A little way further on. I saw the General on his great black bird and speaking with Iren. As I stumbled up to them, Iren turned away and passed me, giving me a fully significant glance of hot malicious triumph. I could hardly have been luckier. As I stumbled blindly towards him, I saw that he was even unaccompanied.

I tottered, and felt his stirruped foot come out to steady me. I had hoped for his hand, but that would come later anyway.

I swayed against him, hoping the bird wouldn’t kick, but it was too well-trained for that. For a moment of panic I thought he wouldn’t speak, but then his voice said, “Are you all right?”

I immediately moaned. “Poor Cija,” he observed, “you are ill.” And at last he stretched down an arm and mounted me before him. I shuddered against him, burying my head on his shoulder. He put a hand on mine to soothe me. I had not quite bargained for that hand. It had seemed all right in theory, but its reality was heavy and deliberate and far from soothing. He has very masculine hands.

“My lord,” I murmured, “you cannot carry me thus to your companions.”

“For the time being I’ll have none but you,” he answered. “And you needn’t trouble, the tangle of these damned plants is too thick here for even the nearest tents to see us. Drink this.” He put the familiar leather bottle to my lips and I schooled myself to drink without flinching. It was an old bottle, very stained and repulsive, which hung from his studded belt. “I hope never again to have such troublesome hostages. The forest big noise won’t return till dusk for my answer, and I could not bear the flutterings and arguments of my commanders, but even here I find I cannot be undisturbed. Better?”

I realized he meant me and nodded.

“But I’m still trembling.” I was, too. I wondered if I should invite him to touch my knees and feel how they trembled, then decided it might be unwise. But it seemed an awful waste of good genuine authentic trembling.

“Your thin friend told me some quite fascinating rigmarole, from what I could gather of it. But you don’t seem as happy as she pictured you to me.”

“I’m not!” I jerked my head from his shoulder and sat up. His eyes went down to my bitten neck, my badly torn bodice and my scratched arms holding it together. Unfortunately none of the scratches were bleeding, though some had begun to sting.