Shield's Lady

matter. The wrecked sled might as well have been on the moon for all the good it did her.
    Sariana left her chemise to dry on her body, picked up some of her wet garments and started forward, “Enough fun and games, Lucky. We’ve got to keep moving.”
    Her chemise dried fairly quickly. By mid-afternoon Sariana’s cloak was also dry. The skirts of her traveling dress took longer, but she was finally able to put it on as the late afternoon shadows filled the gorge. When she was dressed once more she looked down at herself in wry disgust. Everything she had on showed evidence of its recent ordeal in the river. A few things, such as the bodice of the dress, appeared to have shrunk. Ahead of her was the dismal prospect of a night spent alone on shore with none of the recently maligned western gadgets to make herself more comfortable.
    She wondered again just how far Gryph could have gotten the day before. The canyon walls loomed over her, rising to eerie heights and leaving very little sky visible as evening approached. Wearily she lowered herself to a rock and tried to figure out what to do next.
    For the first time since she had deliberately compelled Gryph to make love to her, Sariana tried to use the freakish new sense of communication she had discovered within herself.
    “It’s probably just like every other western gadget,” she informed the lizard as she sat on the rock and gazed out over the river. “A clever, intriguing toy that’s ultimately useless—especially when you really need it.”
    She had just finished uttering the words when the tendril of awareness brushed her mind.
    “Gryph!” She knew it was him. She was beginning to recognize the sensations of his mind. Those sensations were as unique and as identifiable to her as his physical features. He was somewhere nearby. She knew it.
    Reenergized, Sariana floundered through the underbrush and over the tumbled boulders that lined the river. The roar of the rapids cut off all other sound now. Sariana struggled to hold on to a vague sense of direction she had picked up from the fleeting touch of Gryph’s mind. She followed it blindly, heedless of the oncoming night, the rough terrain and the snagging undergrowth.
    A few minutes later she came to a halt, aware that the sense of direction had changed. Gryph was no longer in front of her. She was certain of it. He was above her somewhere.
    Sariana tipped back her head and scanned the dark walls of the canyon. He couldn’t be up there, she thought. She must have misread the feeling of direction she had gotten. But he was close. He had to be somewhere near. She was certain of it.
    Uneasily, Sariana eyed the boulders that had cascaded down the steep wall in front of her. Perhaps if she climbed higher she could get a clearer impression of where the stray thought had come from.
    She was groping for toeholds in the darkness when the booted foot appeared above her on top of the boulder she had been about to climb.
    Sariana screamed and jerked backward, nearly losing her balance. Lucky hissed inside the pocket.
    “Only a very strongly linked Shieldmate would have come this far in search of her lord,” the stranger said as he bent down and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. With seemingly little effort he pulled Sariana up the side of the boulder and stood her on her feet. Then he flipped on a small vapor lamp, revealing a scarred face. “Chassyn always did have the luck of the day. Until recently, that is. Come with me, Sariana. You are expected.”
    “Who are you?” she whispered, tugging her wrist free.
    “I am Lord Targyn.” A startlingly formal inclination of the head accompanied the introduction.
    “You’re a Shield.” She glanced at the weapon kit hanging on his belt.
    “The strongest one of all,” Targyn murmured.
    “I’ve always admired modesty. Let actions speak for themselves, I say. No need to brag.” Tension seemed to be having its usual effect. Her ever-nimble tongue was gearing up for battle.
    Targyn smiled strangely. “I, too, am a great believer in action. Are you ready?”
    “Depends. Where are we going?”
    “You have come to search for your lord, have you not?”
    “If we’re talking about Gryph, I should tell you I don’t think of him as my lord.”
    Targyn frowned. “Chassyn is your husband, isn’t he?”
    “Actually, I don’t think of him as either a lord or a husband. I think of him more as being a nuisance. But it’s mutual. I’m sure he thinks of me