"Here," I said. I picked up my trencher again and held it out to her. "You may have it all."

She smiled and shook her head.

"Master!" Io gasped.

She was staring at me, and I asked her what was wrong.

"There's nobody there!"

The woman whispered, "She's your slave. Won't you give her to me? Touch her and she's mine. Touch me, and I am hers." She scarcely moved her lips when she spoke; and she looked away, toward the moon, when she said, "I am hers."

"Master, is there somebody here? Somebody I can't see?"

I told Io, "A woman with dark hair, belted with a snake skin."

"Like the flute-playing man?"

I did not remember such a man and could only shake my head.

"Come to the fire," she pleaded. She tried to pull me away.

The woman whispered, "I won't hurt you. I've come to teach you, and to give you a warning."

"And the child?"

"The child is yours. She could be mine. What harm in that?"

I told Io, "Go away. Run to the fire. Stay there till I come."

She flew as a rabbit flies the hooves of warhorses, leaping and skipping among the rocks.

"You are selfish," the woman said. "You eat, while I go hungry."

"You may eat as I did."

"But quick of wit, an excellent thing. Alas, that I cannot chew such food." She smiled, and I saw that her teeth were small and pointed, shining in the moonlight.

"I didn't know there were such women as you. Are all the people of this coast like you?"

"We have spoken before," she said.;

"Then I've forgotten it."

She studied my eyes and sank fluidly to the ground to sit beside me. "If you have forgotten me, you must have seen many things."

"Is that what you came to teach me?"

"Ah," she said. "It is my face you do not remember."

I nodded.

"And the rest is somewhat differently arranged. Yes, you are right. That is one of the things I have come to teach you."

I looked at her, seeing how fair her body was and how white. "I'd gladly learn."

Her hand caressed my thigh, but though her fingers moved with life, they felt as cold as stones. "Someday, perhaps. Do you desire me?"

"Very much."

"Later, then, as I told you. When you have recovered from that wound. But now I much teach you, as I said I would." She pointed to the moon. "Do you see the goddess?"

"Yes," I said. "But what a fool I am. A moment ago, I thought her only a crescent lamp in the sky."

"There is a shadow across her face now," the woman told me. "In seven days, the shadow will cover it wholly. Then she will become our dark goddess, and if she conies to you, you will see her so."

"I don't understand."

"I tell you these things because I know she once showed herself to you as a bright goddess when the moon was nearly full. What she has once done, she will do again, so these things are good for you to know. For a very small price, I will tell you more-things that will be of the greatest value to you."

I did not ask what the price was, because I knew; and I saw that she knew I knew. I said, "Could you take her? Even when she's sitting around the fire with the rest?"

"I could take her though she sat in the fire."

"I won't pay that price."

"Learn wisdom," she said. "Knowledge is more than gold."

I shook my head. "Knowledge is soon changed, then lost in the mist, an echo half-heard."

She rose at that, brushing the dust from her hips and thighs like any other woman. "And I sought to teach you wisdom. You mocked me when you said you were a fool."

"If I mocked you, I've forgotten it."

"Yes, that is best. To forget. But remember me when you meet my mistress in any guise. Remember that I helped you and would have helped you more, if you had been as generous to me as I to you."

"I'll try," I said.

"And I will warn you, as I promised. The child fled down this hill, and fled safely; but soon one who walks this hill will die. Listen well!"

"I am," I said.

"Then wait for the death. Afterward you may go in safety." She paused, licking her lips as she cocked her head to listen.

I listened too, and heard far off the noise a stone made falling upon a stone.

"Someone comes," she said. "I would ask you for him, but that would be your death. Notice that I am your friend, merciful and just, more than fair in every dealing."

"As you say."

"Do not forget my warning and my teaching. There is one thing more." Swiftly she went to the boulder behind which she had been waiting when I first saw her. For an instant she disappeared as she crouched to take something from the ground. Then she stood beside me again and dropped it at my feet. It clinked as coins do, tossed in the hand.

"The women here put knives beneath their children's cradles," she told me. "They tell one another they will keep us away; and though they do not-not always-it is true we do not like iron." She crouched again, this time to wipe her hands on the ground. "The reason we do not is to come."

I picked up what she had dropped. It was a chain, with a shackle at one end.

"Don't let your brat dump her rubbish into my house again," the woman said.

A man's voice, rough and deep, called, "Latro!" I glanced in the direction of his call, and when I looked again the woman was gone. The stone rested on the boulder as before. I went to it and picked it up. It was a common stone, not otherwise than any other; I tossed it away.

"Latro!" The man's voice sounded a second time.

"Over here," I called.

A tall foxskin cap came into view. "I am glad you waited," the bowman told me. "You are indeed my friend."

I said, "Yes. Soon we will walk back to the fire together, Oior." For I trusted neither the woman nor her warning, and I feared for the child.

"But not before we have spoken." The bowman paused, rubbing his chin. "A friend believes his friend."

"That's true."

"I told you I do not know the gods of this land."

I nodded; we could see each other almost as well in the bright moonlight as we might by day.

"And you do not know mine. You must believe what I say of them. A friend speaks only the truth to his friend."

I said, "I'll believe whatever you tell me, Oior. I've already seen something tonight stranger than anything you're liable to say."

He sat on the ground almost where the woman had. "Eat your food, Latro."

I sat too, on the other side of the trencher. "I've had all I want."

"As have I, Latro; but friends share food in my land." He broke a piece of bread and gave half to me.

"Here also." I ate my bread as he ate his.

"Once our land was ruled by the Sons of Cimmer," Oior began. "They were a mighty people. Their right ran from the Ister to the Island Sea. Most of all were they men mighty in magic, sacrificing the sons of the Sons of Cimmer to the threefold Artimpasa. At last their sorcerers slew even their king's son, the acolyte of Apia. She is Mother of Men and Monsters, but the boy's blood burned on Artimpasa's altar.

"But the king came to know of the sacrifice of his son, and with hands held to heaven he declared death, that no sorcerer should sacrifice again among the Sons of Cimmer. He sent forth his soldiers, saying, 'Slay every sorcerer! Leave none alive!'

"Seven sorcerers sped to the sunrise beyond the Island Sea. Death-daunted they dwelt in the desert, cutting its cliffs for their cottages and at last counting a numerous nation, the Neuri."

To show I was listening, I nodded again.

"Sorcery they sent against the Sons of Cimmer, stealing the strength from their swords. Silver they sold to the Sons of Scoloti, paid in moon-pale ponies and brides bought for their proud priests. So they learned from our lips, copied our clothes and our customs.

"Soon they said, 'Strong are the Sons of Scoloti! Why do they dwell in the desert? Strike the Sons of Cimmer, a puling people languishing in a lordly land.' Then bent we our bows and waged war.