Quicksilver's Knight

by Christopher Stasheff

  In self-defense, he did the only thing he could; he waited till her anger slackened, then opened his shield and enveloped her mind in the strongest emotion he had ever known—his own aching, yearning, covetous desire for her, mind and body, for the totality of all that was Quicksilver, Jane, Woman...

  Her own shield could hold only a few seconds against such a barrage. Against anger, against hatred, she could have held all day—but against desire, and most particularly desire so thoroughly imbued with love, no matter how much he would deny the word, she could have no defense, and her own shields melted and were gone.

  For a blinding moment, the world went away, the leaves and horses and trackway disappeared, and he was aware only of her all about him, her mind pulsing, quivering with alarm, but with desire also, flashing with ecstasy where her consciousness touched his, and he was exalted, made euphoric by the closeness, by her presence. Here and there, awareness began to mingle, thoughts to share...

  Then it was gone, and the world was back, and she was staring at him wild-eyed, breasts heaving, frightened though summoning anger to defend herself, but still the world was only her...

  Finally, Geoffrey found his voice. "Your pardon. I had not meant for that to happen."

  "Do not tell me that you are not delighted that it did!" It was an angry accusation, but did he detect a note of desperate longing beneath it?

  "Why, I am delighted, though I would never do it again without your leave," he breathed—and for a moment, the world was gone again, and her mind pulsed all about his in a luminescent rose-shot pearly haze, drawing, pulling, aching with desire ... Then the pearly cloud was gone, and her staring face was back. "You did it again!" she accused.

  For once, Geoffrey understood very clearly that he must take the blame for something he had not done. "I did, and I fear that I will again at the slightest opportunity, for I cannot keep myself within the bounds of my head, when you are so near."

  "Then I shall never be so near again!" She turned away, breaking eye contact, more frightened than angry—and she was right, she was gone, or at least her mental presence was, and the world had gone gray all about him, he mourned within, for the life had gone out of the earth...

  The temptation rose in him, the furious beating lust and craving, the impulse to take by force what he so coveted, but he fought it down, knowing that what he truly sought could never be taken or forced, for it had to be given, or it would no longer exist.

  She pushed her horse forward, just a few steps, just enough so there was no chance of their eyes meeting again, and rode ramrod—straight to hide her own trembling. Geoffrey knew she was hiding trembling, because he was—and at that moment, he knew that he would always know what her feelings were, no matter how far apart they might happen to be. It was a foolish notion, and quite impossible even for two telepaths, but it was there.

  Then it passed, and the life seemed to come back into the day; its colors revived more brightly than ever. In place of the anger of loss rose the exultation of having experienced bliss, and if it had been only for a moment, that moment was timeless; if worse came to worst, he knew he could live on that moment for the rest of his life.

  But he need not, for he rode in Quicksilver's company, and as long as he was near her, there was always the chance that it would happen again. He rode through the forest in the golden light of late afternoon, his gaze caressing every inch of her back, every strand of her hair, his heart singing within him.

  She was still brittle, though, even formal, when they camped for the night. "Do sleep on one side the fire, sir, and I'll sleep on the other!"

  The temptation rose up in him then, and he yielded to it, not because it was too strong to resist, but because he suddenly did not see why he should. He stepped closer, his hand coming up to touch her waist ever so lightly. "Oh, what need is there of fire, damsel, when the heat of our passion would be light enough!"

  "Nay, sir!" she cried, but did not step away, only stood quivering, longing for his touch to deepen. "The fire between us must prevent the fire inside from burning us to destruction!"

  "But you have seen the fire within me now," he pleaded, "and know how it does burn me, does drive me to distraction with my longing for you—and not just for your sweet, fair body, no, but for your mind also, and your heart, which I know yearns for me as ardently as mine yearns for you!"

  "For shame, sir!" She was shocked to hear her voice tremble. "You have looked where you had no right, and use my own feelings to bend me!"

  "If there were need for more than my own ardour and yours, I would never seek to bend." His face swam closer. "Nay, damsel, where is the harm in it if two who do burn for one another are united in such a conflagration that it might engulf all their world?"

  "I shall burn ere I yield me!" There were tears in her voice now, and her whole body trembled with yearning. "Thee, only thee," he whispered, "for our duel this afternoon has shown me that only with thee can I begin to approach the heights of ecstasy that are the reward for those of us who must suffer the curse of loneliness that comes from the strangeness of our minds! Oh, if you must suffer that severance, then do not hesitate to take the ecstasy that is yours by right, that those who delight in the normality of the human state and the assurance of community may never know! If you must suffer in isolation because of your difference, revel now in the pleasures that only we can learn! Come to me now, and never seek to draw away!"

  She could only stand, trembling, as his lips closed over hers, and as he drank the sweetness of her mouth, she felt herself burning in every limb until she caught fire and, reaching up to press his head against her own, drew on him as though she would drain him of every iota of life force ...

  Until the first, vaguest tendril of his mind touched hers. Frightened at the surge of desire that surpassed even that of her body, she leaped back, crying, "Nay, sir! Never! Whiles I am your prisoner, no!"

  "Never seek to tell me you do not desire me as hotly as I desire you," he said softly.

  "Oh, do not torment me so!" she cried in anguish, clenching her fists. "My body betrays my mind and my heart, and never seek to tell me that it does not, for you have no right to know what you have seen!"

  "Why, then, I am blind," Geoffrey murmured, "but even blinded, I would know you long for me as I long for you. It is there in the heat of your touch, in the flash of your eyes, in the sweetness of your lips..."

  "They are none of them yours to know! None of them! Nay, stand off from me, sir! Stand off, and lie down if you must, but lie down far from me, and let the flames blaze high between!"

  He stood looking at her, and for a moment, the forlorn aching was so clear in his face that she nearly cried out, nearly went to him, nearly relented—but then, thank Heaven, he composed his features, hiding his longing, and gave her a rueful smile that felt like a benison, and a fall of cool water in the heat of the desert. "Why, then I shall lie far from you," he said, "for I shall not lie to you though I need tell you no fuller a truth than you tell to me."

  She stared at him a moment, not understanding.

  Then she did, and indignation came to her rescue, a trace of anger threading through to break the shackles of desire and free her to defy him again. She lifted her chin and gave him her proudest, most disdainful look.

  "Know only this," he said, his voice a caress, "that my mind and heart are completely in accord with my body."

  "So," she said, with full hauteur, "are mine."

  "I do not believe you," he whispered.

  "What, has a woman no right to a lie?" she blazed. "Nay, sir, sleep you on your own side of the fire!"

  "What, with only hot coals to withold me?" Geoffrey said, his gaze smouldering into her eyes. "You would do better to bid me lay my sword between us, milady, for I am sworn to honor that."

  "I am not your lady!" she raged. "And I will have you sleep on the other side of a wall of flame, or I will have your head! Nay, if you sleep too deep, I will have your head anyway—for I may have yielded me by m
y vow, but if you seek to keep me so, you must never be sure of me!"

  CHAPTER 12

  Geoffrey studied her for a long moment, brooding; then he nodded. "I believe you, mi ... Chieftain. But I must sleep, or I shall be too sluggish to fight."

  She gave him a smile of harsh satisfaction. "It is a true dilemma, is it not? You must not sleep, so that you may guard against me, in case I attack by night—but if you do not sleep, you will be too slow if I attack by day."

  "My remedy, then, is as always with a dilemma, to step outside its terms," Geoffrey said, smiling.

  "Outside?" Quicksilver frowned, eyeing him warily. "How can you do that?"

  "Why, you assume that you and I have only ourselves to guard with," Geoffrey said. "But you have a hundred men and a score of women warding your slumber, whether you know it or not."

  "Aye." Quicksilver's eyes gleamed with amusement. "And though I may have sworn to yield to you if you bested me with your sword, my band has not! Whether I wish it or no, they are quite capable of falling upon you in your sleep and bearing me off!"

  Geoffrey nodded. "Therefore I, too, must seek a guardian." He did not tell her that his horse was a better sentry than any human being—though if the mass attack did come, Fess was quite likely to have a seizure trying to defend Geoffrey.

  "A guardian?" Quicksilver eyed him with distrust again. "What manner of guardian can you call up on a moment's notice?"

  For answer, Geoffrey gazed off into space a moment while he sent a message in the family mode—a very strong message, to penetrate a haze of concentration; a very urgent message, to make the one who heard it come at once, or at least as soon as the work he was engrossed in was done...

  Air exploded in a gunshot crack, and a slender, pale youth stood there between them, hands holding not a sword but a book. He was fine-boned and wore a dark blue hooded robe over a royal blue tunic and light blue hose. He seemed entirely unprepossessing until you looked at his face, which was so handsome that it made Quicksilver gasp—but more because of its resemblance to Geoffrey than because of its own beauty.

  "No need to be so urgent, brother," he said. "I was only reading Einstein, not meditating on his equations."

  "Yet," Geoffrey qualified, with a broad smile that held as much of affection as of amusement.

  "Yet," the newcomer agreed.

  "What monk is this?" Quicksilver demanded.

  The teenager turned a clear, limpid gaze upon her that seemed to see and note everything about her, even to the depths of her soul, and Quicksilver fought to restrain a gasp of alarm, for even as he seemed to note every detail of her, he seemed to dismiss it as inconsequential, and to really only be paying attention to something far beyond her, something much more vast, of which she was only a part. She had never felt so small and insignificant in her life.

  But his smile was kind. "I am no monk, fair maiden, but only a poor scholar who delights in study and solitude."

  "A most excellent scholar, if he were to speak truly," Geoffrey contradicted, "but his false modesty will not let him. Chieftain Quicksilver, be acquainted with my brother, Gregory Gallowglass. Gregory, this is Quicksilver, chieftain of the bandits of County Laeg."

  Gregory showed not the slightest surprise at her profession or rank, but only bowed politely. "I am pleased to meet you, Chieftain."

  "And I you." I think, Quicksilver added silently.

  He noted that, as he seemed to note everything else about her, and his lips quirked with amusement. "No, you are not, nor is anyone else who meets me—though women even less than men." His brow furrowed. "I cannot understand why that may be."

  Quicksilver could have told him—told him of the feelings he aroused in her, of wariness and revulsion, wariness of a man who could be so completely cold, yet seem so innocent. But she was careful to leave the thought unworded, and kept it in her heart even as she raised mental shields to keep it in—though she found herself doubting that any mind-shield could hold against this man, if he did not wish it. Still, she withheld the thought, and was surprised to realize that it was not out of fear of him so much as from fear of hurting him, for he looked so young and vulnerable, and reminded her so of her own younger brother, of whom she still felt violently protective, even though he was much bigger and stronger than she was, now...

  She tried to shake off the spell, to pay attention to Geoffrey's words.

  "His name means 'sentry,' " Geoffrey was saying helpfully, "or rather, 'watchman.' "

  "What difference?" Quicksilver asked, very guarded. "Why," said Gregory, "it is the watchman who sat atop the ziggurats of ancient Mesopotamia, to study the stars, thereby to comprehend always a little more of the universe, and the God who made it, and thereby, perhaps, some notions of humanity's destiny and purpose—and, therefore, how they should live their lives."

  "In a word, 'philosopher,' " Geoffrey explained, "which, to Gregory, is the same as 'watchman.' Any official philosopher would disown him, though, for he seeks to know everything there is to know before he draws any conclusions about humanity or its purpose."

  "'Tis an impossible task," Quicksilver said, dismayed. "It is," Gregory agreed, "but it is nonetheless vital for that. Indeed, it is the highest praise that one can bestow upon the work, milady, for it ensures that there will always be a cause for striving, always a purpose in life, and never a moment's boredom."

  He was an alien creature indeed, and daunting. To defend herself, Quicksilver fastened on the one word he had said that really mattered. "I am not a lady!"

  But she wished she hadn't said it, for that keen glance seemed to penetrate right through her again. "Nay, you speak falsely," Gregory said, "for it is clear to any with eyes to see, that no matter what you were born, it is a lady that you have become—and that, through your own goodness and striving."

  Quicksilver could only stare at him, speechless. Geoffrey chuckled. "Argue with me if you will," he said, "but never argue with Gregory—for he will not argue, but only explain to you, quite reasonably and calmly, why you are wrong. Worse, he will go on to explain, in far more detail than you wish, what the truth is."

  Gregory turned, smiling gently at him. "Come, brother! You wrong me—and praise me overmuch in the same breath."

  "Do I so?" Geoffrey countered. "Like Gilbert and Sullivan's King Gama, Gregory, you always tell the truth, whether people want to hear it or not. Therefore do they hold you to be a most disagreeable man!"

  " 'And I can't think why,' " Geoffrey quoted, with a smile of amusement. "Ah, well, brother, there is an easy remedy for that." He turned back to Quicksilver. "If you do not wish to hear the answer, do not ask the question."

  "I did not," she said quickly. "Nor will I, either!"

  The youth's brow furrowed, and he turned to his brother. "Then why did you bring me here?"

  "To guard my slumbers," Geoffrey answered. " 'Bare is the back without brother behind it.' "

  Gregory stared at him, then gave his head a quick shake and stared again. "Do I hear aright? Geoffrey Gallowglass will spend the night with a beautiful woman, and wishes to be guarded?"

  Quicksilver smiled with grim satisfaction. "'Tis even so," Geoffrey said, chagrined.

  "'Tis not my charms from which he seeks protection," Quicksilver said, "but his own sword, in my hands."

  "Indeed!" Gregory swung back to her. "Then how do you come to be in his company?"

  "I am his prisoner," she said grimly. "The King feared to start a war by sending his own soldiers against me and my band, so he sent your brother alone."

  "Ah, now I remember hearing of the bandits of County Laeg!" Gregory nodded. "I had wondered why their chieftain had taken the name of an alchemist's element." He turned back to Geoffrey. "Dine, then, and sleep, and I shall guard."

  Quicksilver stared. Why hadn't he asked? Did he really know why she had taken the name of the silvery liquid? Even his brother had not heard the true reason! And if Gregory did know, how had he managed to guess it from no more evidence than seeing her?
>
  She decided it would be a good idea to sway Gregory to her side—and certainly it would do no harm to make Geoffrey jealous, perhaps even drive a wedge between the two brothers. Who knew? She might even be able to beguile Gregory so thoroughly that his vigilance lapsed. She knew her own worth as a warrior, after all, but she had known her own power as a woman far longer.

  So, during the dinner, she overcame her own revulsion and offered Gregory a bit of roasted partridge. "Come, sir, eat!" She held out a drumstick and fluttered her eyelashes.

  "Hm?" Gregory looked up with a start. "Oh. I thank you, maiden, but no. I am fasting this week." And he sank back into his reverie.

  "Surely you must partake of something!" She rose to kneel, leaning forward, drumstick held out on both hands as an offering, cleavage fully exposed, smiling her sweetest, head lowered a little so that she might look up through long lashes...

  Gregory lifted his head again, and his eyes met hers. She just barely suppressed a shudder; he was looking at her, but not at her—as much through her as though she had not been there. "Nay, thank you, maiden. Too much food would cloud my thoughts." And he was gone again. She stared, astounded. No man had ever dismissed her before, most especially at her most flirtatious. She turned away in a huff to plump down by the campfire again—and looked up to see Geoffrey watching her with amusement. She could have torn his eyes out for that.

  "If you can stir his interest from the airy realms of thought to the vital presence of womankind," Geoffrey said softly, "all my family will thank you."

  She turned away, face burning.

  When Geoffrey had buried the remains of the meal, she had calmed down enough to ask him, "Has he never shown any interest in women, then?"