There was no way to decline that wouldn't have made him immediately suspicious. The Knights were celebrities and every young woman dreamed of dancing with one. The older Knights were holding themselves aloof, watching the cavorting of the young villagers with disdainful superiority, but this one was younger. Barely older than Dougal by the look of him. Other young women were staring enviously at her, clearly wondering what made her so lucky. She had no choice but to accept his offer.

     "I would be delighted," she said therefore. The Knight grinned and reached out his hand. She took it and he led her into the dancing space while the band started playing The Swans of Calotte; a slow, romantic tune that was normally kept until much later in the evening. Tala looked at them curiously and saw every member of the band staring at her with grins on their faces.

     "My name is Gareth," said the Knight as he held her close, her head on his shoulder; the correct position for this dance. He smelled of perfumed soap, which told Tala he'd bathed for the occasion. He'd come here looking for romance. "Gareth Mallory."

     "Tala Viddyr," Tala replied. She didn't know the steps to this dance and so she kept her eyes on his feet, moving hers to match his. She could feel his breath in her hair, which was rather distracting. "Just a simple farmer's daughter." Hopefully he'd lose interest in her and choose someone else to dance with.

     Instead, his arms tightened around her. He pulled her closer against him until she could feel the sharp roughness of his chain mail through the cotton of her dress. "You're Tala?" he said. "The one whose cottage burned down?"

     Tala's heart beat faster with trepidation. What else had the villagers told him about her? The villagers had no idea she was a witch, of course, but perhaps there were clues that a Knight would recognise and piece together. Even such a young Knight must have been tought about the people they were hunting. There would have been seminars, briefings. He would have been told about the subtle signs to look out for.

     "That's right," she said, trying to sound calm and nonchalant. "Drisco Tanner and his family took me in. I'm their adopted daughter."

     "They must be good people," Gareth said as he guided her through the slow moves of the dance. His hand moved to the nape of her neck and then to the back of her ear where his fingers began to gently stroke her skin, slowly and seductively.

     "I have a sweetheart," she said carefully. "I am betrothed to Dougal, the son of Drisco Tanner."

     "Of course," he said, and there was a touch of disappointment in his voice. His hand moved away from her neck to rest between her shoulder blades. "A woman as beautiful as you obviously must have a sweetheart."

     "I'm not that beautiful," Tala replied. She immediately cursed herself. Now he would think she was fishing for compliments. He would be encouraged.

     "Funny how the most beautiful women never think they're beautiful," said Gareth. His hand moved up a fraction. Not quite back to her neck but right at the top of her dress. It made her whole body tremble nervously, which he would probably interpret as excitement.

     "And yet," he added, "your cottage only burned down a few days ago, before which you lived alone, hardly interacting with anyone. Am I right in thinking that your betrothal to Dougal only happened after you moved into his house?"

     "Do you know everyone in this part of the world as well as you seem to know me?"

     "It's part of our job to interview people. To look for people who stand out. Who are a little bit different. That's one of the ways we spot witches, you see."

     "And did you find any?" asked Tala.

     "Nothing definitive, but we make a list of people we'd like to take a closer look at."

     "I hope I'm not on that list."

     Gareth laughed. "Don't worry, you're not. People are just talking about you, that's all. Because of what happened. I get the impression that not much happens in places like this, so when something does happen people talk about it."

     "It seems to me sometimes," said Tala drily, "that the one thing people like to talk about more than anything else is other people's misfortunes."

     Gareth laughed again. "I think you're right, but if you look at it from the right perspective, was it really a misfortune?"

     "I could have been killed," Tala told him stiffly.

     "Yes, of course," the Knight replied. "But you weren't. You weren't even hurt, and now you've got an adopted family and a prospective husband."

     "A what husband?"

     "I mean you'll be married soon. Instead of being alone and lonely, now you've got a whole family to keep you company, and with the prospect of children of your own before long. A few years from now you might think that your cottage burning down was the best thing that ever happened to you."

     "I would have married Dougal anyway, I think," Tala told him. "He asked me to this dance before my cottage burned down."

     "How did you meet, may I ask?"

     Tala felt herself close to panic. If he should ask Dougal the same question and he told the Knight how she faced down a whole pack of wolves... "It was a chance meeting," she said. "I teach a class of children here in town. I was on my way and I passed him on the road. I said hello. He said hello back, then we went our separate ways. I thought nothing more of it, but a few days later he showed up on my doorstep and asked me to the dance."

     "So you haven't known him very long, really. You were grateful to his family for taking you in. He proposed to you and you felt obliged to say yes."

     "I love him," said Tala hurriedly. Too hurriedly. She turned her face away from his in case he saw the lie in her eyes. "I love him. I'm going to marry him and there's no prospect of any dalliances with Knights, no matter how handsome and charming."

     She felt him stiffen against her. "I wasn't trying to proposition you," he said. "I apologise if I gave you that impression. Of course you love him. I don't doubt it. I only want this one dance with you and then we'll probably never have cause to speak to each other again."

     Now he was feeling hurt and resentful and that was bad. She didn't know if he was the type of man to seek revenge against someone who turned down his advances, but revenge would be so very easy for him to arrange. All he had to do was suggest to his Captain that he was suspicious of her and she would be subject to special testing. Invasive and demeaning to any woman but disastrous for her. She had to patch things up with him, just in case.

     "So how long have you been a Knight?" she asked.

     She felt him relax and his hand rose a fraction higher up her back. "Less than six months," he said. "My father was a Knight. Captain Matthias Mallory. You may have heard of him."

     "I heard very little of the outside world while living alone in my cottage," she replied.

     "Of course. Well, it's quite common for the sons of Knights to follow them into the calling. We hear the great tales of their exploits and it makes us want to achieve a few exploits of our own." He chuckled in amusement.

     "Exploits," said Tala carefully. "And have you achieved any exploits yet?"

     "Not so far, and maybe not ever, if I'm honest. The last witch caught by any Knight anywhere was two years ago. Lillian Appleby, caught by Beckett's men over Breswin way. I don't reckon there are very many witches left, and those there are left are hiding. For all intents and purposes the purge is over. The threat they posed to the Kingdom is ended. I hear there's talk of disbanding the Knights and returning us to the regular army. I'd become a common soldier. I'm not sure how I'd feel about that."

     "How old was she?"

     "Who?"

     "The witch. Lillian something. How old was she?"

     "I don't know. About your age, I think. Does it matter?"

     "Did you see her put to death?"

     "No. Beckett's men took care of it."

     "They locked her in the stocks and stoned her to death." said Tala. She was finding it hard to concentrate on the dance. Fortunately the moves were repetitive and she was able to continue them almost without thinking.

     "That's the prescribed procedure."

     "Procedure," said Tala. She tried to stop herself from speaking but it was as if her mouth had acquired a life of its own. She couldn't keep it from saying dangerous things. "The killing of a young woman called a procedure."

     "My father says that it's deliberate. Dehumanising. It keeps people from thinking too hard about what they're doing. They put a bag over her head so no-one can see the damage, and then it's just target practice for the villagers."

     "People who would have been her friends just a few days before."

     "They were shocked to find they'd had a witch living among them for several years, and who can blame them? Several misfortunes that had been afflicting the town suddenly made sense."

     "Misfortunes happen to everyone. I can testify to that. Can we be sure she was responsible?"

     "It's what witches do."

     "And can we be sure she was definitely a witch?"

     "She failed the test. She was a witch alright. There's no doubt."

     "Then I guess they don't feel bad about what they've done."

     "Well, you can't watch a young woman being put to death without feeling nothing, but the woman herself was the one to blame. She didn't have to turn to a life of evil."

     "Maybe she didn't have a choice. Maybe some people are just born witches. They're witches whether they want to be or not."

     "What a strange thought. What put that into your head?"

     Tala ignored the question. "If it came to it, if you found a witch..." Stop talking! she shouted at herself. You'll give yourself away! She couldn't help herself, though. There was something inside her that was screaming with outrage and would not be silenced. She could only listen helplessly as the dangerous words flowed from her mouth.

     "Could you bring a witch in to be executed?" she heard herself asking. "If you caught a witch, could you take her to her death? Some people might just let her go. Forget they'd ever seen her so they didn't have to live the rest of their life knowing they were responsible for her death."

     "And what about the evils the witch would carry out afterwards? The traitorous Knight would be responsible for every death she caused from that day onwards. Instead of being responsible for one death, they would be responsible for many."

     "Yes, of course," Tala replied. "It's just that, I can't help thinking about that young woman being pounded to death by rocks. Wouldn't it be kinder to just stab her through the heart?"

     "The method of execution was dictated by King Roderick," Gareth replied. "The father of our current King, good King Abulard. We do as the King commands. And I'm not at all sure this is an appropriate topic of conversation for what's supposed to be a romantic dance. We should talk  about something else, I think."

     "The dance is coming to an end anyway, I think," Tala replied.

     She was right. The band was playing the slow, final notes of the tune and then they lay down their instruments while the crowd applauded them. Tala and Gareth stepped back from each other and bowed, as did the other couples who'd been dancing. "Thank you for a lovely dance," said Tala. "I enjoyed it immensely."

     "So did I," the Knight replied. "Perhaps we'll have an opportunity for another dance before the evening is over."

     "I'd like that," Tala replied, although she had no intention of doing any such thing. She intended to spend the rest of the afternoon keeping out of sight until it was time to go home. Hopefully Gareth would find some airbrained beauty to dance with who would make him forget about Tala and the insanely foolish things she'd said to him. The urge to run as they parted and made their way from the dance area was almost too powerful to ignore, but by some superhuman effort she managed to keep to a dignified walk as if she had absolutely no reason to be afraid.

     She made her way to the refreshment tent where she bought a large slice of pie and a glass of cider, her hand shaking as she handed across the copper coins. The woman behind the table grinned with amusement to see it. "He is handsome, isn't he?" she said. "What young lady's heart wouldn't beat nineteen to the dozen? Maybe you're betrothed to the wrong young man."

     "Maybe," said Tala, just for something to say. They she went back to the crowd until she could find a way to slip quietly away without being seen.