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Kris was more at ease with Talia than he’d ever been with any other woman; they laughed and traded jokes as if their friendship had grown through years rather than months.
    It was worse when they reached the Field and the tackshed, and Kris offered her an assist down with mock gallantry. She accepted the hand with a teasing haughteur, and dismounted with one fluid motion. Had Kris’ hand lingered in hers a moment or two longer than had been really necessary? Dirk couldn’t be sure. Their behavior wasn’t really loverlike, but it was the closest he’d ever seen Kris come to it.
    They unsaddled their Companions and stowed the tack safely away in the proper places after a cursory cleaning. Dirk’s was pretty much clean; but Talia’s and Kris’ needed more work than could be taken care of in an hour—after being in the field for so long, it would all have to have an expert’s touch. Dirk kept Talia in the corner of his eye while she worked, humming under her breath. Kris kept up his chatter, and Dirk made distracted, monosyllabic replies. He wished he could get her alone for just a few minutes.
    He had no further chance for observation. Keren, Sherrill, and Jeri appeared like magicians out of the thinnest air, converged on her, and carried her off to her rooms, baggage and all, leaving him alone with Kris.
    “Look, I don’t know about you, but I am starved,” Kris said, as Dirk stared mournfully after the foursome,
    Talia carrying her harp “My Lady” and the rest sharing her packs. “Let’s get the four-feets turned loose and get that dinner.”
     
    “Well?” Keren asked, her rough voice full of arch significance, when the three women had gotten Talia and her belongings safely into the privacy of her room.
    “Well, what?” Talia replied, glancing at the graying Riding Instructor from under demure lashes while she unpacked in her bedroom.
    “What? What! Oh, come on, Talia—” Sherrill laughed, “—you know exactly what we mean! How did it go? Your letters weren’t exactly very long or very informative.”
    Talia suppressed a smile, and turned her innocent gaze on Keren’s lifemate. “Personal or professional?”
    Jeri fingered the hilt of her belt-knife significantly. ‘Talia,” she warned, “If you don’t stop trying our patience, Rolan just may have to find a new Queen’s Own tonight.”
    “Oh, well, if you’re going to be that way about it—” Talia backed away, laughing, as Sherrill, hazel eyes narrowed in mock ferocity, curled her long fingers into claws and lunged at her. She dodged aside at the last moment, and the tall brunette landed on her bed instead. “—all right, I yield, I yield! What do you want to know first?”
    Sherrill rolled to her feet, laughing. “What do you think? Skif hinted that you and Kris were getting cozy, but he wouldn’t do more than hint.”
    “Quite cozy, yes, but nothing much more. Yes, we were sharing blankets, and no, there isn’t anything more between us than a very comfortable friendship.”
    “Pity,” Jeri replied merrily, throwing herself onto Talia’s couch in the outer room, then twining a lock of her chestnut hair around one finger. “We were hoping for a passionate romance.”
    “Sorry to disappoint you,” she replied, not sounding sorry at all, “Though if you’re thinking of trying in that direction—”
    “Hm?” Jeri did her best not to look too eager, but didn’t succeed very well.
    “Well, once he’s managed to shake Nessa loose—”
    “Ha!”
    “Don’t laugh, we think we know a way. Well, once she’s no longer hot on the hunt, he’s going to be quite unpartnered, and he’s just as—um—pleasant a companion as Varianis claims. Jeri, don’t lick your whiskers so damned obviously, he’s not a bowl of cream!”
    Jeri looked chagrined and blushed as scarlet as the couch cushions, as Sherrill and Keren chuckled at her discomfiture. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
    “You most certainly were. Keep your predatory