Kyra stepped across the room to stand with her hus band. 'You said you had news,' she said coolly.
The older man downed the mug of ale in one long draught. 'Good for what ails you,' he said. Then he laughed. 'Hey, I made a joke. 'Good for what ail's you.' Get it?'
'The news?' asked Seron.
'Of course. You must be anxious to hear it. It's obviously clear,' he added gesturing at their home, 'that you're in need of glad tidings. Well,' he continued, 'one day, lo and behold, I received a request for twenty paintings from a wealthy man who wanted to decorate his new home with an artistic touch. Naturally, he didn't want to pay very much, but we managed to settle on a fair price. Of course, I never told him that I had a brother who was a painter. Nor did I tell him that this brother of mine had a hut overflowing with his unsold works of art.'
'At what price did you propose this sale of my paintings?' asked Seron.
'Never mind the price,' Cheb said with a wave of his hand. 'It isn't important. All you need to know is that I will take twenty of your paintings — of my choosing — and give you five percent of everything I make.'
Seron physically flinched at his brother's words. Though he could almost feel the knife wound of betrayal, he fought his temper and quietly said, 'Forgive me if I choose to ignore this opportunity. I know how you made your fortune — buying unsold goods at a fraction of their cost in one city and then selling them at a generous markup somewhere else. You're entitled to your profits, but five percent of twenty paintings means I'm giving nineteen away for free. No, thank you.'
'Come now,' said Cheb. 'Don't be foolish. This is money in your pocket. Why hesitate? You can't sell this stuff, anyway. Might as well let me take it off your hands.'
Seron was silent. He had turned away to look out the window, then glanced back at Kyra. 'What do you think?' he asked.
'I say no,' she said with firm resolution. 'Someday soon,' she added pointedly, following his gaze into the dark sky, 'your paintings — all of them — will be worth a great deal more.'
'You have your answer,' said Seron to his brother.
'This is ridiculous,' insisted Cheb. 'I found a willing buyer and you turn me down. But I'll be magnanimous. I'll raise the offer to a full ten percent. Now what do you say?'
'No,' Seron answered emphatically. 'You'd best be on your way,' he added, afraid that his rage was beginning to break through his calm exterior.
The two brothers glared at each other. Cheb could not understand such an empty-headed artist, while Seron knew, from sad experience, that he could never explain himself to such a money-hungry man.
'Here, take a candle,' offered Kyra. 'You can light one of our torches outside and use it to find your way along the path.'
Seron led the grumbling Cheb to the door. 'If you hurry,' he said, 'you'll still find a bed at the Sea Master Inn. Tell the owner that I sent you. He knows me.'
Cheb was already out the door, lighting his torch, when he realized he'd left his satchel in the hut. He rushed back in with the torch aflame and reached for the bag on the floor by the chair.
At the same time, Kyra said, 'Here, let me help you.'
They accidentally collided while both reached for the satchel, and Cheb lost his balance. Falling over backward, the torch went flying out of his grasp.
The burning torch landed in the comer of the hut, right in the middle of Seron's paints. They exploded in a ball of bright orange flame!
Cheb quickly scrambled to his feet. 'Run for your lives!' he cried. He snatched up his satchel and ran out the door without ever looking back.
'Get out! Save yourself!' Seron shouted to his wife, who was trying to drag the heavy wooden crate out from beneath the bed.
'I'm not leaving without your painting,' she cried. The fire quickly spread far beyond the comer of the hut. Soon, the bed and all the rest of their furniture were burning. Two of the walls were aflame, as was part of the roof; a heavy, deadly smoke filled their one-room home.
Seron grabbed his wife around the waist and hauled her to her feet. Both of them were coughing, their eyes were tearing, and their skin was beginning to blister. The fire snapped at the edges of their clothing as he carried his wife to the door of the hut and threw her onto the soft grass outside the door.
But he didn't follow her out into the safety of the night. Instead, he rushed back into the burning hut, diving to the floor next to the bed. The wooden crate was beginning to char, but he knew there was still time; the painting inside had not yet been damaged. He hauled the crate out from beneath the bed and lifted it. The door was just a few yards away…
Though the doorway was open, the smoke and flames were too thick for Kyra to see inside the hut. 'Forget the painting!' she screamed. 'Seron! Get out of there! Hurry!' she begged.
The roof caved in. The hut collapsed. Seron was buried in an avalanche of fire, and Kyra gave out an anguished cry of pain that stretched on for minutes. When there was nothing left inside her, she crumpled to the dew-wet grass.
Kyra didn't move. There was no reason. Much later, in the darkest hour of the night, a voice whispered in her ear…
'Am I late?'
At first, Kyra was startled. She lifted her head and saw Tosch. The familiar sight of the brass dragon set Kyra crying all over again. He did his best to comfort her, nestling her frail, shivering frame between his right wing and his body. But he couldn't see what was so upsetting.
As best she could, she told Tosch what had happened. Then she wept throughout the rest of the night. Finally, just before dawn, Kyra fell into an exhausted sleep. The dragon sighed. The sun would be coming up soon — and he supposed he had better take her with him. There was nothing for Kyra here. He lifted her onto his back and then gently took wing.
Tosch watched a female brass dragon sailing in small, lazy circles overhead. Without thinking, he turned his good profile in her direction.
'I don't think I ever told you, but I do like Palanthas,' Kyra announced from her seat on a nearby tree stump.
Tosch nodded absently, glancing down at the blue, yellow, and orange clothes Kyra was sewing together for him. 'When will my new cape be finished?' he asked.
'I told you it would take six months,' she said. 'It's only been four.'
'You know only humans count time,' he replied with a shrug of his gigantic shoulders. 'Has it really been four months?'
'I can't quite believe it, either,' she said in an aching, hollow voice.
'Ah, you seem so… lonely, Kyra. Perhaps you should marry again.'
'No!' she said emphatically. A moment later, a sad smile washed over her face. 'I know you mean well,' she said, 'but I could never love another man after Seron. We were best friends as well as lovers. We finished each other's thoughts, laughed at each other's jokes.' She closed her eyes. 'I can't sleep without him. I reach for him at night,' she softly admitted, and then rubbed her eyes open. 'I saw you preening for that female up there,' she gestured with a wan smile on her face, 'and my first thought was that I wanted to tell Seron that you hadn't changed a bit.'
'Please don't point,' he said, embarrassed. 'She'll know that we're talking about her.'
Kyra lowered her hand. 'Sorry,' she said. 'Apology accepted,' he said indulgently. She reached out and stroked his head the way she used to back in the old days. He smiled.
Kyra had spent all her waking hours — and many of her sleeping hours, as well — reliving her life with Seron. Over and over again, every conversation, every hug, every night of passion played in her mind. She remembered he had always wanted her to do something more with her life. He had said she was capable of doing anything she set her mind to. The only thing she had set her mind to, though, was loving him. Shouldn't that have been enough?
He had tried so hard for her. He never brought home a pocketful of money, but he always brought home kindness, laughter, and a sweetness of spirit. If he had wanted her to accomplish more with her life, why couldn't she try to do that for him now?
She laughed at herself. He would have said, 'Don't do it for ME, do it for YOU!'
