Fifth Quarter by Tanya Huff

don't like to be wrong."
     
    "Say something, Vree."
     
    "Say what? He doesn't seem to need any encouragement from me."
     
    The man who had been Governor Aralt walked over to the pile of weapons and prodded it gently, then he turned to face her again. "Vree. A diminutive of Vireyda. But no one calls you that, do they? Tell me, Vree, after this morning's little adventure, are you still sane?"
     
    "Yes." The question surprised an answer out of her.
     
    "Is he?"
     
    "I'll soon show you how sane I am, you thieving son of a diseased pig!"
     
    "I know you're still holding him. I felt you drag him back from the brink of oblivion."
     
    "He's sane." Vree spit the words from between tight lips.
     
    "This is fascinating." Bannon's body folded itself gracefully into a cross-legged position on the end of the bed. "Absolutely fascinating."
     
    "He'll find it fascinating all right, with a dagger shoved up between his ribs!"
     
    "Try to remember that they're your ribs." She clamped her will down on her left arm, stopping its futile struggle against the russet scarf that bound her to the wooden arm of the chair. "And stop doing that."
     
    "You're talking to him, aren't you?" Bannon/Aralt leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees. "Your eyes develop an inward cast and…"
     
    "Can I ask you something?" Vree broke in before he could begin another monologue.
     
    He spread his hands. "Ask."
     
    "Why haven't you killed me? Us."
     
    "A good question. You intrigue me. And there isn't a lot capable of that anymore." He grinned, and the familiar expression plunged her into confusion. "My turn. Did you have any idea of the risks you took, or did you act in total ignorance of the danger?"
     
    "What danger?"
     
    "Insanity. Loss of self. Death. When you allowed him to jump into your mind—and I assume you allowed it, he didn't just force himself in?" He read the answer off her face. "Yes, well, when you allowed him in, you should have been pushed out. Destroyed. Your life sacrificed for his."
     
    "I trusted him."
     
    "Very commendable," His voice picked up a sardonic edge. "I trusted someone once. But what made you think that you could hold two lives in one frail shell? No, wait." He raised his hand as a thought occurred to him. "You didn't think, did you? It was the only thing to do, so you did it. Blind faith succeeds where reason would have failed. That's so touching it makes me ill."
     
    Vree leaned back in the chair, subtly testing the knots that held her. "So now what?"
     
    "Another good question." Aralt/Bannon stared down at his foot as though fascinated by the strength and flexibility of his toes. "You could still go insane."
     
    "I don't think so."
     
    "How would you know?"
     
    "I'd know." She ground the words out through clenched teeth, and he smiled.
     
    "Yes, I believe you would." He leaned forward suddenly, and for the first time, his eyes met hers. "If I let you live, you'll continue trying to push me out of your brother's body, won't you?"
     
    "Yes!"
     
    "Bannon, no!"
     
    But he wasn't listening. She felt him throw himself forward over the fragile bridge of her gaze, felt him slam into an impenetrable barrier, once again had to grab him and drag him back.
     
    This time, at least, she remained conscious. When her vision cleared, Bannon/Aralt was standing over her. "You can't," he said simply. "I've done this too often. I'm far too strong."
     
    Her head felt like it was being ground between two large rocks. "Then you'll have to kill me. Us." At the moment, death didn't look so bad.
     
    "No. I have a better idea. I have something you want. Something you need." He spread his hands. "This body. Which, I might add, is a fine physical specimen—young, strong, handsome. I'm sure we can come to some sort of an agreement."
     
    Vree glared at him. "And what do I have that you want?"
     
    "Skill. Training. Experience. How old are you? Your brother is twenty, so you'd be twenty-two? Twenty-three?" He sighed and