Under A Velvet Cloak by Piers Anthony Page B

awareness of you.”
    “You did nothing. I would have known.”
    “That is not enough. I prefer to be chaste in mind as well as body. I apologize for being mentally unchaste with you.”
    “Sir Gawain, I am long since unchaste; you cannot wrong me in such fashion, mentally or physically. Had anything happened, it would have been my fault for tempting you unduly. Please have no concern.”
    “I suppose that is the case. Yet you have been perfect as I have known you, temperate and useful. I would not know your history had you not told me your identity.”
    “I wish I had no history, so as to be as you would like to see me.”
    “As far as I am concerned, you are as I see you.”
    She felt an unaccustomed tear. “I hope never to disappoint you.” And what of her mission? Now she hated it.
    They traveled, exchanging good deeds for sustenance, and when that was not feasible, camping out. Kerena made sure always to see to the horses, conjuring water when the landscape was too dry. Unfortunately, one day Gawain caught her at it.
    “How came you by that water?”
    “I have a talent for finding springs.”
    He merely gazed at her with disappointment.
    “A magic talent,” she said, amending it. She was unable to lie directly to him. “I have a-a way with the dark arts. I did not want to embarrass you with that information.”
    “I have known it,” he said. “You can strike fire from nothing.”
    “Yes. But my ability need not sully you; I had it before I knew you, and you have never asked me to practice it.”
    “You have used it only at need, to serve me or the horses.”
    “I promised to be useful.”
    He considered. “I do not consider magic to be unclean, any more than sex is. I am aware that they are common for most people, and often useful. I merely prefer to retain the benefits of abstinence from things that can interfere with my mission.”
    “That is worthy.”
    “You are beautiful.”
    She wasn’t sure how to react, and not just because she was in ill-fitting brush-dried apparel, with her hair clumsily knotted and dirt on her feet. “You are kind.”
    “I am not referring to your appearance, though that is outstanding. In the things that matter, you have been the ideal maiden.”
    Again she felt the tear. “I am not.”
    “You believe that your past sullies you. I do not see it that way.”
    Now tears flowed in earnest. “I am what my history makes me. I can never be ideal.”
    He put his arms about her, comfortingly. “I apologize for bringing you grief.”
    “Don’t apologize to me!” she flared, pulling away. “I am not worthy of it.”
    “But you are.”
    “I am not!” She was in full dismay. That made her reckless. “I will prove it. I am not here on my own. I was sent by Morgan le Fey to seduce you so you could not find the Grail.”
    That set him back. “I did not know this.”
    “Now you
do.
I must leave you, lest I corrupt you.” Now she had betrayed her mission. What possessed her?
    “You could have done this before now. Why didn’t you?”
    “Because I love you.” Oh, damn! She had let her emotion govern her sense. But that did answer her own question: love possessed her. She couldn’t stand to hurt this man, and further silence was bound to do that.
    “But don’t you have a man you seek?”
    “I love him too,” she said, bemused by her own state. “I would not hurt either of you. So I must go.”
    “I know something of the Fey. She is not a nice person. She will punish you if you fail your mission.”
    “I know. But so it must be.”
    “I can not allow this. You must stay.”
    “I want to, but not for proper reason.”
    “Damn proper reason!” he swore, surprising her. “It is in any event too late.”
    “I don’t understand. If I leave now-”
    “I am already corrupted, in my heart. I can not continue my mission without you.”
    “Oh, Sir Gawain! I am sorry.”
    “So am I. We have no future together. I could never marry you; my family would not allow