It was an odd pair who sat together at the picnic table: two women, one gaunt and stark in black, with pale skin and brilliant green eyes, the other more athletically built, her black hair hanging long and loose, her eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. They sat across from each other, both poised and tense as if to leap. Miramar Castle -- a brooding and strange building -- loomed a scant fifty feet behind them, surreal backdrop for a strange meeting.
"Well," said the taller of the two. "I must confess -- I am surprised to see you back here so soon." Pause, then: "You didn't lose him *again*, did you?"
A muscle jumped in the other's jaw. "Hardly." Her voice was almost too low to hear, and almost a growl.
Smirk. "And I am sure you are not here to thank me for my earlier generosity."
"You Geased him."
Fine black eyebrows rose on a pale forehead. "By my Lady, is *that* what this is about? It's a *little* Geas. He should hardly notice."
"He noticed." Hands found each other on the table, knotted together, and squeezed. Muscles and sinews slid beneath flesh. Power in those hands. Threat.
Green eyes watched, noted, measured. "Ah." Silence dragged until it became painful, then: "I suppose you think you can bargain it away from me, eh?"
The dark head came up. "As you say, it is a *little* Geas."
"Yours won't be."
"No?" The other leaned back, let her hands relax. "You can't read my Needs."
Chuckle. "As if I need my resonance to see what you want."
"It's the 'how much' that matters." Almost a smile, with the faintest gleam of teeth.
Green eyes slitted. "Yes, it is. Someone has done her homework, hasn't she? -- How much do you think it was worth to let you have him back?"
"We did *you* a favor then, too." Careless gesture, a hand tossed to indicate everything round them. "You still *have* this place. War didn't smash you."
"Indeed." She studied the other, weighing possibilities. "You're a brave one, if a bit stupid. Did he ask you to do this? Of course he didn't. That one does not *ask*." Another quiet, dark chuckle. "That was how I caught him, you know. I *volunteered* a favor, and it got him an itty bitty Geas."
That struck; the other sat up straight, very, very still. "Bargain or not, Seneschal?" The growl was identifiable now.
Best not to push too hard. Cherubim could be *so* touchy about some things. "We can bargain. Relax, angel."
"Release him."
Slow smile now, cold as a ghost's kiss. "I have him for an hour, sweet. What will you give me?"
"A day." Quick, firm, no hesitation.
"A day." Too eager, this one -- not accustomed to dealing. Still -- too hard a push, and the angel might leave, and she surely would not remove those glasses and give up a glimpse into what it was *really* worth to her. A year, belike. A foolish thing, to love another to one's own ruin. "A mere *day* ." She did not feign affront. "He's Malakim. That's worth more than a *day.* "
Silence, from the other. Mirrored lenses reflected her own image back at her, austere and cold and dark.
Damn. "A day, then, for the release of his *hour* -- and he will not thank you for it. Proud creature, that one." No matter. There were others who would pay so much more for just information . . . .
The mouth twitched -- bitter expression. "Oh, I can gauge how well he'll thank me. A day for his hour, then."
"Done." She made a gesture, purely for show, and watched the other's face go very, very still. "Feel it?"
Expression hardened to smooth granite. "Thank you," she said very gravely, and turned away. The Symphony rippled, and for an instant, and brilliant red and gold dragon hung suspended, a single Geas-band round one limb. Then it vanished.
MIllicent smiled, stood, turned to the Tether. A man -- taller than even she, harsh-featured, with wintry blue eyes -- met her halfway. She tossed him a mocking smile. "One of yours?" Of course she knew.
"She was." His voice rasped, as if it had broken once and never healed.
She met his eyes, read what she saw there, smiled. "I see...perhaps we should go back inside and talk for awhile. Maybe we can make a deal."
He fell into step beside her, lean shadow. "Maybe," said Irad, "we can."