chosen to leave his money in the well. Even the Maze could no longer be
considered safe, Hanse thought.)
He entered his room and closed the door with care, and bolted it with as much
care. A window leaked in a little moonlight, and by the time he had the cloak
unclasped and off and the tunic over his head, he was able to see pretty well.
That was how he discovered that a woman waited in his bed.
A girl, rather. The truly beautiful Lady Esaria. In his bed. She sat up, showing
that all she wore was the bedspread, and held out her arms.
Hanse was somehow able to avoid yelling or collapsing. He made it to the bed.
She was real. She was waiting for him. It was wonderful, all of it with her.
Even his wondering, Is she Eshi?, did not inhibit him or her or his enjoyment or
hers. What matter whether she was the Esaria she appeared to be or the goddess;
she was higher than he could have aspired, and the experience was supernal.
He deduced that it really was Esaria, not Eshi (in his dream, of course, he
reminded himself) because surely Eshi wouldn’t have been eating so much garlic.
She was gone in the morning, and he lay smiling, thinking about his dream. Lying
on his back, he rolled his head.
He could see cloak, tunic, and wine-sack from here. That brought him wide awake,
and sent his hand swinging down beside the pallet to check his buskins. The
silver coins were still there. Hanse demonstrated the cliche of sitting bolt
upright. Hurling back the spread, he inspected his bed. That required no effort.
The evidence of Esaria’s visit and her late virginity were vehemently present.