Disclaimer: They all belong to Margaret Weis; I'm just borrowing

I. Passage

The Academy's spaceport was a tiny, minimal affair; the students were not encouraged to return home, nor to have visitors.

But even if it had been half the size of the planet, Maigrey would have known exactly where to go.

She ducked under the wing of the needle-nose spaceplane. "Derek?"

Derek Sagan turned from the ladder of the plane. "Maigrey." His lips twitched in a slight smile. "I should have known you'd find me."

"No thanks to you." He hadn't told her he was coming--- which was typical.

She glanced around; they were alone--- which a few years ago would have meant that she'd have flung herself into his arms for a much-needed hug. And that he'd have given it to her.

Not anymore. She was too old to hug him like a little sister... and, dammit to hell, not old enough for... what she really wanted. At least, not by his lights, damn him to hell.

She came to stand near him, not quite touching... close enough to feel the heat of his body and smell the musky scent of his skin. Dear God---

She cut off that line of thought in a hurry, before he could hear her. "Why are you here?"

Normally that little remark would have gotten a rise out of him--- of the "Aren't you glad to see me?" variety, which she always took as an invitation to try to demonstrate just how glad she was to see him... and which usually ended with him pushing her off his lap in something of a hurry.

Not today. He regarded her somberly. "We're to undergo the rite of initiation."

"What?" That was the last thing she'd expected to hear him say. "You're kidding." He shook his head, sharply, his eyes rebuking her frivolity. "Here--- now?" Nobody had told her anything.

He turned away. "On... the planet of my birth."

She shuddered at the chill in his words, rested a hand on his arm in reflexive comfort. He went still at her touch, but didn't pull away.

His arm was warm under her hand, all muscle and bone and sinew under tanned and battle-scarred skin. Absently, she traced the line of a new scar; he shivered slightly under the caress, then drew back abruptly.

She swallowed, shifted her weight awkwardly. "W-when?"

He looked back at her. "Right now." He turned back to the plane. "Get packed. I'm leaving in half an hour."

She mock-glared at him. "Won't do you much good without me." As a mind-linked pair, they had to take their initiation together--- which was why Derek was only undergoing it at age twenty-five.

His lips twitched in that half-smile of his that did such wonderful-awful things to her insides. "We'll see. You have---" his eyes unfocused for a minute as he consulted his mental clock; she followed the thought and finished with him--- "Twenty-eight minutes and fifty-three seconds."

He snorted. "Impudence--- now GET!" He pointed in the direction of the dorms. But his eyes were smiling.

She got, grinning impudently.

****

Derek let her fly copilot--- in fact, let her handle the take-off under his watchful eye. Really a generous gift, she thought, considering the circumstances.

Then again, bossing her around was probably as much--- and much-needed--- a distraction for him as flying the plane was for her.

They made the Jump, and Derek leaned back in his seat, staring out the viewport at the rippling darkness of Jumpspace, his eyes and thoughts... elsewhere. Where, she didn't know; he was shutting her out almost coldly.

Left for all practical purposes to herself in the little cockpit, Maigrey indulged herself in her favorite pastime: staring at Derek.

Mooning over him, her friend Semele would probably say... except Semele didn't know. Sem didn't much like Derek.... which was probably because Derek was the only human male in either of their experience who didn't fall at Sem's feet the minute she walked into a room.

Which was a damn good thing... because Maigrey would have knifed somebody if he had. She wasn't sure if it'd be Sem... Derek... or herself.

But Derek didn't seem much inclined to fall at anybody's feet....

Even hers.

She rested her elbow on the console and her head on her elbow, and studied him. Strong, patrician features, dark eyes and thick soft black hair that he always kept tied back--- damn him--- broad, muscled shoulders and no spare flesh to speak of---

Her lips twitched, as she remembered a line from an old 2D movie that she and Sem had watched the other night. "'A mind like Aristotle... and a form like mortal sin.'"

Sagan blinked, coming back to himself. "Eh?"

She blushed; she hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud. "Nothing."

The look he gave her said he could guess. She turned away, letting her hair fall over her face to hide her red cheeks. "Derek... what do you think it'll be like?"

He looked over at her. "The initiation?"

"What else?"

He chuckled at the retort, and she felt warm all over. She liked making him laugh. "I have no idea."

Talk of the initiation reminded her of something else. She touched his mind--- just a little "tap" to get his attention.

He dropped his outermost shield, let her in enough for talking... but not for anything else, to her vast disappointment.

Do you remember... a few years ago.... It was suddenly awfully hard to put her thoughts into words... though she was surprised they weren't coming through all by themselves.

What? His thoughts radiated impatience.

Well... actions did speak louder than words.

She pushed out of her seat quickly, tumbling into his lap before he could realize what she was about. You made me a promise... on my thirteenth birthday. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his, her heart beating like a drum. Do you remember what it was?

She felt him swallow, convulsively... as his arms went around her, apparently of their own accord, cradling her gently, firmly against his chest. Yes, I remember. His thoughts were mostly closed to her, but that brief communication was laser-hot.

She slid a hand into his hair, stroking the soft silky tail at the nape of his neck, playing gently with the thong that held it back. Are you going to keep it?

Of course. The words were clipped--- a mixture of white-heat and affront that she'd doubt him. I always keep my promises.

He turned his head slightly, his breath warm on the back of her neck, making her stomach do cartwheels with desire. She rubbed her hand against his shoulder, kneading the knotted muscles. His arm clenched around her.

Oh, good--- She rubbed her cheek against his neck, then turned her head and pressed a line of kisses down his neck to his collar, nuzzled her lips at the opening to his shirt---

He pushed her back roughly. But not now. Not yet.

She swallowed hard; she hadn't really thought he'd let her jump the gun... but it was five days till they got there....

Not until after the initiation. His tone brooked no argument. He held her eyes with his. When you're an adult--- you understand me?

The difference that less than a week was going to make in her maturity seemed really too slight for argument, but she nodded anyway. All right. If you're going to be that way.

I am. He relaxed then, leaning back in the seat, drawing her with him to rest against his chest. He rubbed his cheek in her hair, reached his fingers up to tangle in the loose strands.

She sighed in contentment, and brought a hand down to rub his chest, feeling the strong hard muscles through his shirt.

When her fingers brushed over a nipple, he caught her hand sharply, his grip strong enough to bruise. Enough.

Damn.

Be patient--- it's only two more days. His tone was mock- martyred. Give me your other hand.

She sighed. Come on, Derek--- her fingers played over the back of his neck, kneading tense muscles and tangling in the thick soft tail of hair.

I don't trust you. The touch of his mind was amused... but uncompromising.

Oh, all right. Now it was her turn for a martyred sigh, as she brought her arm around, let him clasp her wrists with one hand. His other arm steadied her against his chest, held her safe and steady since she couldn't balance herself.

As always, she felt a deep rush of pleasure from some dark well inside her--- being essentially helpless in his embrace, utterly dependent on him to hold her and support her. It was a guilty pleasure, but one she couldn't stop craving.

The quickening of his heartbeat in his chest told her that he enjoyed it too... that and the tight hard warmth she felt under her hips. There now. His mind was all white heat, flavored with a touch of humor. Isn't that better?

If you insist--- She tilted her head back to rest on his shoulder.

Oh, I do. I can't trust you to behave yourself, otherwise.He turned his head and pushed her back so that he could brush his mouth against hers. Like that?

You know that. She leaned into the light kiss--- only to have him pull back.

Easy.... His mind-touch was gentle, soothing... and still scorching. He leaned forward, holding her still, and brushed his mouth over hers again, slowly, then traced his lips along the line of her jaw.

She leaned into it as much as his firm clasp would allow. This was torture, pure torture, being teased like this---

How do you think I feel? The sense of his mind was amused on the surface, hiding a deeper truth. His lips found her earlobe, teased gently.

I'm not the one making you wait. She leaned her head into the caress, caught her breath as his teeth stroked sensitive skin.

His only answer was a soft chuckle.

And then for a long time he held her helpless and brushed kisses over her face and throat while she trembled in his arms and tried not to cry with delicious painful pleasure.

And finally he pressed his mouth to hers in earnest and let her kiss him with all the hunger she'd held back. Let her stroke his lips with hers and devour them. And for the first time, when she opened her mouth on his, he didn't draw back at once. And she stroked his lips with her tongue and cried out softly when he yielded to her and let her devour his mouth greedily while his tongue gently explored her lips.

And that was enough. Barely, but it was enough.

For now.

******

Ship's morning; Maigrey slithered down the ladder to the cockpit.

Derek didn't glance up. "Strap in--- we're coming out of Jump in---" that abstracted look; as usual, she recited with him--- "one minute and fourteen seconds."

Normally that would have gotten her at least a long-suffering look; this time, Derek didn't even seem to notice. She strapped herself into the copilot's chair and studied him worriedly--- enough so that she didn't even linger over his half-open collar.

His eyes were sunken and hollow, like burnt-out cinders; she was willing to bet he hadn't slept, though his mind was closed to her. He looked about ten years older than he had when she'd gone to bed last night. His lips were pressed tightly together, though his hands on the controls were steady.

The reason for that change came up on their screen a minute later as the ship dropped out of Jumpspace and into real-time.

The planet of his birth... which she'd never heard him call his homeworld. Much less his home.

"Want me to---" she asked, intending to offer to do the landing, like she had the takeoff. He could use the distraction.

And truth to tell, she wouldn't mind chasing the butterflies out of her stomach.

He shook his head. "I'll manage." His tone was clipped, harsh.

She sat back in her seat, watching, heartsick, as he brought the plane down with customary efficiency and lifeless hollow eyes.

For the first time since she'd hit puberty, she wanted to curl up in his lap for reasons other than sensual.

Because she was scared, dammit--- scared for him, because he looked so hurt and alone. And scared for them both, because God alone knew what the ceremony was going to bring.

Their plane skimmed over the surface of a planet that was nothing but barren waste. Maigrey had seen some deserts that were beautiful--- there were parts of her homeworld that were desert--- but this wasn't. It was desolate, ugly, forbidding. She was grateful it was planetary night--- she wouldn't want to see this place in the daytime.

Maigrey snuck a glance at Derek. This was where he'd spent the first twelve years of his life.

Her heart wanted to break.

Derek brought the plane to rest in front of a spare, beautiful building rising up from the desert like an aesthetic oasis. Pale stone walls swept in a graceful line to a series of strong clean points above shimmering windows. The building should have looked out of place here, yet somehow it fit.

Derek's mind touched hers. The cathedral.

And, though she knew she wasn't meant to hear it, she caught the undertone of his thought: Where my parents... came together.

She shuddered at the dark and bitter thread rippling and twisting in his mind.

He wished they hadn't. That was the essence of it.

She unhooked her harness and came to stand behind him, rested her hands on the back of his chair. Not touching, but letting him know wordlessly that she at least was glad he existed.

He tensed when she moved, relaxed a little when her hands only rested on his chair.

After a long moment, his hand came up and covered hers, warm and strong and solid... and grateful.

She covered his hand with her other one and held on. And for a long moment they stayed that way, taking comfort from each other.

Finally he spoke. "We'd best... go in."

*****

Sagan had never been in the cathedral before. His twelve years here had been spent in the Abbey---

He fought a spasmodic shudder. At least they weren't going there... at least Maigrey would never have to see---

He cut off that line of thought before she did see, through his mind. She had the uncanny ability to see through him, always....

He turned his eyes from the vaulted ceiling and shimmering light to watch as Maigrey poked about, curious as a cat.

"Little wildcat": that had been his pet name for her when they were younger. He'd stopped using it once it became apparent that the nature of their relationship was about to change... so to speak.

She was scared, he could feel the near-panic rippling in her mind... scared and trying to bury it, to impress him.

He fought a smile... one tinged with old pain. Amazing, really, that she should care---

He watched her, letting his thoughts sink into the safe and peaceful place he only found in her presence. Watched the unconscious lithesome grace of her walk and the sweep of her hair, the way the light from the votives caught the inner light of large intense grey eyes.

He was happy watching her. Which in itself was reason enough to love her.

She turned back to him, finally, came to his side. Her mind touched his--- welcome warmth that said he wasn't... alone. What now?

We wait.

She nodded, silently, and came to huddle near him, shivering, her hands tucked into her crossed arms. It's cold. She came from a warm planet, and had never really gotten used to true cold, for all she loved spaceflight.

It always is here, at night. He remembered too many times of curling in on himself in the darkness, trying to find a little warmth, a little... safety.

She tilted her head up at him. Your bedroom was always cold.

He couldn't suppress a smile at the memory her words called up: six-year-old Maigrey, climbing eleven stories' worth of dormitory wall to his window. You didn't have to come.

Oh yes I did. Her words brooked no argument.

It had always amazed him, that she wanted to be with him. The first time he could remember being happy was when she clambered up into his lap like he was her personal property, and fell asleep in his arms, cuddling close.

She was the first person who'd ever touched him gently. Who'd ever been kind.

I missed you, she continued the thought. Then, more softly, I still miss you, when you're away.

Unbidden image of a cold empty bed and how much she missed nestling into his warm, sheltering arm. They'd shared a bed enough, when they were children--- no reason not. And every reason to, when it made her happy and she kept his nightmares away. Unlike now....

He sighed softly. Come here. And held out his arms to her. I can still keep you warm.

She looked up at him in amazement for a second--- then flung herself into his embrace, for all the world like the child she had been.

He wrapped his arms about her, tucked her against his chest, and let her burrow in close. There... warm now?

Mmmmmmm. Soft, contented sound, that all was right with her world.

He relaxed. She was happy; he'd made her so. That was how it was supposed to be.

After all, what other possible purpose could there be for his existence?

A sound made him start; Maigrey's head came up from his chest. What---

I'll see. Automatically, he stepped around her, moving her behind him--- and ignoring her muted mental snarl of protest, that she could take care of herself, thanks very much--- "Who's there?" he asked aloud, his voice harsh and out of place in the stillness.

A shudder went through him at that sound, that thought. His back still bore the scars from times he'd spoken too loudly in childhood.

He'd been safe from that at the Academy. Safe in the Fleet, for God's sake, where a commanding voice was an asset. He'd thought he'd put that time out of his memory---

The memory redoubled at the sound of a low, muted voice. "Are you Derek Sagan?"

"Yes." He lowered his voice automatically, then wished he hadn't. It put him at a disadvantage--- but he couldn't help it. Old training died hard, especially the sort gotten at the end of a whip.

"And your companion--- Maigrey Morianna?"

Maigrey stepped forward, ignoring his warning. "I am."

A robed and hooded figure stepped forward from the darkness around the confessionals. "I am Brother Utilus." Sagan felt his lips twitch: "helpful" indeed. And no one he remembered. Very good. "The two of you are to accompany me."

Sagan felt a fist clench round his heart. "Where?"

Brother Utilus looked startled. "To the Abbey of St. Francis, of course--- weren't you told?"

Of course not. No one in the Order ever told him anything... except the one thing he hadn't wanted to know. But all he said was, "No." And tried to fight the flood of sick horror in his stomach.

That place. He'd thought when he was eighteen that he'd escaped forever. Escaped into a world where he had a purpose... and something that made him happy.

Both of which were embodied in the slim womanchild standing just behind him.

God... that she should see what his life had been....

The brother nodded, resigned. "Well, done is done--- though I presume you weren't told of the other restrictions?"

His throat went tight; it was Maigrey who spoke for them. "'Other restrictions'?"

Brother Utilus dropped his eyes, as was proper when speaking to a woman. "You, young lady, are to wear a monk's robe, so that the rest of the brethren may remain unaware of the woman in their midst---"

"Unaware?" Sagan's voice was louder than he intended.

The brother's calm, quiet eyes turned to him. "Only those involved with the rite are to know of your presence with the walls."

Sagan felt a tension go out of him he hadn't known was there. This Brother Utilus would undoubtedly be the one to perform the ceremony, given that level of secrecy--- and they could leave without having to deal with anyone from his past.

His father... or Brother Castus.

Maigrey flickered a troubled glance up at him, then back to the monk. "All right," she said. "Anything else?"

Her tone was rather too flippant for his liking. He rested a cautionary hand on her shoulder, squeezed, not gently. She flicked a hard look at him, but subsided, drawing near to him.

Of course: she was still cold.

The brother glanced at Sagan's hand on Maigrey's shoulder; Sagan tensed himself for a rebuke.

But Utilus only smiled. "You are not to speak to anyone, nor to discuss what you see of the monastery with outsiders. None of the laity should learn that we have allowed a woman within our walls even for a such a sacred purpose."

Sagan felt his lips twist bitterly. Of course not. Then people might suspect more... incidents... like the circumstances of his birth.

The brother came forward. "Here are the robes for the young lady---" He held out the coarse monk's robe, a little awkwardly; as a sworn celibate, Utilus was bound to avoid all possible contact with women.

Maigrey's laughter chimed in his mind.

Frowning, he took the robes from Brother Utilus, handed them to Maigrey with a stern admonition to Behave yourself. She took the robes with dignity and the chastisement with her usual impudent Spoilsport.

He wasn't sure if the shimmy she used to wiggle herself into the robes was intended to annoy Utilus... or him.

The three of them slipped on their breathing apparatus, and then he and Maigrey followed Brother Helpful into the night.

*****

The cathedral was only a hundred yards away... but the walk seemed to take forever.

Derek's mind was closed to her, frighteningly shut to her tentative touch.

Damn, she shouldn't have played those games with him. Not now.

Not going into this place. For this purpose.

Which thought started the butterflies in her stomach again... only now they'd upgraded to heavy cruisers, at least a fleet's worth.

The wind threatened to knock her off her feet, cutting under her robes with its chill breath. She stumbled.

Derek caught her, pulled her close and drew her to his side, sheltering her from the wind. She looked up at him, never mind it was a futile gesture in the darkness. Thanks.

Of course. He never said, You're welcome, like a normal person. Just that, Of course, like of course he'd do something she'd thank him for.

She was glad he couldn't see her glare in the dark.

Because she was sure he was upset enough already. She'd felt him jump when he'd heard they were going to the Abbey. Not a good jump either, like she'd have done if they were going to her father's fortress--- going home.

Derek never used the word "home".

Seeing the ugly grey shape of the monastery squatting in the distance, she understood why.

You couldn't call that dark and forbidding lump a home.

She edged closer to him, suddenly wishing she could take back all the teasing and the pestering and the unthinking selfish assumptions she'd always made about him. That of course he would be happy to put up with anything she wanted--- because she loved him.

Seeing that--- prison--- loom up in the distance made her wish she'd been so much nicer to him all along.

Even as she wondered what somebody who grew up in a place like that would consider "nice".

As if in answer to her thought, Derek looked down at her. Are you all right?

She shivered, felt guilty for imposing her little fears on him. I'm fine. Then, belatedly realizing that she had a chance to try to make things all right, And you?

For a moment, she thought he was going to shut her out right then and there.

Then, slowly, his hand slid down, caught hers and held it firmly. His fingers were warm and strong and deeply, deeply reassuring. Just fine.

On that note, they reached the Abbey doors.

*****

As soon as they went through the doors, Derek dropped her hand; she'd expected that. They were, after all, in a house of God.

The place where he grew up. She couldn't forbear trying to get a sense of it in quick glances from under her hood.

It was cold here, like outside, and dark but for the torches on the walls. And silent, dead-silent; their boots on the stone floor sounded all out of place in the stillness.

Cold and dark and silent. She understood now, why Derek was... the way he was.

God, what a place... what a place to be a child. He wouldn't have ever run, or laughed, or played. She was sure of it. This wasn't a place where you did those things. Even if you were a child and playing was supposed to be your job.

This wasn't a place where anyone could ever be happy.

She crept closer to Derek. He gave no sign that he'd noticed, his eyes focused straight ahead, unseeing. He could probably walk these corridors with his eyes closed and not miss a step.

Where are we going? she asked, more to be saying something than because she really cared. And in the next breath cursed herself for bothering him.

He flicked a glance down at her, but his expression wasn't at all cross--- rather surprising. To the chapel, I'd imagine. His mind-voice was curiously neutral, blank.

And his words brought back the memory of why they were here... which started her shaking all over.

Hush. His hand found hers again, gently. Everyone goes through this, Maigrey. At least--- a heartbeat's pause--- at least we get to do it together.

She relaxed. He was right.

And there wasn't anything they couldn't face together.

She tightened her grip on his hand, saw the play of light and shadow on his face as he smiled slightly at her touch.

And then they stopped before a pair of double doors, and her stomach lurched.

The chapel.

*****

The monk left them there, in darkness and silence.

What do we do? Maigrey kept even her mindvoice quiet.

Derek's thought was like an anchor in a storm. We go in.

He pushed on the doors, and she crept in behind him, grateful beyond words that he was here with her. She couldn't do this without him.

The chapel was all darkness and silence. What now?

Derek's thought had a certain frustrated air to it. I don't know any better than you do.

Reflex supplied the retort before conscious thought could take over. You know everything else--- why not?

The mental equivalent of a long-suffering--- and grudgingly amused--- sigh was her only answer.

A voice resounded in the darkness, startling them both. "Kneel."

Maigrey shuddered violently at the command. DEREK!---

Just do it. His mindvoice was harsh.

Shivering, she dropped to her knees, felt him bend himself into the posture rather more gracefully. His devotions were a good bit more frequent than hers.

The voice, rasping and hoarse, reached them again. "Stretch out your hands."

Maigrey reached out, jerked back as her hand encountered something rough and scratchy.

Derek's thought--- It's only cloth!--- touched her mind a second before the voice said, "Take the robes. Strip off your clothes, and put them on."

Maigrey picked up the robes with a shaking hand, started to get to her feet--- wobbled as her knees gave out.

For the second time that night, Derek's strong hand supported her. Enough! His thought was sharp with disapproval... but underneath she felt his own fear.

She relaxed a little. If it made Derek feel better to yell at her, then it was okay. He needed it more than she did.

Besides, his hand on her arm was comfort enough.

At that thought--- he removed his hand, quickly. Damn.

She started to slither out of the monk's robe--- got tangled in the sleeves.

Derek, sighing audibly, helped her. Damn it, girl!

I'm sorry! Her own thoughts were shrill with tension.

She heard him take a deep breath. We're both on edge. As close to an apology as she'd get from him in this lifetime. She smiled, feeling a little better.

His thoughts touched hers again, this time with a hint of wry humor... and an electric undercurrent. I trust you can manage the rest?

Which reminded her that, for a moment at least, they'd be naked beside each other... and of his promise to her. This time.

He cut off contact posthaste--- but not before she felt the white heat her words called up in him.

She took a deep breath. If they could just get through this....

She stripped off her clothing, felt/heard the little movements beside her that said he was doing the same. She could feel the warmth of his body so near hers, the combination of thrill and comfort---

Let's get on with this, shall we? His thought was rough, impatient... but she felt the reason for his impatience underneath and had to smother a grin.

Okay. She slipped the robe on over her head, heard him do the same.

The voice spoke again. "Come forward."

Moving hesitantly in the darkness, she did so. He did. A few steps later, Derek's hand brushed hers in wordless invitation. She took it, clung.

A candle flared, revealing a circle of salt, an altar covered in a black cloth, and a priest, robed and hooded.

The priest threw his hood back.

Beside her, Derek started violently, his face going pale. His hand on hers clenched convulsively, then dropped like she'd burned him.

Maigrey flickered a thought toward his mind, intending to ask---

His thoughts answered her question--- as her own eyes found the answer.

The monk's face was stern, harsh, with clean patrician featured and dark, penetrating eyes. His hair, long and dark, was tied back in a simple tail. His frame beneath the robes was all muscle and bone, not an ounce of spare flesh on him.

Like his son.

Maigrey stayed very still, not wanting to intrude any more than she could help. This was between Derek and his father.

A father who--- she knew in that instant--- he thought hated him.

Looking up at him, she didn't see the young starpilot, the warrior she admired... the man she loved and wanted to distraction. She didn't even see the older boy she'd worshiped as a little girl. She saw a scared, hurt little child... who didn't expect anything. Except maybe pain.

Oh, God. Oh, dear, merciful God--- if You are merciful, which I'm beginning to doubt. Poor Derek.

The priest's voice was harsh from disuse--- at least, she hoped it was only disuse. "Say nothing." The words were probably just part of the ceremony, meant for them both, but Derek trembled as at a rebuke. "Your thoughts turn inward and outward." The priest gestured, a little stiffly, with his hands. "Within, you look to yourselves... and to each other." Thank you. "Without, to the Creator... and to each other."

Interesting juxtaposition. She'd ponder it another time. Right now, she was just glad of the excuse to touch Derek's mind.

He caught her half-hesitant strand of thought like a lifeline, though he kept most of his mind hidden from her.

That was okay. It was enough just to cling to him and know that he was there.

The priest lit another candle, illuminating a circle of salt on the floor before them. "Step into the circle. Step over the edge."

They moved as one, their bodies touching, staying close together for comfort.

The priest raised his eyes and arms to the heavens. "Creator, two come before you who are on the verge of adulthood--- who seek to understand the mystery of their lives---"

Maigrey couldn't concentrate on the words, couldn't think about much of anything except the fact that Derek, beside her, was in purest agony. The body near hers was a live wire.

And there was nothing she could do for him. Nothing except stand there and let him know she was here.

*****

His father's hands--- hands that had been quick with blows or a whip--- drew back the cloth covering the altar.

Sagan stared at the objects there, trying to focus, trying not to lose control.

He'd destroyed his father's life. His very existence had been a punishment to the man who had given him that existence.

There had been times in his childhood when he'd rather doubted he was worth it.

Beside him, Maigrey trembled, bringing him back to reality.

Maigrey. Maigrey needed him. That was his purpose. His father hated him... but that wasn't why he existed. Maigrey was.

The objects on the altar--- a wand, a ball, a pitcher, a brazier--- meant nothing to him.

His father was speaking; the ritual words went past him as he tried to divine some sense of the man behind them.

All he'd known of his father was silence and the back of a heavy hand. This was his only chance to know more.

Because he'd never come back here again. Never. Maigrey didn't deserve to be subjected to this place, even vicariously.

His father's voice was rusty from disuse, harsh and raw. His eyes focused on the altar, the candles, the heavens.

Anywhere but on his son.

Beside him Maigrey was silent--- scared as he was, perhaps. Which meant he was failing. He stroked a tendril of thought along her mind, and she leaned into it gratefully, as she'd clutched at his hand.

Better.

He snapped back to the ritual as his father picked up the wand.

The rusty voice spoke. "Air. Breath of life--- wind of destruction."

The strong hard hand moved the wand in a slow circle.

A wind gathered itself about them, whipping their robes, setting the candles to flickering madly. It pulled at them, trying to draw them apart, stealing even their breath with its chill force---

NO! Their thought came as one. He reached out, clasped her close in his arms and felt her own arms, strong for a girl's, wrap around his waist as she pressed herself against him.

The wind changed direction now, whipping about them, drawing them close together--- wordless blessing on their union. He drew a deep breath, and another. She breathed easier too, nestled in his arms as the warm breeze cradled them as they turn held each other.

He relaxed. She did. But they held tight to each other until the wind died.

He let her go, slowly, half-afraid it would come back of a sudden and steal her from him.

But it didn't.

And his father gave no sign that he'd noticed.

He stood near her, protective and protected, as his father raised the silver ball. "Earth--- matter. You can control matter."

His father tossed the ball up in the air. It spun slowly, the light reflecting from it in a bizarre play of shadow... and slowly, a series of razor-sharp spikes extended from the ball, until it resembled nothing so much as a caltrop from hell.

"Place your hands beneath the ball." His father's voice was dispassionate.

Sagan stepped forward, between Maigrey and that object. He'd borne the brunt of his father's cruelty before this--- let him be the one.

His father's face showed no emotion. "Both of you."

Maigrey stepped forward, seemingly unhesitant--- but Sagan saw the flicker of panic in her eyes.

He'd die himself before he'd allow that thing to hurt her.

They placed their hands beneath the ball, fingers touching, linking instinctively. Their minds webbed together likewise, without conscious intent.

The globe started to fall---

The web of their minds caught it, held it firm.

He sought Maigrey's eyes, found them: warm and bright with elation. A simple thing, really, compared to what they'd been trained to do--- but symbolic, and therefore powerful.

His father's voice came again. "Though you can control matter with your mind, there are forces in the universe you cannot control. Then you must bear the pain they bring, mental and physical."

Mental and physical---

In his memory, the whip came down--- and above it, the face of the man before him now.

A man who had never once touched his son but to inflict pain.

Sagan wanted to laugh. He stared at his father, challengingly. You know the pain I can bear--- you watched me suffer for twelve years---

Mental and physical---

He'd rather die than let Maigrey suffer.

She was staring at him oddly. He controlled himself, with an effort.

"Such a force you will face now," his father said coldly. "The globe will drop. I cannot stop it. You cannot. Will you have the courage to catch it?"

Across from him, Maigrey's face had gone ghost-white in the candlelight. She stared up at the ball in horrified fascination.

If he'd needed any encouragement, that would have been enough.

He'd catch it--- before those spikes could touch her fingers.

And throw it back in his father's face.

He drew his hands a little above Maigrey's. She wouldn't appreciate his help... but he couldn't not.

What else could he do?

The globe fell--- he started to raise his hands to protect hers---

The light from the candles shone through the spikes... that weren't there.

Illusion.

He let the ball drop. Into both their hands.

Maigrey's eyes on his were wide with relief. Under the ball, her fingers trembled; he pressed them with his, gently, touched her mind with wordless comfort.

She leaned into the caress--- his little wildcat. Safe. Untouched.

Illusion.

He drew a deep breath, then took the ball from her hands, set it wordlessly on the altar.

His father held up the pitcher. "Water, from which comes life."

He gestured peremptorily--- familiar motion!--- toward the two of them. "Cup your hands."

They did. His father poured water into Sagan's hands. "Let your partner drink."

Partner. It was the first time he'd ever thought of that word for Maigrey. He shot his father a surprised... and grateful... glance.

He held his palms up to Maigrey's lips. She flicked a glance up at him, her eyes suspiciously bright, and lowered her face to his hands.

He felt a strange thrill go through him as her lips brushed his palms---- pleasure, but not simply sexual. Rather, it was as if his whole world had narrowed to the site of contact.

She lingered a moment over his hands, her lips touching his palms, then drew back.

"What did you taste?" his father asked her.

She gulped, threw Sagan a startled glance. His tipped her a tiny nod, brushed her mind with a thought--- Say what you're thinking. It's all right.

She swallowed again. "H-honey mead." Her voice quivered a little with embarrassment.

His father gave no reaction. "Cup your palms," he ordered her. She did as she was told, casting Sagan a flickering little glance. Her hands shook slightly as his father poured the water.

She turned to Sagan without being told, held her hands up to him.

Her eyes on his were bright, shining like twin stars.

He cupped his hands around hers--- heard her indrawn breath--- and bent to drink.

It was liquid lightning he tasted, sending a delicious tingling through his mouth and throat, stealing his breath.

His lips touched her palms. Daring a break in the ritual, he kissed them.

Her hands trembled in his; the tip of one finger stroked under his chin.

He drew back--- back to reality as his father's voice asked harshly, "What did you taste?"

Sagan choked on the words--- felt Maigrey's touch in his mind, gently amused... deeply delighted. Say it. I did.

But it wasn't your father standing there, he thought but did not tell her. "Lightning," he said simply--- and felt Maigrey, so close beside him, tremble.

His father lit the oil lamp. "Fire--- sustainer, destroyer." He gestured to the lamp. "Pass your hands through the flame."

Maigrey glanced at him. Derek--- this can't be illusion---

I know. So... the spiked ball hadn't destroyed either of them--- now it was fire. He stepped forward, cast his father a defiant glance--- and put his hand into the flame.

The fire flickered, wrapped around his hand, filling the room with the smell of burned flesh.

The pain was nothing. He'd had worse. Let him bear the brunt of it.

Maigrey clearly didn't agree. With a harsh cry she flung herself forward, reached her hand into the fire before he could stop her.

Their fingers touched, then her hand clasped his.

The fire died, leaving them both whole, undamaged.

Sagan drew back, pulling her with him, sheltering her with his free arm. Maigrey stared at him... but didn't draw away.

He met his father's eyes, waiting. Waiting for a word, a sign... some evidence of the man's reaction.

His father stared back, impassive. But for the first time since the rite began, those eyes at least rested on his son.

"I have received a sign from God," the priest said shortly. "You are to be taken into the Order as a warrior-priest---"

NO! The thought was Maigrey's, was his. He couldn't tell.

Oh, dear God... how can You do this?

To take him away from Maigrey... forever....

What was the purpose... of anything?

He turned to his father, prepared to fight as he hadn't once fought in those dark and lonely years. Perhaps because he hadn't known there was anything worth fighting for.

His father's next words killed Sagan's defiant cry. "You will swear no vows--- only an oath of fealty to God." Was it his imagination, or did his father's eyes flick to Maigrey and then back?

It didn't matter. He wasn't going to lose her.

"Do you accept?" His father's voice was cold, uncompromising.

He reached out a mental hand to Maigrey, wordless question.

And her wordless answer, astonishing him--- that she would support him whatever he chose.

For a moment, he couldn't get a breath. Then, painfully conscious of his father's eyes on him--- "I accept."

His father showed no reaction. "Kneel."

Sagan dropped to his knees at his father's feet---

Flashback of so many other times he'd assumed that position; his father's hand upraised, the crack of a slap or the sharp sting of the lash---

He forced himself back to the present, forced himself to recite the words of the oath his father told him. Forced himself... as he so often had... not to tremble.

And through it all, he could feel Maigrey's eyes on him, feel the warmth of her presence in the back of his mind.

And, God help him, though he was supposed to care for her, he leaned his soul into the link and took selfish comfort from their closeness.

And then it was over, and his father released him with a familiar curt gesture. He got to his feet, moved back to Maigrey's side. Where it was safe.

His father's eyes flickered, moved to a distant point, someplace beyond this world. When he spoke, his voice was clear, smooth, but distant, abstracted.

"Two together must walk the paths of darkness to reach the light."

Maigrey's eyes on Sagan's were large and luminous in the candle flames for an instant.

Then abruptly, the candles guttered out.

In the darkness, they clung to one another. Derek--- what's---

I don't know. I'm here. The thoughts followed naturally on one another's heels.

Then, as suddenly as they had gone out, the candles flickered back into life.

They were alone in the candlelight, standing before an empty altar. Their clothes lay neatly folded before them, on the floor.

Derek--- Maigrey's chill thin fingers curled around his wrist--- what... what's happened?

He shook his head. The last... that was a prophecy. Interesting. He'd never known that his precognitive gift came from his father. As for the rest....

We're partners. Her voice was definite. That's what it means.

And she smiled.

She wanted him. It was enough.