the older Tigers have for you, from Quaie's War. They are not a breed much given to thought, but they are observant, and in their way, intelligent. And they admire charisma, something largely lacking in themselves."

She paused for a long silent moment. "Will you do it?" she asked.

Is this why I came back? Macurdy wondered. Or part of the reason? He wished Vulkan were there. "Omara," he said, "I can't answer you now. The most I can promise is that I'll tell Varia what Sarkia wants. But Varia loves Cyncaidh, of that I'm sure. She told me herself, and her aura backed her words. And they have children." As we had. Have. Taken from her by Sarkia as nurslings, as property of the Sisterhood. Could she be influenced by them? And what would Cyncaidh say or do if she decided she did want to leave him? From what he knew of the ylf, it was not inconceivable he might accept her decision.

"Tell Sarkia to hang on and hope," Macurdy said. "Maybe serendipity will help."

Omara actually frowned. "Serendipity?"

"It's a Farside word. I learned it from Varia. It means that sometimes something unexpected happens, and bails you out. It's nothing to depend on, but it's saved my ass more than once."

"Ah… Serendipity." She pronounced it carefully, tasting it. "I will remember that word. To my knowledge, we do not have one like it."

She got gracefully to her feet. Sisters, Macurdy told himself, are always graceful. "Now that we have discussed the Sisterhood's business," she said, "shall we discuss yours?"

"Mine?"

"I am a healer, Macurdy. The best. And an important part of my skill is seeing more in an aura than others do. In yours I see buried grief. Grief and loss." She stepped toward him till they were only a foot apart. His breath felt trapped in his chest, and testosterone flowed. "Shall I heal you?" she murmured.

Without waiting for an answer, she slipped her arms round him. He felt her body against his, lowered his face to hers, felt her lips…

Brief minutes later they lay beside one another, bare flanks touching. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Sorry? Why?"

"For being so rough. In such a hurry."

"Do not apologize. I remember what you were like before: thoughtful and skilled. But this time I did not intend or expect that. This was catharsis. It was to loosen the grief, put it in perspective." She chuckled. "A treatment I made up on the spur of the moment, and found highly agreeable.

"Now," she added, "tell me about that grief."

Omara already knew of the twofold loss of Varia: her abduction from Farside by Idri and Xader, then her marriage to Cyncaidh. And the loss of Melody, a loss that had driven him back to Farside. Now he told her of Mary. The settings and situations were strange to her, less than real, but her talent perceived both his love and Mary's. When he'd finished, Omara was very sober.

"Macurdy," she said, "you are a highly fortunate man, and your Mary was a highly fortunate woman. You had a love seldom known to either women or men, at least in Yuulith. And while you may not believe me, Mary still lives, in the spirit world, as Melody does. A clean, good, bright place. She is simply absent from your waking life."

Waking life. He remembered Mary visiting him, with their daughter. Remembered her words. Had it been more than a dream? And Melody's visit, that night in the surrey as he'd taken her body to Teklapori. He'd never known whether he'd been awake or sleeping, having a dream, or a visitation. Or maybe both. Either way it had helped.

"Sometimes I believe," he said. "For a little while anyway."

He raised himself on an elbow and looked down at Omara. "It's funny about you. It seems like you don't feel emotions, but at the same time you understand them better than just about anyone."

"Everyone has emotions, Macurdy. In some they are frozen-in some people who are ruled by fear. In others they are like quicksilver, in still others like flame. In some they are like a flood, leaving no footing for reason. Mine are quiet, and modulated by reason, but they are not cold."

Leaning over her, he kissed her lips. "You know what?" he murmured. "If you give me another chance, I'll do a better job as a lover."

14 Electric Luck

The next morning, Macurdy had breakfast with Wollerda and Liiset. His first question was directed to the queen. "Do you happen to know how wide the Ocean Sea is?" he asked.

"Actually I do. Thanks to you and Varia's ylf lord, we've developed substantial trade with the empires. And along with a change of attitude, one of the things we've gotten is books. We have a library at the Cloister now, something unthought of twenty years ago. One book I've read cites an ancient crossing from Hithmearc-which is the name of the other side. It supposedly took fifty-eight days."

Hithmearc! Macurdy thought. That clinches it. The Voitusotar are definitely the threat. And I bet she knows it.

Liiset noticed his reaction. "What is it?" she asked.

He fudged. "It's hard to imagine danger coming so far. But it's hard to imagine Vulkan being wrong, too."

She gazed intently at him for another moment, aware that his answer had been less than candid. "True," she said nodding.

"Closer to home," Wollerda broke in, "how are you fixed for money, Macurdy?"

The question led to Wollerda buying Piglet. Ozian horses were prized throughout the Rude Lands, and Wollerda used this to replenish Macurdy's depleted cash. Meanwhile Liiset arranged for cash from the Sisterhood's embassy. If Macurdy was to take a message to the Western Empire, she said, he must be paid for his expenses, influence, and time.

Meanwhile the royal saddle maker was ordered to create a suitable saddle for Macurdy's new mount: Vulkan. The man was dismayed at the time requirement; he couldn't possibly form a saddle by midday to fit a giant boar. Macurdy assured him he planned no military or hunt riding, in fact little if anything beyond an easy road trot. "I just need something to ease the wear and tear on Vulkan's back and my butt," he said.

He settled for spending that day and night at the palace-or near it. That afternoon he rode tree-lined country lanes with Wollerda. Mostly they talked about the old times, the revolution. The threat from across the Ocean Sea came up only tangentially-Macurdy mentioned that on his way north, he planned to visit Jeremid. "If an army is needed," he said, "I want him as a commander."

That night Liiset invited Omara too to share the royal bath. And afterward the Sister shared Macurdy's bed again.

The saddle was delivered at breakfast. It fitted as far forward as proper movement would allow, to reduce the stress on Vulkan's more lightly constructed hindquarters and spinal column. Macurdy worried about how it would feel to the boar, until Vulkan told him: ‹My friend, it will be quite satisfactory. And should it turn out otherwise, you can buy a horse along the way, or ride bareback.›