Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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my mouth runs away with me at times like that."
He waved it off. "Can't remember a thing. Well… except something about something… gold." Megan
chuckled. "I hope I didn't say anything inappropriate."
"No, not at all. So tell me, O Infallible: what did your command council have to say about what
transpired last night?"
There was something wonderfully satisfying in seeing someone who had all those use-names look so
sheepish. "To be honest," he said, "I've kept them too busy this morning, and Kaninjer's kept them too
far away ever since to say anything. I'm not nursing any hope that they'll forget, though." He shrugged, the
typical Yeoli double-shrug, the shoulders and then the good arm. "What can I say? They'll tell me, 'You
should be more careful.' I will say, 'Yes, I admit it. I will.' Some will leap on that and say, 'You young
idiot, why didn't you listen to us sooner?' in the hope that will make me listen to them more next time.
Others will keep an awkward silence, tryingnot to make me feel like an idiot. Others will worry that it'll
shake my confidence, while still others will worry that I'll go haring off on some even more dangerous
stunt just to prove my Infallibility. And I'll just keep going the same way I have all along, except I'll check
for traps."
Megan raised one brow, drawing the leather card case out other belt. "I'm glad I'm not in a position
where I'd have to try to out-stubborn you." He laughed. "Let me show you something."
Megan unlaced the card case. She made no claims to be a seer—most such tended to cringe at the
thought of handing their cards around—but carried them just to practice. She shuffled through the twelfth
card, pulled it out and laid it in his hand.
"The Hanged One. A very powerful card. And very symbolic." In some witches' decks, the figure was
shown hanged by his neck, as if being executed; with most, though, including Megan's, he was pictured
hanging upside down by one ankle, from a tree-branch.
Chevenga burst out laughing. "What doesthat augur? Danger? A wound? Salvation by magic? A
scolding command council?"
She grinned, and let her voice take on the cadence of the fortune-teller. "Fulfillment, moral or physical
sacrifice, the period of respite between significant events. The approach of new life forces. A period of
indecision. Change, if willing sacrifice is made."
"Well," he said; laughing, "I wasn't willing to step in the snare, if I'd had the choice. Here's the period of
respite, whether I like it or not. I don't know where the indecision was…"
My face is stone, Megan intoned to herself.Don't let him see where the indecision was .
"Change," he went on, "that remains to be seen, I guess. Or maybe the meaning's different if instead of
turning up the Hanged One, youare the Hanged One." He handed the card back, and she tucked it
away. "Well, thank you again. I owe you."
Megan forced a natural smile. "Shit, Chevenga, you don't owe me. Like I said, it could have been the
other way around, andyou would have had to saveme." He would have , she thought. "These things all
come out even." Yes, a voice seemed to say in her mind.They do . "Nobody owes me anything."
He reached to kiss her hand again; she had to let him. This time there was something small and hard in