"You have looked in the Bowl of Seeing."
"Yes." I was surprised she should know about it.
"I have had other people look also," she said. "I know you can see nothing there. That is one reason why I asked to see you. I feared you must underestimate your opponent, who is a very clever and dangerous man. His name is Norval. He is a necromancer. An Aramayan."
I gaped at her.
A necromancer and an Aramayan! Death magic, and from one of the great old empires of the West. I was excited. Then I became doubtful. What she was saying was ludicrous. Surely mages and necromancers had better things to do than persecute courtesans. Master John had had no doubts about that. Here was a woman who was overreacting, overdramatizing in the way one might expect from her kind. I tried to answer as politely as I could under the circumstances.
"Please don't be anxious. I do have the situation under control. I foresee no difficulties."
"No," she said ruefully. "I don't suppose you would. We both know how powerful you are. I'm sure you would have no difficulty in a battle of magic with Norval. And I'm sure the Duke and I can rely on you to do your duty, however much you underestimate your opponent."
She began to pull her little lemon gloves back onto her hands. Sharply.
I bristled at her remark. Was the woman threatening me? Yet she had paid me a compliment. I began to have some inkling of what Master John had meant by manipulation. The extent of it, the huge vistas that opened up, frightened me.
I took my courage in both hands. "I do assure you that I have the situation under control."
She put her hand over her eyes for a moment and her figure, which a moment ago had been upright, drooped. She sighed. I almost felt sorry for her. Till I realized that this must just be a play for sympathy. But she surprised me.
"I realize that people here cannot believe a mage would bother himself with a whore. Mages here are so ... separate from ordinary humans ... I think they forget sometimes how much people ... can hate each other. Aramayan mages are not so separated from everyday life. And Norval was once my lover. It makes a difference, you know."
I was shocked, but tried not to show it. God and angels! Things were beginning to look very sordid indeed. I wanted to tell Madame Avignon that I had no wish to be involved in her private life. I said nothing. For a few moments the tension in the carriage was unbearable.
"Mademoiselle Dion, I have no doubts in you as a mage. It is Norval I fear. He is cunning. He will have realized by now that I have magical protection. Have you considered the physical danger to which you might be exposed? Have you considered that Norval might launch some kind of conventional attack on you? That is the way he works. Have you taken steps to make yourself safe in that sense?"
Dignity, Dion. Dignity. I was beginning to get hardened to her. I pretended I was Master John. "Madame, I live in a college of mages. We take steps to protect ourselves from intruders."
"Magical intruders, yes. But what about more conventional assailants?"
"We have wardings against those with evil intentions. Anyway, how should anyone know to attack me? The Duke himself said that nothing is known of our association."
"I fear that is not the case. Very little is secret at the court. My informants tell me that our association is already known in certain circles."
She frightened me there. Who knew? Or was this just another part of the whole fantasy. I was unsure what to do. I wished Master John was dealing with her. "Agree to nothing, Dion," said his voice in my head.
"Mademoiselle Dion, any good assassin knows methods for disguising his intentions. It might interest you to know that the captain of my bodyguard has twice entered the college, even to your own door. No one challenged him; no one stopped him. This is why I have come to see you today. If he can do it, so can an assassin."
I could not help feeling frightened and a little outraged. What a liberty the woman had taken!
"If anything happens to you, the way would be immediately open for an attack on me. I have many enemies in this city. It's not inconceivable that one of them may be in contact with Norval and will send an assassin against you."
Now I was sure she was overdramatizing.
"I am a mage, Madame Avignon. No ordinary assassin can harm me."
"You are not invincible, Mademoiselle. A good assassin knows how to get round a mage. Have you never heard of witch manacles?"
She couldn't have guessed how much that question would distress me. I knew too much witch manacles. They're the only way to disable a mage. An iron neck manacle breaks our circle of power and renders us helpless. Once I saw witch finders in Moria come to take the village healer away. How could I forget that cold iron manacle? I had felt the evil of it even from where I had been hiding. The healer's drained old face was white above it.
Once, too, Michael and I had hidden among the chimneys of Mangalore from a huge angry crowd, unable to escape without using magic, yet not daring to use magic because we could feel the questing minds of the witch finders reaching out for us. We hid there while they burned other mages in the square below, mages chained helpless to the stake with witch manacles. It was almost as if my nostrils could still smell the bitter scent of singeing hair and the sweet smell of burning flesh. It had smelled like nothing so much as roasting meat. As we lay there forced to listen, the soft old faces of the mages Michael had known came like possibilities into my mind, and I wondered which ones ... The awful screams ... I wanted to kill her for that remembrance.
"I have heard enough," I snapped. "If you would kindly take me home now."
"Mademoiselle?" She stared at me.
"I do not wish to discuss this foolishness anymore," I snapped. I jumped up and staggered against the movement of the carriage.
Her face was stricken. "Mademoiselle Dion, please."
"Please take me home." I said through clenched teeth.
"Of course. But please sit down."
She banged the roof of the carriage with her parasol. Silence.
"Mademoiselle, I did not mean to upset you. Please accept my apologies."
I was silent, too angry to accept anything.
"Mademoiselle, I merely wished to make a point," she said suddenly, beseechingly. "You would be much safer if you let me offer you protection."
"What do you mean?" I snapped.
"If you were living in my house, you would be safe from attack. The house is well guarded, and my bodyguards would watch over you as well as me."
She was trying to get control over me just as Master John had said! And then? What other favors might she feel free to ask?
"That could never happen," I said with what I thought seemed admirable restraint. "What about my reputation? What you are suggesting is ridiculous."
"Mademoiselle Dion, please," she cried. Her look was beseeching, and for an awful moment I thought she was going to throw herself down on her knees.
"I understand perfectly. I do not believe it would be ... right for me to stay in your house. A mage must remain a free agent."
Her face hardened.
"You must believe as you see fit," she said coldly (with enviable dignity). "I am thinking of my own safety and, therefore, of yours. I can tell you for certain that you are in danger. I offer you the services of my captain to guard you in the college. He is well versed in the ways of assassins and will be at your command. I beg of you to take my offer."
The carriage stopped. We were back where we had started. "Thank you, Madame," I snapped. "But I can look after myself perfectly well. Good day."
I did not look at her again.
Master John