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of steady certitude。 The sheath seemed to fall free of itself； the Sword was drawn。
Denis straightened up； intending to present this Sword as well to the goddess。 But when his eyes fell on her he was shocked to see that she was changed。
Or was the change in him … and not in her？
Aphrodite let fall her arm that had been extended to receive the second Sword。 She stepped back； her other hand still holding the sheathed Sword of Mercy。
Again Denis pondered： What does she really look like？ But still the moonlight （he thought it was the moonlight） made it quite impossible to tell。
Certainly more lovely than any mortal woman could ever be。 Yet now； since he had drawn the second Sword； he thought she was in some way inferior to even the least of human mortals。 In some way she was … unreal。
He realized that he did not want her now。
Power was still flowing from the Sword…hilt into his hand。 In sudden curiosity he looked at what his fingers gripped。 He saw in moonlight； without understanding； the simple hollow white circle that marked the black。
Wonder of wonders； the goddess appeared to be fighting some inner struggle with herself。
〃Give me。。。〃she began to say； in a voice that still fought to be manding。 But after those first two words her voice faltered and her speech broke off。
She sagged back from the railing of her barge （Denis was shocked to see how graceless the movement was）； and stopped half…kneeling on her silken pillows once more。 The cloud of her moonlit hair concealed her face。
〃No；〃 she contradicted herself； speaking now in yet another voice； much softer。 〃No； do not give it to me now。 I am a goddess； and I could take it from you。 But I will not。〃
Denis's arm that held the Sword of Justice faltered； and the blade sank down slowly at his side。 It hung in his hand like a dead weight； though still its power flowed。 He felt an overwhelming pity for the goddess； mixed with a slight disgust。
〃Do not give it to me；〃 repeated Aphrodite； in her soft and newly thoughtful voice。 〃That would cause harm to you。〃 After a pause she went on； marveling to herself。 〃So； this is love。 I have always wondered； and never known what it was like。 I see it can be terrible。〃
She raised her head until her wide…spaced eyes were visible under the cloud of moonlit hair。 〃I see。。。 that your name is Denis； my beloved。 And you have known a score of women before now； and dreamed of a thousand more。 Yet you have never really known any of them。 Nor will you； can you； ever really know a goddess； I suppose。〃 And Aphrodite gave a sigh； her bosom heaving。
Denis could only stand there unfortably。 He felt more pity for this lovely woman than he could bear； and he wished that she would go away。 At the same time he wanted to let go of the Sword in his right hand； he wanted to throw it in the river。 It seemed to him that his life had been much more intense and glorious just a few moments ago； before he had drawn Doomgiver。 But the Sword would not let him throw it away just now； any more than it would allow the goddess to take it from him。
〃I love you； Denis；〃 the goddess Aphrodite said。
He made an incoherent noise of embarrassment； low down in his throat。 As speech； he thought； it was inadequate； clumsy； mundane； and mean； like everything else he did。 He did not love her； or even want her。 He could not； and he wished that she would leave。
She said to him softly； 〃And the blade that you hold there； my love； is truly called Doomgiver； for I see now that it truly giveth me my doom。〃
〃No！〃 Denis protested； feeling so sorry for her already； not knowing just what it was he feared。
〃Ah yes。 I； who have for ages amused myself with the love of men； must now feel what they have felt。 And； as I love you now； I cannot take Doomgiver from you。 To rob you of the Sword of Justice now； my little mortal darling； would do you much harm。 As a goddess I can foresee that。 But Woundhealer … it will be better if I take that with me now。〃
Denis wanted to tell her that he was sorry。 The words stuck in his throat。
〃How sweet it would be if you could tell me that you loved me too。 But do not lie。〃 And here the goddess extended her arm that still held the Sword of Love； across the narrow strip of water that still separated her from the island； and with the sheathed tip of Woundhealer touched Denis over his heart。 〃I could。。。 but I will not。 My full embrace would not be good for you … not now； not yet。 Someday； perhaps。 I love you； Denis； and for your sake I must now say farewell。〃
And the goddess leaned forward suddenly； and kissed him on the cheek。
〃No。。。 no。〃 He stumbled forward； into mud。 Was it only pity that he felt now？
But the marvelous barge was already shimmering away into the moonlight。
Chapter 7
The two riding beasts must have been well rested when Mark seized them； for they bore their riders willingly and swiftly on the first long stage of the flight from Vilkata's encampment。 The young woman stayed in her saddle firmly； like an experienced rider； but instinctively； passively； and with no apparent understanding of what was happening to her now。 Her blue…green eyes stared steadily out at horror； some horror that was no longer visible to Mark。 Her body was thin； almost emaciated。 Her face was pale under its mask of grime； her hair； colorless with filth； hung long and matted over the captured cloak that she clutched about her with one hand。 Since Mark had pulled her from the cage she had not spoken a single word。
The two of them rode for a long time； side by side； over roadless and gradually rising ground； before Mark stopped the animals for a rest。 He had at last been able to convince himself that there was no pursuit。 Phantom echoes of Vilkata's demonic celebration had persisted in his exhausted mind and senses long after the real sounds had faded。
He was living now with ceaseless pain； and with the taste and sight and smell of his own blood； for the oozing from his forehead wound would not diminish。 And Mark could not shake the feeling that there was something wrong now with his own blood； with the way it smelled and tasted； as if the Mindsword had left a shard of poisoned sunlight embedded in his brain。
Mark dismounted the first time he stopped the animals。 He spoke gently to the young woman； but she only continued to sit her mount in silence； staring straight ahead； not responding to him at all。 He decided not to press the matter of munication； as long as she remained docile。 The all…important thing was to get farther from Vilkata。
Presently they were under way again。 Now their course； aimed directly away from Vilkata's camp； took them into a range of low hills。 Now the encampment； which had still been intermittently visible in the distance； dropped permanently from sight。 Here in the hills the land still showed devastation wrought by the Dark King's foragers。 Soon the fugitives came to a stream； and a thicket that offered shelter of a kind。 Mark stopped again。
This time he employed gentle force to pry the young woman's hands from the reins； and to get her down from the saddle。 Still half…supported by Mark's arm； she stood beside the animal waiting for whatever might happen to her next。 Her lips were cracked； hideously dry。 Mark had to lead her to the stream； and get her to kneel beside it。 Still she did not appear to realize what was in front of her。 Only after he had given her the first drink from his own cupped hands did she rouse from her trance enough to bend to the water for herself。
〃I can stand；〃 she announced suddenly； in a disused croak of a voice。 And stand she did； unaided； a little taller than before。 A moment later； her eyes for the first time fastened on Mark with full attention。
In the next instant he was startled to see joyous recognition surge up in her face。 In a much clearer voice； she murmured； 〃Rostov。。。 how did you ever manage。。？〃
The instant after that； she fell unconscious in Mark's arms。
He caught her as well as he could； and stretched her out on the grass。 Then he sat down； and； holding his own head； tried to think through his pain。 Rostov was a Tasavaltan name； borne by the famed general； and； Mark supposed； by many others as well。 He was still wearing Sightblinder； and the young woman had seen him as someone she knew and trusted。
Mark lay down and tried to rest； but his wound made that practically impossible。 Presently he decided that they might as well go on； if he could get his panion back into the saddle。 She roused herself when he tugged at her； and with his help she got mounted again。 Though she appeared now to be asleep； with closed eyes； she sat steadily astride the riding beast； wrapped in the cloak of gold and black。 That hateful cloak might be a help； thought Mark； if any of the enemy should see her from a distance。 He himself was still protected by Sightblinder； but his panion would not be。
Still his wound throbbed mercilessly。 He was sure now that the Mindsword must have had some poisonous effect； but unless he could find help somewhere there was nothing he could do about it。 He rode on； side by side with his panion； Mark now and then rousing himself enough to realize that neither of them was more than half conscious。 Grimly he concentrated …