"Indeed. Just as you were not lost the other day?
Your pretense is foolish. I saw you scrabbling about the forest floor, and I watched your face grow dark with the setting of the sun. If you are looking for something, you should let me assist. I know the woods well. Alone you may never succeed."
Marguerite considered this for a moment. The Vis-tani spent their lives in the wild, and their reputation as trackers and woodsmen knew no equal. Perhaps Ramus could help her after all-if she could trust him. He stood beside his horse, smiling. He had summoned the dead, it was true, and made a few roguish advances, yet Marguerite did not fear him. Strangely, she did not dread him in the least. And she did not wish for him to leave her alone.
"Don't laugh," she said, "but I am seeking the web of a white spider."
Ramus chortled. "Not pregnant yet, is that it? And _ord Donskoy knows no patience."
Marguerite's face grew hot,
"Perhaps I can help there as well," he continued, "and we won't be needing a spider."
"You are too bold," said Marguerite huffily. "I don't want your help after all."
Ramus stepped closer and touched her arm. "Forgive me, Marguerite. I did not mean to offend you- ¦ru!y. Perhaps I spend so much time alone that rudeness comes easily. Please allow me to assist you. I Know where to look, and it is dangerous for you to continue this search alone."
*****
Reluctantly, she accepted his help. Claiming they would do better on foot, Ramus took his satchel from his mount and slapped it on the flank; the horse vanished into the shadows. They wandered together into the woods. He explained that the spider she sought could be found only in a cave. Marguerite protested at first, thinking Zosia would surely have toId her as much, but she followed anyway. She had enjoyed no success on her own.
The pair walked down into the hollows, and then up again, until they reached a sharp outcropping of rock, jutting up toward the sky.
"A cave lies near the top," Ramus said. "Inside, I believe we'll find the spider you need."
Carefully they picked their way up the slope. As promised, they came upon the mouth of a cave. Marguerite stooped, following Ramus's lead, then emerged in an immense chamber. A strange red moss coated the walls, lighting the cavern with a faint luminescence. Stalagmites rose up from the floor, reaching out toward their twins above. Between the pinnacles, great webs hung like lacy sails. Small white bones were scattered about the floor below.
Marguerite noticed a firepit near the center of the cave. A stack of kindling and small branches lay beside it. Someone had been here before-Ramus, undoubtedly. After all, the cave provided a natural shelter.
"Sit," said Ramus, "and rest a while. I'll build a fire. Then we'll wait for the spider to crawl into view. Ef we remain quiet, it shouldn't take long."
Marguerite stood gazing about the chamber, awestruck. The webs were immense, and she could only wonder about the size of their maker. "But I don't need the spider itself," she protested gently, "only the web."
"Until we see the spinner, we cannot be sure of the product."
Marguerite heard the crackling of a fire behind her. She turned, and saw that Ramus had already mounded kindling in the black hollow and summoned a flame. She wondered at his skill. Something nagged at the back of her mind, some inconsistency between the fire and the Vistana's statement, but she was too weary and cold to bring it to the fore.
Ramus took a blanket from his satchel and spread it near the fire. He bowed deeply, then motioned for Marguerite to sit. She smiled and complied. The gypsy added a small log to the fire, reaching across her, brushing her arm. He sniffed, then reached out and lifted the pouch from her neck. "What's this?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.
"Protection," she said. "Zosia gave it to me. Don-skoy's cook. She's a Vistani too, or was. She's rather secretive."
Ramus raised a brow, and Marguerite suddenly feit foolish.
"Anyway," she continued, "Zosia told rne this would keep the beasts of the forest at bay."
Ramus laughed darkly. "Somehow I doubt it." He sniffed the pouch again and grimaced in disgust. "Though it could deter anything with a sensitive nose. And it might also deter the spider." He tugged at the string circling Marguerite's neck and broke it, throwing the pouch into the fire. The flames reared up, angry and green, then subsided and began lapping at the edges of the leather.
"Thanks a lot," muttered Marguerite.
Ramus looked at her and smiled. "Don't worry. I will see that you return to the keep safely. You should trust me, Marguerite. What other stranger has treated you so kindly?"
Marguerite did not reply. She wished she were home safe in her chamber, carrying the child of the lord she imagined Donskoy could become-surely would become, if she pleased him.
"Are you cold?" asked Ramus, putting his arm around her shoulder.
"No," she said, withdrawing herself. It was like dragging her body through water.
"Then let us sit quietly. The spider will come if we remain still,"
Marguerite nodded, staring at the fire, in time, she became hypnotized by the flame.
A tap on her shoulder broke the spell. Ramus pointed toward the corner of the cavern. A creature as large as a dog was dangling overhead, slowly descending. It was white and translucent, glowing like the moon. Ichor dripped from its jaws as its legs touched the cavern floor.
Without bothering to rise, Ramus withdrew a dagger from his belt. With a sharp flick of his wrist, the blade soared toward its mark, planting itself deep in the spider's abdomen. The creature faltered, curling its legs around the dripping wound, mouth working incessantly. And then it was still.
Marguerite scrambled to her feet. Her heart drummed in her chest.
"You see?" said Ramus calmly, slowly rising to stand. "A simple matter. Mow am I certain to whom the webs belong." He walked to the spider and withdrew his blade from its body. Two legs wiggled, a final gesture. The Vistana wiped his knife on a rag from his satchel and returned it to its sheath.
Marguerite suddenly recalled her quest. She let out her breath and approached the webs, giving ample berth to the spider's corpse. She extended a hand overhead but found she couldn't reach. Ramus stepped up behind her, standing so close she could feel the brush of his clothing, and he reached up to procure a strand. Marguerite took it from him shyly, tucking it into her pouch. Ramus doused the fire, and they went out of the cave together.
"I suppose I should thank you," said Marguerite.
"It would be appropriate, but I did not assist you to earn your gratitude."
"Nonetheless," said Marguerite, "I am grateful."
Ramus smiled. "Your thanks are accepted."
He whistled for his horse. When they reached the bottom of the slope, the beast was waiting. He returned his satchel to the saddle, then, as the woods were too dense to ride, they walked together. At length, they returned to the old vardo.
Marguerite stared at the firepit. The coals were still glowing, though Ramus had extinguished the flame before they left. She remembered the spirits, and could not resist voicing the question that teased her thoughts.
"While you played. ."
"Yes?"
"I observed something strange."
"Something strange?I' Ramus echoed. His voice was teasing, almost daring Marguerite to continue.
"Yes. Three women. Specters."
Ramus smiled. "Your sight is keen for a glorgia."
"Who were they? The spirits, I mean. And how did you summon them?"
Ramus walked to his horse and withdrew his violin from the saddle. "You know how,"