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There's just something . . . different . . . about him. Not that he doesn't seem a good and brave and fair man," she hastened to explain when Raina cast her a skeptical look, "it's just that he seems rather sad. Perhaps he, too, left Incendra under tragic circumstances."
    "What have you told them about me?" Panic tautened Raina's voice and filled her heart. "You vowed never to tell anyone why I left Incendra. It's no one's business, and I mean for it to stay that way!"
    "Oh, no, Raina. Never." Marissa took the red-haired woman's hand. "I never told anyone—not even Brace— about what happened to you. And I never will!"
    "Fine." Raina withdrew her hand and leaned back. "I couldn't bear the shame of other . . . men . . . knowing that about me. I hate them all as it is. If they began to look at me . . . that way ... I swear I'd cut out each and every one of their hearts!"
    "Brace wouldn't do that," Marissa hastened to her husband's defense. "He'd—"
    "Pity me?" Raina laughed, the sound raw and ragged. "I couldn't bear that, either. I want nothing from men, Marissa, save to be left alone to live my life as I wish."
    "Well, at least you'll get neither lust nor pity from this monk. He is forsworn to keep himself apart from women." She cocked her head. "In fact, I couldn't imagine a more perfect partner for you, if you must be forced to take a man for a partner. He doesn't want you and you don't want him, yet you're both trained warriors and Incendarians in the bargain."
    "I never said I agreed to this mission," Raina growled. "You presume too much, even for our—"
    "Ah, there, here she comes now!" Marissa exclaimed in relief, noting the approach of the woman she'd been expecting. As the woman walked up and halted before her, Marissa stood and extended her hand. "Come, Cyra. Allow me to introduce you to Raina."
    Raina rose and eyed the other woman warily. She was small and delicately boned her piquant face and shoulders framed by a cloud of pale blond hair. If her simple garb of white overtunic and long blue skirt covered by a three-quarters'-length light gray open coat hadn't proclaimed her to be of the scientific bent, the sweep of her dark brown eyes as she scanned Raina did. The look had been sharply assessing and analytical. For all the outward semblance of delicate femininity, the warrior woman realized, this was not some submissive or ignorant female.
    "Raina," Marissa intruded into her friend's thoughts, "this is Cyra Husam al Nur. She is one of Bellator's— and the Imperium's—most brilliant geophysicists. Cyra is also the person who developed the hypothesis for the device that might well be the Imperium's salvation."
    "Then you're a woman worth knowing," Raina said extending her hand to the blond woman. "I'm a Sodalitas."
    Cyra took Raina by the arm and clasped her hand-to-elbow in the traditional Imperial greeting. "I've heard of you, Raina. Your exploits as leader of that warrior women society have preceded you. I couldn't be more pleased that you've agreed to this mission. It's dangerous enough without sending some inexperienced—"
    "I've agreed to nothing."
    The scientist paused and cast Marissa a quizzical look. "But I thought—"
    "Raina is correct," Marissa hurried to explain. "She hasn't accepted the mission as yet. We had only just begun to discuss this." She motioned to where two cushioned, brown-and-white mottled marmor stone benches sat at right angles to each other beside a large, copiously spewing fountain. "Come, let's move over there, where we can all talk in more comfort."
    They followed her in silence, settled themselves on the benches, then looked up expectantly at Marissa, who still stood before them. Behind Raina and Cyra, the water burbled and splashed as it tumbled from the gaping mouth of a stylized stone rapax looming on its stone pedestal high above the large, circular base of the fountain. In the fading warmth of the dying sun, a cool breeze slid over their skin. Marissa repressed a tiny