The Dinosaur Knights by Victor Milan Page B

knight’s back and cut the ropes. Despite temptation— self-denial is good for the soul, lad —he made himself work carefully so as not to cut the captive.
    â€œGo now,” he said, as Laurent shook his hands free, “and sin no more.”
    For a moment the knight stood frowning thoughtfully and rubbing his red wrists. Then he looked Karyl in the eye.
    â€œYou’ve won them for now,” he said. “But they’ll turn on you for sure.”
    â€œI know,” Karyl said calmly.
    Mor Laurent blinked at him. Then he laughed. With his laughter echoing from the painted rafters, he walked down the aisle toward the door and out.
    The crowd watched him go. While they were distracted Longeau lunged with startling speed. He yanked Sister Violette up from her chair behind the table and against his chest. A short broad dagger appeared from somewhere, dimpling the white skin beneath her jaw.
    *   *   *
    They found a little ancient cinder cone with its crater fallen-in in the middle. Some hole must have still led underground because there was no more than a boggy patch at the bottom of the depression. Its walls rose comfortably higher even than the horses’ heads.
    Which were kept low to the ground anyway. The cone was well overgrown, sides brushy, top crowned with saplings. The interior was upholstered with green grass and fragrant, soft-leaved scrub.
    Happily a stream ran not fifty meters from the cone. Pilar stood watch while Melodía stripped, bathed, and washed her clothes. Then Melodía guarded while her servant did the same. Naked and refreshed, the two long women led their mounts, the wet laundry draped over their backs, up the short slope and back down to their chosen campsite.
    Pilar got fresh silk loincloths from their luggage. As Melodía put hers on, Pilar carefully arranged their garments on a thorn-free bush to dry. Then as the rough circle of sky above them shaded from indigo to near-black, and stars began to peek with increasing boldness through tears in the clouds, she laid a small fire.
    â€œThere,” Pilar said, standing up. “The crater’ll hide the fire from passersby. And on the off-chance anyone sees the smoke they’re likely to think the cone’s waking up again, and run away as fast as their legs can carry them.”
    Melodía had draped her saddle-pad over a conveniently sized lava rock near the fire and sat gratefully on it. She laughed. “You think of everything, don’t you?”
    Pilar reacted as if Melodía had showered her with curses. The easy, brisk, competent assurance with which Pilar had managed everything suddenly fled. Her face sagged, aging what seemed like fifty years in the orange underlighting. Her shoulders sagged. She drew the dagger from her belt. Kneeling before Melodía, she held the knife toward her mistress hilt-first.
    â€œWhat on Paradise are you doing?” Melodía demanded in genuine consternation.
    â€œI dishonored you, mistress,” Pilar said. “I abused you and struck you. I’m willing to pay the price for my unforgivable acts.”
    â€œOh, don’t be an idiot, Pilar. Stand up and put that silly knife away.”
    Pilar looked up at her. Despite her look of despair, for the first time in what seemed like years Melodía had realized just how beautiful her servant was.
    It probably has been years, Melodía thought. She sighed. Taking the other woman by her outstretched arms she gently but decisively pulled her to her feet.
    â€œListen,” she said. “I know I was acting like an idiot back there. I was being weak and self-indulgent. I’d say childish, but that makes me think of my baby sister, Montse, and that hardly seems just. Beneath those dreadlocks and those round cheeks she seems about as soft as a mace-tail’s backside. I can’t see her breaking down like that.”
    Just to help her feel worse a wave of homesickness washed over her