“Lady,” he said, maintaining the formality she required of him. “Our friend Neysa is summoned to be bred by the Herd Stallion, and have her foal at last—yet she seems not pleased. Canst thou fathom this, and wilt thou enlighten us males?”
The Lady Blue went to Neysa and embraced her. No aloofness in this acquaintance! “Friend of mine oath, grant me leave to explain to my lord,” the Lady said to Neysa, and the unicorn-girl nodded.
The Lady faced Stile. “It be a private matter,” she said, and walked sedately from the court.
She hadn’t even asked; she had known intuitively! “I’ll be back,” Stile said, and quickly followed. When they were alone, they dropped the pretenses. “What’s the mystery?” Stile snapped. “She’s my best friend —a better friend than thou. Why won’t she tell me?”
“Thy magic is strong,” the Lady replied. “Thy comprehension weak. Left to thine own devices, thou wilt surely come to grief.”
“Agreed,” Stile said easily, though he was not pleased. “Fortunately I have Hulk and Neysa and thee to look after me. Soon will I eliminate the major threat to my tenure as Adept, and will stand no longer in need of such supervision.”
What irony there was rolled off her without visible effect. The fairness and softness of her appearance concealed the implacable skill with which she fought to pre-serve the works of her late husband. There was nothing soft about her dedication to his memory. “Be that as it may—the mare feels un-free to leave thee at this time. Hulk may depart and I am not committed to thee as Neysa is. Therefore she prefers to postpone breeding until thou’rt secure.”
“But this is senseless!” he protested. “She must not sacrifice her own welfare for mine! I can offer her only hard-ship and danger.”
“Aye,” the Lady agreed.
“Then thou must talk to her. Make her go to the Stallion.”
“Who is as masculinely logical as thee,” the Lady said. “With every bit as much comprehension of her concern. Nay, I shall not betray her thus.”
Stile grimaced. “Didst thou treat thy husband likewise?”
Now she colored. “Aye.”
Stile was immediately sorry. “Lady, I apologize. Well I know thou didst love him alone.”
“Not enough, it seems, to save his life. Perhaps had he had a unicorn to guard him—“ There it was, that needle-sharp acuity.
“I yield the point. There is no guardian like Neysa. What must I do to oblige her?”
“Thou must arrange postponement of the breeding, until she feels free to leave thee.”
Stile nodded. “That should be feasible. I thank thee, Lady, for thine insight.”
“What thou askest for, thou hast,” she said coolly. “Thou art now the Blue Adept, the leading magician of the realm. Only have the human wit not to offend the mare in the presentation of thy decision.”
“And how do I find the wit not to offend thee, bride of my defunct self? Thou knowest his tastes are mine.” She left him, not deigning to answer. Stile shrugged and returned to the courtyard. He wanted the Lady Blue more than anything he could imagine, and she was aware of this. But he had to win her the right way. He had the power to convert her by magic, but he would not use it; she knew this too. She understood him in certain ways better than he understood himself, for she had experienced the love of his other self. She could handle him, and she did so. Clip and Neysa had reverted to unicorn-form and were grazing on the patch of rich bluegrass maintained beside the fountain for that purpose. The two were a beautifully matched set, his blue against her black, his red socks complementing her white ones. Clip was a true unicorn in coloration; Neysa had been excluded from the herd for some years because her color resembled that of a horse. Stile still got angry when he thought about that. Neysa looked up as he approached, black ears perking forward, a stem of grass dangling from her mouth. As with most equines, her chewing stopped when her attention was distracted.
“I regret the necessity,” Stile said briskly. “But I must after all interfere with Neysa’s opportunity. The Blue Adept has, as we know, an anonymous enemy, probably another Adept, who has murdered him once and seeks to do so again. I have no second life to spare. Until I deal with this enemy, I do not feel secure without completely competent protection and guidance. No one can do that as well as the mare. Therefore I must seek a postponement of the Stallion’s imperative until this crisis abates. I realize this works a hardship on Neysa, and is selfish of me—“ Neysa snorted musically, pleased, and not for a moment deceived. She resumed chewing her mouthful. Clip angled his horn at her in askance, but saw that she was satisfied, so kept silent.
