Convergence

  But Vallant turned to see that the driver was already on his way down the drive, which had to mean his charges had been taken care of in advance. That was perfectly all right with Vallant, since it let him turn back to the woman with a small but gallant bow.

  “Apparently I’m to be all yours without delay,” he said with another smile. “Are you the owner of this lovely house?”

  “Oh, my, no,” the girl said with a timid and embarrassed laugh, now looking even younger than she had. “This is the house of Dama Tamrissa Domon, and I’m Warla, her companion. We’ve been told to expect you, Captain Ro, and your room is ready. If you’ll follow me?”

  The girl said that as if she expected he wouldn’t, so he smiled and bowed again and gestured her ahead of him. She kept glancing back as she moved, apparently afraid she might lose him, and once inside she did manage to lose his attention. The large entrance hall was decorated with paintings and obviously expensive tables with vases and statuettes standing next to ornate chairs, all of which managed to overcrowd the area. It was as if someone were trying to prove how much gold they had, and they’d decided to show the world rather than say the words.

  “Your room is this way, Captain.” Warla’s gentle reminder that he’d slowed almost to a stop pulled Vallant away from the unkind assessment he’d been in the midst of. The girl waited at the foot of the very wide staircase, but she began to climb it as soon as it was obvious that he was ready to follow again.

  “Dom Domon must be a very wealthy man to have furnished his house the way he did,” Vallant commented as he moved up the stairs. “I assume I’ll be meetin’ him later at dinner?”

  “Oh, but the dom is gone,” Warla told him over her shoulder with more upset than the statement called for. “He’s dead, I mean, and Tamrissa lives here alone now. Or at least she used to be alone.”

  It sounded to Vallant as if the girl had swallowed a giggle at the end of her comment, which made him sigh. So his hostess was a widow, probably an older lady who had no children, and that was why she’d offered her house as a residence. And Warla seemed to expect that her employer would take an interest in him, which wasn’t the best of news. Back home a number of the older ladies had seemed to declare open season on him and his brothers, and when one of his brothers had decided to accommodate them, the young fool had barely escaped with all his parts intact.

  “With me around, the dama will probably still think she’s alone,” Vallant commented carefully. “I’m under a vow for as long as I stay away from home, and I’m sure you know how things like that go. I’ve had cause to regret the vow, but there’s no gettin’ out of it now.”

  Warla gave him an uncertain glance and a tremulous smile, undoubtedly having no idea what he meant but was too shy to say so. As a matter of fact Vallant had no idea what he meant either, but the tale sounded good enough for something made up on the spur of the moment. People usually hesitated before trying to interfere with “vows,” and hopefully Vallant would have found his way out of the trap by the time the dama talked herself into trying.

  At the top of the staircase Warla led him to the left, and then left again into the first room. Vallant was relieved to see an entire wall of windows opposite the door, and that let him stroll inside after Warla.

  “This will be yours while you’re with us,” she said, already edging back toward the door. “If there’s anything you need, just ask me or one of the servants.”

  Vallant was about to ask where the bath house was, but the girl left so quickly that she all but disappeared. He realized then that they’d been alone together in a bedchamber, and he chuckled in understanding while beginning to open his seabag. It had been years since any female had disliked the idea of being alone with him in a bedchamber, but that could be because he hadn’t involved himself with girls. Women were more to his taste, but right now he needed a bath more than he’d ever needed a woman.

  Vallant took his coat off and dropped it to the floor, knowing it needed cleaning as much as his cap and the rest of his clothes. After his bath he’d have a servant see to all of it, but first he had to see to himself. He carried his change of clothes downstairs, found a servant and asked the way to the bath house, then followed directions to the back garden. Every room in that house seemed to have been furnished with more money than taste, so Vallant had really high hopes for the bath house.

  He found the place easily and followed the path to it, but stopped abruptly with a muttered curse when he saw the “occupied” sign on the door. That was just the way his luck had been running lately, badly and with terrible timing. Well, he’d waited this long, so another five or ten minutes shouldn’t kill him.

  Twenty minutes later, Vallant decided he’d waited long enough. For all he knew the person inside could have died, possibly of old age. The wait had felt long enough for that to him, and on top of it all the sign might have been left accidentally on an empty house. But even if it hadn’t, he’d waited as long as he intended to.

  So Vallant opened the door and went inside, only to discover that the occupant of the bath house hadn’t died, and certainly not of old age. The way the girl jumped said she’d probably fallen asleep in the water, and before her arms came up to cover her Vallant could see that she certainly had what to cover. A ripely rounded body despite the slender frame, long, shapely legs easily visible through the clear water, light hair darkened now from being wet, a face of unexpected and exceptional beauty. High yet gentle cheekbones, a straight and delicate nose, ripely full lips… Hadn’t he already used that word “ripe” in connection with her? He wasn’t sure any longer, not with those gorgeous violet eyes there to fall into…

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” the vision suddenly demanded, pulling Vallant back from the edge of stopping to stare. “No, never mind about answering that. Just get out of here!”

  After what Vallant had gone through he was in no mood to take orders from anyone, not even an incredibly beautiful naked woman. Or especially not a beautiful woman. Every time he thought about Mirra and what her intentions had been, he quickly lost interest in all women. Happily the condition was temporary, but this time he was still able to use it for his own purposes.

  “Not until I’ve had my share of that water,” he answered her demand that he leave, spotting the towel cabinet and starting for it. “I feel singed from head to foot, not to mention broken and stomped on and covered in old sweat. I need that bath, but don’t let me hurry you. Stay as long as you like.”

  Vallant had meant to sound casual and uncaring, but somehow the words came out more as an invitation than a challenge. Obviously he found the girl even more attractive than he’d first realized, but her reply helped to take care of that. She’d gotten out of the bath while his back had been turned, and now stood muffled in a towel.

  “I don’t care what you need, or even who you are,” she came back, sounding as sharp-tongued as any harridan he’d ever met. “This bathhouse belongs to me, and I want you out of it this minute. If you refuse to leave, I’ll call the guardsmen and have you arrested for breaking in here.”

  Well, of course the bath house belonged to her, how else could she justify ordering him out? Never mind that all the property belonged to an elderly widow, he probably wasn’t supposed to know that. It bothered him that the girl would lie, but he’d obviously have to get used to being lied to by beautiful women.

  So he said, “I didn’t break in, I walked in,” at the same time turning to look at her and beginning to remove his shirt. “And if you own this house, I was told you’d be expectin’ me. I’m Vallant Ro, here in this accursed town to test for somethin’ I never wanted. If you dislike havin’ me here, you can thank the fools in our government for my presence. If not for them, I’d already be on my way back home.”

  Vallant felt a good deal of satisfaction at her appalled expression, certainly a result of having heard he was in the midst of testing for High. Most people refrained from starting up with strangers in any way, because it
was impossible to know how strong their talent was simply by looking at them. This girl had started an argument with him anyway, but ought to be regretting it right now. Vallant was sure she would be, but her next words proved she didn’t learn very quickly.

  “I’m going to speak to someone about having you put elsewhere,” she announced in a voice that trembled slightly. She’d also turned to the wall with supposed ladylike modesty when he began to take off the rest of his clothes, probably trying to impress him with the gesture. “You haven’t the first idea about civilized behavior, and I refuse to have you in my house a moment longer than absolutely necessary. And if they can’t find another place for you, I hope you’ll have to sleep in the street!”

  Vallant was too busy finally getting himself into blessed water to answer the girl’s silly tirade, and by the time he came up again she was gone. He’d been ready to tell her that he knew she didn’t own the house, but he’d have to save that for the next time they met. Which was just as well, since he was more ready for soaking than for arguing. So he moved through the water to the place the girl had been relaxing in, set his head into the headrest, then with a sigh let all his muscles release. He’d been tensed up for so long and for so many different reasons…

  The warm water was delightful, and he closed his eyes even as he wondered again why he never minded the confines of a bath house. Every time he relaxed in one the same question arose, but he’d never found an answer. Other places could twist him into knots in an instant, but bath houses, even small private ones like this, never bothered him at all. The situation made no sense, and he really wanted to get to the bottom of it. Having the answer might help him with his problem elsewhere … especially since he’d never been able to talk to anyone else about it … admitting his weakness to others appeared to be beyond him…

  But falling asleep proved to be anything but beyond him. With his eyes closed Vallant simply drifted off, floating away to a world where there were no problems. He stood again on the deck of the Sea Queen, the wind playing in his hair, gleaming water all around and as far as the eye could see. He was just about to turn to his crew and give the necessary orders, when someone dropped a belaying pin. But it wasn’t a belaying pin, and it wasn’t one of his crew.

  Vallant opened his eyes to see that a stranger had entered the bath house, a man dressed in the most foppish clothing he’d ever seen. He also seemed to be carrying another outfit of the same sort, which made his purpose in coming in more than clear.

  “Common courtesy suggests that you knock before comin’ into a bath house that’s occupied,” Vallant said in annoyance over having been yanked back to the real world. “Or don’t you know what that sign on the door means?”

  “There was no sign on the door, but common is certainly the proper word,” the fop returned in a baritone so pettish that Vallant expected the man to start fluttering a silk hankie. “Your courtesy is very common, my man, but I haven’t the strength to argue with you. Nor do I intend to share that bath. I’m accustomed to bathing alone as a gentleman should, so you will take yourself out of there at once.”

  “Will I,” Vallant murmured, studying the fool a bit more closely. His height was close to Vallant’s own, but the delicate motions of his hands suggested there was nothing but flab under those ridiculous but very expensive clothes. Vallant had seen fops like this one before, the useless sons of those who considered themselves noble. He needed a real man’s experience with life to get that petulant, little-boy look off his face, but chances were good that the fool would die of old age before that happened.

  “What if I decide I don’t want to get out of this bath?” Vallant drawled, letting his measuring stare tell the fop what he thought of him. “You’d then have to decide between throwin’ me out and waitin’ until I was ready to go. I really wonder which one you’d choose.”

  The fop colored at the very clear implication that he’d never try to throw Vallant out by himself, but he wasn’t stupid enough to deny the claim. Instead he stiffened in insult, then straightened to his full height.

  “A real gentleman makes his choices without being influenced by the lower classes,” he retorted, the words as stiff as his stance. “If I had the strength I’d make an issue of your crudity, but at the moment I’m too badly in need of that bath water. Tomorrow, after I’ve had the opportunity to rest, we can discuss this matter again.”

  And with that he turned and walked toward the towel cabinet, leaving Vallant unexpectedly surprised. The fop had been embarrassed by what Vallant had said, but he hadn’t really backed down. He’d obviously decided instead to share the bath, and since there was enough room for another six or seven people, the decision wasn’t unreasonable. But to lower himself that far, the man must really be played out…

  “I think I’ve been blind as well as insensitive,” Vallant said with sudden insight, sitting up in the molded part of the bath bottom. “You’re an applicant just the way I am, and you’re too tired because you just passed your test. What did they do to force you to participate?”

  “The Blending refused to listen to my mother’s very reasonable and courteous request,” the man answered, slamming the cabinet door after removing a towel. “Now they dare to threaten me with the unthinkable, but I refuse to be intimidated. I will find a way out of this insanity, and return to where I belong.”

  “It looks like we have somethin’ in common after all,” Vallant conceded as he rose to his feet. “I also intend goin’ back to where I belong, so let’s talk later. I’m Vallant Ro, Water magic.”

  “Lord Clarion Mardimil, Air magic,” the man grudged, apparently finding the conversation distasteful but necessary. “And yes, let us indeed compare notes later. Getting free of this horror would be worth any price. A pity it can’t be accomplished with gold.”

  “What makes you think it can’t be?” Vallant asked, automatically ignoring the man’s title as he stepped out of the bath and used what was left of his talent to remove the water from his body and hair. He sent it back to the bath with more effort than it had ever taken him, showing how tired he really was. He then picked up the towel to use on the bottoms of his feet, and that was an effort as well.

  “I never thought about offerin’ gold, which makes me feel like a fool,” Vallant continued, looking at the man Clarion thoughtfully. “Since I can afford to pay any amount they care to name, and everybody knows bribin’ is the largest industry here in Gan Garee, I wonder why I didn’t think of it.”

  “Possibly you didn’t think of it because you dislike wasting your time,” Clarion answered sourly, beginning to remove his eye-hurting clothing. “I, on the other hand, must enjoy it immensely, as I spent much too much time engaged in the useless practice. If there’s an answer, it definitely lies elsewhere.”

  “There has to be an answer,” Vallant said, shaking his head stubbornly against the suggestion that there wasn’t. “High practitioners are supposed to be willin’ to do the job, so those who are unwillin’ have to be let go at some point. That’s the point we need, as long as it isn’t one that involves dyin’…”

  The comment was true enough that Clarion made no attempt to add to it. Or maybe the man was just too intent on getting into the bath water. Vallant had been dressing slowly while Clarion undressed, and with the last of his clothing tossed aside Clarion made for the water. Once again Vallant was surprised, because the man certainly wasn’t built like your ordinary fop. His musculature was almost as good as Vallant’s own, which had been developed by long years of hard work on the decks of various ships.

  “We’ll speak again later,” Vallant said when he’d finished dressing, gathering up his dirty clothing but leaving the towel for the servants to see to. “Enjoy your bath.”

  Clarion made a sound of some sort that might have been agreement, so Vallant took it like that and simply left. If the man needed to relax as badly as he had, leaving him alone was the most considerate thing he could do. And Vallant meant to be very considerate to someone wh
o apparently had access to the Blending. If they came up with the right thing to say, that access might well get the two of them out of that waking nightmare.

  But in the meanwhile, Vallant trudged back to the main house wondering how long it would be before dinner was ready.

  He was hungry enough to eat a shark, teeth, fin and all. And maybe he’d even see that girl again. She was probably one of the servants, and would be embarrassed at the need to serve him. He’d let her squirm for a while, thinking he might have her fired, but then he’d… Let’s see, just what would he most enjoy doing to—or with – her…?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Clarion stood in the middle of the resin room, sweating so hard that an observer would have thought him a common manual laborer. His talent still sealed off all those tiny holes that had tried to suck the air out of the room, and he also continued to pull down the air from the high ceiling so he might breathe more easily. Beyond that he was frantic, for he couldn’t seem to think of a way to reach the only exit from that room. The smalldoor in the wall so far above his head, the door he couldn’t reach because there was nothing to stand on…

  Nothing to stand on. Clarion’s searching mind suddenly seized that phrase, just as if it were the answer he’d been looking for. But that was foolish. How could someone stand on nothing? There had to be something, and if there were, then that person would be standing on—

  “Standing on the nothing that’s only something to a person with Air magic,” Clarion muttered, actually disgusted with himself. He should have seen that at once, considering the experience he’d had with the phrase during childhood. Mother would come into his apartment and find him playing with his magic, and would ask him what he was doing. “Nothing, Mother,” had been his usual answer, mostly to avoid one of those lectures on what a gentleman of quality did and did not do to fill his time. He should have remembered sooner…