breath and said, "I am appalled that I should have need. You yourself, brother—have you no heart, no conscience that may tell you what mine do?''
"Aye, I have," he returned, "but if reason contradicts the impulse of conscience, I must choose the course of reason. Even now Conscience tells me not to strike a woman in cold blood, but Reason shows me that she merits death and, moreover, will find a way to strike at us again if I let her live."
"But you cannot know that!" Cordelia cried. "She might become sincerely penitent, might truly become your loyal friend!"
Gregory frowned at his big sister. "Do you truly think she does not merit death?"
Then he saw in her eyes that it was not what the woman deserved that concerned Cordelia, but her sudden fear of what her little brother had become. Gregory gazed at her, sadness weighing down his heart. "I am nothing more than I ever have been, sister," he said softly. "It is only this occasion that has made you see it."
The trembling took her again. "The Gregory I have known would always seek the course of mercy! Why death, Gregory? Why not some lesser punishment?" Then a happy thought struck her, and her hand tightened on his arm. "Would it not suffice for her to dwell forever in a prison from which she could not escape?"
"Aye, it would." Gregory gave her a sad smile. "But this is a woman of commanding presence, Cordelia, or she would never have risen to authority among her own band. Come, you know how intelligent and resourceful she is, and how unscrupulous. Do you truly think there is a jailer whom she could not bend to her will or a prison from which she could not escape?"
Cordelia stared at the ground, fists clenched, thinking fran-
tically. Surely the woman was a snake and a backstabber, surely she deserved to suffer, but death? Surely not, surely it would be evil to deprive her of life, especially when she was so young, had so much of life left, so many joys to come....
Inspiration struck, and she smiled at her brother in triumph.
'Aye, she could escape from any prison—save one in which she wished to stay."
Gregory stared. Then he frowned and said slowly, "She deserves to suffer for what she has done—but aye, I would be content if you could invent a prison that gave her so much joy that she wished to dwell there forever. How could you craft such a thing?"
"I cannot build a prison, but I can craft witch-moss," Cordelia said. "Let us find a huge mass of that fungus and fashion from it Moraga's ideal man."
Gregory frowned, searching her face, not understanding. Then comprehension dawned and his eyes widened. "Of course! If we search her mind to discover all she wants in a man, then make a construct that embodies those qualities, even all its contradictions and paradoxes, she might become so besotted with him that she would be content to stay with him all her days!"
"Even so," Cordelia said, beaming. "Of course, we would plant it in his mind to take her away to some hidden valley where they might celebrate their love forever..." She stopped at the twist of pain in her brother's face.
It smoothed instantly, though, and he said, "Continue. This scheme might march, and a human life is worth the trouble."
And the pain, Cordelia thought, and her heart flowed with love and pity for the lad. She did continue, though. "We would, of course, enclose that valley with an enchanted, invisible wall and ask the elves to set sentries about it night and day."
"In case she does discover her imprisonment? But if she does, elves or no elves, she will one day escape."
"I doubt that highly," said Cordelia, "but I doubt even more that she would ever realize that wall existed. If the construct were truly her ideal mate, she would never tire of her
dalliance with him and would never wish to stray far from his side."
Hope warred with hurt in Gregory's heart. Reason told him that after the novelty of being in love wore off, Finister would take up where she had left off. He warned his
"Aye, I have," he returned, "but if reason contradicts the impulse of conscience, I must choose the course of reason. Even now Conscience tells me not to strike a woman in cold blood, but Reason shows me that she merits death and, moreover, will find a way to strike at us again if I let her live."
"But you cannot know that!" Cordelia cried. "She might become sincerely penitent, might truly become your loyal friend!"
Gregory frowned at his big sister. "Do you truly think she does not merit death?"
Then he saw in her eyes that it was not what the woman deserved that concerned Cordelia, but her sudden fear of what her little brother had become. Gregory gazed at her, sadness weighing down his heart. "I am nothing more than I ever have been, sister," he said softly. "It is only this occasion that has made you see it."
The trembling took her again. "The Gregory I have known would always seek the course of mercy! Why death, Gregory? Why not some lesser punishment?" Then a happy thought struck her, and her hand tightened on his arm. "Would it not suffice for her to dwell forever in a prison from which she could not escape?"
"Aye, it would." Gregory gave her a sad smile. "But this is a woman of commanding presence, Cordelia, or she would never have risen to authority among her own band. Come, you know how intelligent and resourceful she is, and how unscrupulous. Do you truly think there is a jailer whom she could not bend to her will or a prison from which she could not escape?"
Cordelia stared at the ground, fists clenched, thinking fran-
tically. Surely the woman was a snake and a backstabber, surely she deserved to suffer, but death? Surely not, surely it would be evil to deprive her of life, especially when she was so young, had so much of life left, so many joys to come....
Inspiration struck, and she smiled at her brother in triumph.
'Aye, she could escape from any prison—save one in which she wished to stay."
Gregory stared. Then he frowned and said slowly, "She deserves to suffer for what she has done—but aye, I would be content if you could invent a prison that gave her so much joy that she wished to dwell there forever. How could you craft such a thing?"
"I cannot build a prison, but I can craft witch-moss," Cordelia said. "Let us find a huge mass of that fungus and fashion from it Moraga's ideal man."
Gregory frowned, searching her face, not understanding. Then comprehension dawned and his eyes widened. "Of course! If we search her mind to discover all she wants in a man, then make a construct that embodies those qualities, even all its contradictions and paradoxes, she might become so besotted with him that she would be content to stay with him all her days!"
"Even so," Cordelia said, beaming. "Of course, we would plant it in his mind to take her away to some hidden valley where they might celebrate their love forever..." She stopped at the twist of pain in her brother's face.
It smoothed instantly, though, and he said, "Continue. This scheme might march, and a human life is worth the trouble."
And the pain, Cordelia thought, and her heart flowed with love and pity for the lad. She did continue, though. "We would, of course, enclose that valley with an enchanted, invisible wall and ask the elves to set sentries about it night and day."
"In case she does discover her imprisonment? But if she does, elves or no elves, she will one day escape."
"I doubt that highly," said Cordelia, "but I doubt even more that she would ever realize that wall existed. If the construct were truly her ideal mate, she would never tire of her
dalliance with him and would never wish to stray far from his side."
Hope warred with hurt in Gregory's heart. Reason told him that after the novelty of being in love wore off, Finister would take up where she had left off. He warned his
Similar Books
