Gnomics, 33 Sunset was glowing behind his back when Herewiss woke up. He opened his eyes on a wide barren vista of earth and scattered brush, streaked with crimson light and long shadows. He stretched, and found that he ached all over. It wasn’t all backlash; some of it was the pain of having been tied in the saddle and taken a great distance at speed. “Good evening,” someone said to him. He didn’t recognize the voice, a deep, gentle one. Then as he turned his head, the memories snapped back into place. The new person, the woman. This must be her. Looking up at her, Herewiss’s first impression was of large, deep-set hazel eyes that lingered on him in leisurely appraisal, and didn’t shift away when he returned the glance. And hands: long, strong-fingered hands, prominently veined, incongruously attached to little fragile bird-boned wrists and too-slender arms. She was very slim and long-limbed, wearing with faint unease a body that didn’t seem to have finished adolescence yet.
