Awareness came back slowly, and not very pleasantly. First were all the aches and twinges, then the dizziness, and last the sensation of movement. Before I even opened my eyes I realized that once again I was on a horse, clasped upright by an arm. The Marquis again? Memories came flooding back--the dungeon, the Baron's horrible promise, then the knife and Shevraeth's comment about timing. The Marquis had saved me, with about the closest timing in history, from a thoroughly nasty fate. Relief was my foremost emotion, then gratitude, and then a residual embarrassment that I didn't understand and instantly dismissed. He had saved my life, and I owed him my thanks. I opened my eyes, squinting against bright sunlight, and turned my head, words forming only to vanish when I looked up into an unfamiliar face. I closed my eyes again, completely confused. Had I dreamed it all, then? Except--where was I, and with whom?