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a project. These things must be done with delicacy, and for all that he’d managed to scare away most of the inhabitants of Summersedge Keep, he preferred the confines of his tower room for matters such as these. No one dared breach the fastness of his private quarters except Richard himself, and even he was usually too wise. As for Alys, she was a complication he would deal with later.

He was proven right in his surmise within the hour. He was in his workshop, making a mental list of all he would have Godfrey fetch to his room, when a shadow appeared at the door, blocking out the late afternoon sun, and he knew, to his regret, that it wouldn’t be the distracting Lady Alys.

Sir Thomas du Rhaymer stood in the doorway, tall, acutely uncomfortable, looking as if he’d just stepped into a nest of vipers, or a fresh pile of horse dung. Simon had no illusions as to what Thomas thought of him. He’d worked hard to engender fear and distrust and superstitious horror, and the noble Sir Thomas had always reacted just as Simon had planned.

“You do me great honor, Sir Thomas,” Simon greeted him smoothly, allowing just a trace of irony into his voice. “I trust Lady Claire and Lady Alys are safely bestowed?”

“They’re back in their solar, with Brother Jerome keeping them company,” Sir Thomas said slowly. He was a handsome man, a stalwart young knight, Simon thought Not so very different from the young man he had once been, so very long ago, it seemed.

He shook that thought from his head, never one to waste time on foolish memories. “I’ve spoken with Lord Richard. Lady Hedwiga should keep him well-behaved for the time being, though it seems best if you keep a close watch. Our liege lord is a man of impulse and strong actions, and he seems uncertain that Lady Claire is truly blood kin.”

Their eyes met briefly, both of them knowing that was a convenient lie. Thomas took a deep breath. “Even were she not, she is a lady worthy of gentle treatment and respect.”

“But who in this life gets what she or he deserves?” Simon countered, leaning against the workbench.

Thomas hadn’t come to him for a discussion of philosophy, nor to report on the condition of the two sisters, but he seemed curiously loath to get to the point. Simon was willing to wait.

“Our reward comes in the next life,” Thomas said stiffly.

“Will you have a true and faithful wife in the next life, Thomas?” he questioned softly. “A just lord, lands of your own, children to raise?”

“I have estates,” he said.

“But there’s not much use in holdings if there’s no one to share them with, is there?” He wasn’t quite sure why he wanted to taunt the young man. Thomas had lost almost as much as Simon had, and yet he still clung to his faith, to his honor. Such blind devotion annoyed him.

He’d pushed Thomas too far. The knight turned and started toward the door, and Simon was half-tempted to let him go. But curiosity was one sin he cultivated. “Leaving so soon, Sir Thomas?” he said. “I thought you came to ask me something.”

Thomas halted, turning to look at him, his face pale and set in the murky light. “Why would you think that?”

“You would hardly bother to inform me of the ladies’ well-being. You dislike and distrust me as much as everyone else in this castle, with the exception of Brother Jerome.”

“Brother Jerome is too good and too forgiving,” Thomas said sharply.

“To me?” Simon inquired. “Or to you?”

Ah, he was torn, and Simon found it vastly amusing. He wanted to storm from the workshop, cursing Richard’s wicked wizard. But there was obviously something he needed even more.

Thomas took a deep breath, steeling himself to do commerce with the devil. “I have need of your services.” It came out in a rough whisper, and Simon moved closer, keeping the triumphant smile from his face.

“I am honored, good knight,” he murmured. “And what can I do for you? A healing salve for boils, a spell for making money? A cure for impotence, a posset to cleanse the bowels? Or are you, perhaps, interested in a love philtre?”

“Are there such things?” he asked hoarsely.

“There are indeed. It is only a sorrow that the people of Summersedge are too afraid of me to seek my help.”

“You like to frighten them,” Thomas said.

Simon’s opinion of the young man rose a notch. “Indeed, I do. Very astute of you. Only the bravest dare seek my help or disturb my work. So tell me, sir knight, what can I grant you? I have things to accomplish before the evening meal, and while I find your company stimulating I’m afraid I must forgo its pleasure before long. You want a love charm, I assume? I needn’t ask for whom—it’s quite clear to anyone with eyes. You want Lady Claire to fall into your bed.”

“No!” he cried in real horror.

“No? You intrigue me. Then what is it you want?” he said with a trace of impatience.

“Something… something that would have the opposite effect,” he said in a harsh voice.

“The lady is too eager?” It was cruel of him to taunt the miserable young knight, but Simon couldn’t resist.

“No!” Thomas said.

“Be clear, and be brief, Sir Thomas. Tell me what you wish, and I will grant it if it’s in my power.”

“I want you to give me something to… to strengthen my will. To make me oblivious to the charms of… of a lady. I need the very opposite of a love potion. Something that would make me immune to base longings and desires.”

Simon didn’t laugh, much as he wanted to. Indeed, the poor, noble young man could almost break his heart, if one still beat within his scarred body. “I can’t do it,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

“Why not? Is it not within your powers?”

“I know of several ways to accomplish what you seek. None

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