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

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
He smiled—I lend you my strength, it said—and lay back on the bed. She slid down in his arms. What
frightened her most, because it was what Sarngeld had most often forced from her, what she could do
only very rarely for Shyll, she would do.Then in fear I'll jump and nick him. I might not even know
when I'm doing it. All I need to do is stop being so careful.
Man-fear swelled, stifling; she choked it down, fought not to gag. His scent was a vegetarian's, sweet on
other parts of him, buthere… All men are the same . His only touch was three fingertips air-light on her
shoulder.
"Megan, are you sure?" He slid upwards, drawing away.
"This is the hardest. Don't make it harder!" She clasped his hips and laid her cheek against his belly for a
moment, clinging, eyes closed, some part of her like a baby taking comfort from his warmth.
"Megan. You need what will make you feel safe. Here." He took her right hand up, laid it across his own
throat, claws spread. Under her fingertips she felt his pulse-beat, quick and steady. "If I do what you
don't want, if I becomehim somehow, give me just a clench, the first time, a warning. If I do the same
thingagain — kill me."
She tore her hand away, raised her head to stare. A moment of panic:Would I do that? Yes, I would.
In shock . His eyes were serious.I trust you , they said.And myself . "It's only my own hands my fate
would be in," he said. "I'd have none but myself to blame."
What she should say came easily enough. "Kill you, and fight my way out through your army, leaving
what's left of my family to the mercy of those who loved you?" She heard her voice, dry, cynical. "Do
you think I'm an idiot?"
He slid out from her arms, picked a sheet of paper and an Arkan pen out of the cupboard. Crouching in
the circle of lamplight, he wrote three lines in his quick firm hand, Yeoli and Enchian, signed, sealed it
with a daub of seal-wax and thesemanakraseye's signet, and handed it to her.
I, Fourth Chevenga Shae-Arano-e, semanakraseye na chakrachaseye,absolve Megan Whitlock of
my own death this seventh night in the moon of the Corn. There was reason; she knows.
The words, as she read them, four times, seemed to shift and swim; the dark air had currents, like water,
that moved her, became hard to breathe, the cart-floor rippling.No. Shake it off, but without motion.
You should feel just amazement .
His eyes gazed at her, black reflecting two tiny dark flames, one gold tooth reflecting a brighter one.
"They'd truth-drug you, you'd tell the truth, and they'd know it as the sort of thing I'd do. If they even
caught you." He shrugged, naked shoulders lifting. "Who would say anything to Megan Whitlock strolling
by night, with her adopted daughter?"
Don't show him the world's spinning. She kept the impassive merchant's face, with a mask of lesser
surprise.I know what I'd say now . "How can you trust me so? I was truth-drugged three months ago,
you don't know I haven't been compromised since then, somehow."Subtle, witch .
He lay back on the bedding, tucking his hands behind his head, shrugged again, smiling. "I know who to
trust."
You idiot. You fish-gutted over-reckless, Gold-bottomed idiot.