A Little Hospitality

plenty of room."

  She examined it and decided he was right, if she lay lengthwise. Still: "Are you sure?"

  "Of course. If you're worried about propriety, while I would love to ravish you, as my guest I am bound by the demands of hospitality to protect you and treat you well." He glanced up at her with a grinning leer, and winked.

  She realized he was being facetious again. "Hmph. Well, if you do, and I ever find out about it, I'll hurt you good, little man."

  He laughed. "My word, such wit! As Speedy Gonzales might say, 'I like you, you're silly.'"

  She removed her coat and hung it over the closest upright support of the lean-to. "That isn't as obscure a reference as you might believe."

  "You've heard it before?"

  She unbuckled the harness over her sleeveless doublet. "From a friend in the Waking World." It was one of Sunny's favorite lines.

  "Ah, so, you're a Dreamer--good heavens, woman!"

  She glanced at him and saw him staring at the six pistols hanging in the harness. She had two more in belt holsters, along with a rondel dagger and a few pouches.

  "Expecting bear?"

  She flashed a lopsided grin. "I get it. In a manner of speaking. I'm a pistol marksman in the Waking World. I feel more comfortable with a gun in my hand than a blade, and even if these are not what I'm used to, they're still better than nothing. Having eight of them just makes it possible to get off multiple shots before having to reload."

  Then the shilling dropped. "You don't seem too surprised to see them."

  He shrugged. "I've seen matchlock guns before, but nothing like those. Are they flintlocks?"

  She slipped off the harness and laid it over the coat. She understood his confusion. Nothing more recent than 1500 could exist in the Dreamlands. "No, they use a mechanism called a wheellock. It was developed just before the 16th century. A spring-driven wheel turns against a piece of pyrite to create sparks." She unbuckled the belt and hung it off the harness.

  "Are they common?"

  She removed her red, wide-brimmed hat and laid it on top of the coat. "No; I believe my collection is the only one so far, but these were made by a weaponsmith in Ulthar, and he offers others for general sale. So you may see more of them as time goes on." She untied her pink ascot from around the doublet's high collar and draped it over the hat.

  "Ulthar, you say. They could make my life a bit easier; safer, too."

  She untied the lacings on her doublet and draped it over her pack. Underneath she wore a chemise tucked inside a pair of tight-fitting trousers. "It takes a goodly amount of practice to be a passable shot, and they require a great deal of care and maintenance to keep in working order, but for all that, they're still easier to master than a knife or a bow."

  "Might be difficult finding a teacher."

  She knelt and unbuckled the straps on her boots. "The smith in Ulthar can show you all you need to know. After that, it's just a matter of practice making perfect." Standing, she leaned with one hand against the cave wall and pulled them off, dropping them beside the pack.

  He didn't say anything more, and the tapping of flint on steel resumed.

  She walked over and knelt down to watch. Eile and Sunny had shown her how to start a fire that way, but she had had little opportunity to practice. After about a minute, she saw a wisp of smoke rise from the tinder. He bent over and blew into the pyramid of wood, and in seconds the tinder blazed up. He quickly added fresh material, then larger pieces of kindling, and in no time the center blazed strongly. He then stood and went over to the other side of the lean-to.

  "Is there anything I can do?" She watched as he rummaged around inside his own pack.

  He shook his head. "You're my guest. Aside from seeing to your own needs, nothing."

  "I'm a fairly good cook."

  He pulled out food packs. "I'm not too bad myself."

  "I meant no offense."

  He straightened up and came back to the fire, carrying half a dozen parcels. He had that wry grin on his face again. "None taken. Feel free to kibitz."

  "I just think I should pull my own weight."

  He passed the packages to her and she laid them beside the cooking gear. Then he knelt beside the growing fire. "Would you consider traveling with me? I could use the company."

  He looked and sounded rather earnest, almost like a child frightened of the dark. It made her wonder if, for all his confidence and high spirits, he wasn't in some measure intimidated by the huge world around him.

  She smiled and extended her hand. "As would I. I would be honoured."

  He beamed at her with what seemed like ecstatic relief, and took her hand in both of his. "Then that would be good enough."

  He flashed that wry grin and winked as he recovered his composure. "Besides, it never hurts to have a big person by your side, does it? Especially one as alluring as you."

  She chuckled. "You are outrageous, you know that?"

  "It has been said of me," he replied in a mischievous tone as he unwrapped one of the packs.

  After a few minutes of silence he said, "Speaking of audacity, it will be some time before supper is ready. Why don't you go for a swim?"

  She glanced at the pool; it did look inviting.

  As if reading her mind, he continued. "The water is deliciously cool and refreshing, and you'll be more comfortable sleeping if you have a chance to wash off." He then sported another mischievous leer. "Besides, I'd like to get a peek of my own."

  She favored him with a half grin. "You're not helping."

  "Well, then, what if I promised to keep my back turned, until you're in the water. Will that do?"

  "Your word of honour?"

  "Certainly." He winked at her.

  "Hmph. I don't have a towel."

  "I have a spare you can borrow. Go ahead and get started, and I'll dig it out once the food's on."

  Oh, why the hell not? Even if he did peek, it wasn't like she would be parading around for his enjoyment.

  She spared him a smirking half-smile as she raised an eyebrow. "Very well. But just remember what I told you earlier."

  "Don't worry, I'll be the perfect gentleman. Well, maybe not so perfect."

  She shook her head and chuckled as she stood up. She walked back to her pack and undid the ties on her trousers, slipped them off, and laid them over the doublet. The chemise fell to mid-thigh, providing adequate coverage of her hips and associated regions.

  She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he had moved to the opposite side of the fire with his back to her, as he said he would. Smiling, she reached under the chemise and pulled off her braies. The Dreamlands had no gender-specific undergarments; everyone made do with the same basic garment, except she had hers made from cotton instead of linen. She dropped them on the trousers, but hesitated, and as an afterthought hid them under the pants. Finally, she removed her glasses and placed them with the rest of her clothes. In the Waking World she was badly myopic; in the Dreamlands her eyesight was perfect, but they had become such a part of her appearance she continued to wear a pair with plain-glass lenses out of habit.

  She headed for the pool, keeping an eye on him, but he never once glanced up at her. Satisfied, she pulled the chemise over her head and dropped it to the ground. Stepping up to the edge, she saw the basin of the pool dropped off immediately, so she dived in rather than waded.

  She spent considerable time splashing around. She loved to swim, but in the Waking World, aside from a swimming machine in her manor house and the rare afternoon at the lake on her estate, she had few chances to indulge herself. The Dreamlands were only half better. Her mansion in Celephais didn't have a pool, just a spa, but Eile and Sunny had one, and Victor's palace in Elissa had been built into the side of a cliff with a private beach. They went swimming just about every day. Besides, the last time she took a thorough bath had been back in Celephais the day before she left. Michael had offered her the first real chance to get clean again, other than the occasional bucket of tepid water and scrub br
ush offered during her travels.

  The pool turned out to be more spacious than she expected, which surprised her. She estimated it to be about ten yards in diameter and four fathoms deep at it center. That gave her considerable room to do laps and swim around underwater. At one point she broke the surface coming up from a rather deep dive and spotted him standing by the edge, straining as if to catch a glimpse of her.

  She paused, treading water. "Enjoying the show?" She noticed he had taken the opportunity to change into a tunic.

  He flinched, like a naughty schoolboy caught in the act. "Could be better." Then he held up a square of folded gray cloth. "I brought your towel." And he laid it on top of her chemise.

  "Supper should be ready in a half hour," he added before he went back to the fire. She grinned and, feeling mischievous, flipped over in a backwards dive.

  He was right, the water was cool, in fact invigorating. She figured the stream that fed it was derived from snowmelt. It felt even better than swimming in the sea around Elissa. The Mark lay close to the same latitude as Jamaica in the Waking World. While clean and clear, the water could get rather warm, and she felt the need to rinse off afterward to cool down and get the salt out of her hair. In contrast, Ooth-Nargai lay roughly where France would be, making it more temperate, and the pool contained fresh water.

  She enjoyed herself so much she lost track of time, and he surprised her when she broke the surface somewhat later and saw him waving at her. She realized the food must be ready. She waved back, and after he turned around she swam for the edge