alehouses.
No less by our favorite cyprians. I had at first balked at the notion of purchasing a woman’s favors, but I had met no one to satisfy the natural longings of a healthy young man, nor any desire to take that path some of our fellow students chose, and consequently spent long months frustrated. I had thought to meet some city girl, but when we were allowed to roam free, I had discovered few willing to engage themselves with a man destined to depart ere long. We Rememberers, I found, had a reputation for unfaithfulness-it was a hazard of our calling that we must go awandering as Storymen; it rendered us poor prospects for respectable young women, who turned cold faces to our blandishments and whose parents ofttimes threatened a hotter reception. So Cleton had told me of Allya’s house, recommended him by no less an authority than his father, and we had made ourselves known there. Thais was my chosen companion; Vaera, Cleton’s. They were both our senior by several years (which rendered them all the more attractive in our estimation, and we the more sophisticated) and skilled in their chosen calling.
So it was in a mood of cheerful optimism that we made our way into the city. We were not required to return to the College until dawn, a concession to the Sastaine festival and the apparent cessation of the Kho’rabi attacks, and we were determined to make the most of such freedom.
We had decided to investigate the fair set up in the central plaza. There was dancing, we understood, and gaming stalls, acrobats, and jugglers, even a dancing bear from the highlands of Kellambek. That, we felt, should carry us through to dusk, when we would eat and afterward visit our cyprian mistresses. It was a satisfying prospect, and after quenching our thirst we strolled link-armed to the plaza.
That errant gift of our talent that enabled us to drink close to excess without suffering the consequences afflicting ordinary folk served us well that day. We were neither of us drunkards (as some Rememberers become), but we soon enough found a beer stall where we drank some more. We were happy, somewhat heady, and bent on taking our fill of pleasure: we emptied our cups and joined the dancers. We tried our luck at toss-penny and won as much we lost. At skittles we each won tokens in Durbrecht’s colors that we pinned with mock solemnity to one another’s tunics, delivering proud accolades to our undoubted skill. We ate skewers of charcoal-roasted meat of indeterminate origin and washed it down with more ale. We listened to a balladeer, accompanied by a dwarf who played the kithara rather well, sing songs of love thwarted and requited.
Finally, as dusk turned into night, we wandered away, our bellies pleasantly awash with ale and now in need of more solid sustenance.
There was an eating house not far distant that was a favorite of we students. The fare was plain, but good, and not expensive: we went there.
The streets were still crowded when we emerged. I remember the moon stood huge overhead, like a great round of butter, and stars spangled the velvet blue of the sky. Moonlight and lanterns rendered the streets bright. They were loud with laughter and music It seemed all Durbrecht was abroad this night.
As we walked toward Allya’s, I espied a woman I took at first to be a cyprian, but then, as she came within the compass of a tavern’s light, I saw she wore the blue gown of the sorcerers. I halted in my tracks, staring, for I had never seen so beautiful a being. This, I know, was a personal reaction, some individual chemistry sparking within me so that my mouth gaped open and I clutched at Cleton’s sleeve, pointing dumbstruck. I was rooted where I stood. My friend did not see her through my eyes, for he only shrugged and said, “Not bad, but Thais awaits you, and you’ll have little luck with that one.”
Indeed, it did seem she hurried. Likely she took this road for a shortcut. I said, “Cleton, I am in love.”
I jested, then. I held no hope it should go further; none that I might effect a meeting. Thais did, indeed, await me.
But … as she passed into brighter light, I saw the long spillage of her hair burn like molten metal, red and gold, and that her face was a pale oval, her mouth wide, her lips full and very red, as if the blood ran hot there. I thought of cooling that heat with my kisses. I saw that her figure was slim, yet deliciously rounded, and that her eyes were huge and as green as the sea at that moment just before the sun climbs above the horizon. I saw that she was blind and used her talent for sight. I cursed myself for a clumsy, tongue-tied oaf as I struggled for some excuse to approach her, some words that should persuade her to linger awhile, to agree to an assignation.
All I found was, again, “I am in love.”
I did not then know I spoke the truth. I gaped; I stood as Cleton laughed and clapped my shoulder and said, “Come on. There’s surer target for your love not far.”
I grunted, or moaned, and allowed him to push me a faltering step onward, he still laughing, I still staring.
Then the God, or fate, or whatever powers command our destinies, took a hand. Three mariners- westcoasters by their look, come trading down the Treppanek, and rough as all their kind-emerged from a tavern ahead of my desire’s quarry. They were in their cups.
They spied her and called for her to join them. She answered mildly that she could not, for she went about the business of her College and must not delay. They took this for no answer at all and surrounded her, blocking her path, and their comments grew bawdy. They would not let her pass. She asked they leave her be, and they refused. I took a step toward them and looked to Cleton for support. He shrugged and said that she was a mage and so quite capable of defending herself, and that we were forbidden-on pain of Ardyon’s wrath-to brawl. I thought that likely she was under some similar stricture; certainly I believed that I sensed in her a reluctance to use her magic against men. I stood a moment longer. The westcoasters were plucking at her gown now. One touched her magnificent hair.
That was enough for me: I strode toward them.
The sailors were big men and wore long knives sheathed on their belts. Their eyes were reddened and their faces flushed with ale. Their breath smelled. I suppose mine did, but theirs was offensive. I suggested-politely-that they find some more amenable woman, indicating the green lanterns strung all along the street. They laughed and cursed and told me I should find my own doxy; that this beauty was theirs.
I ignored their taunts and offered her my arm. I said, “Shall I escort you to your College?”
She turned her face toward me and smiled, but before she had opportunity to speak, a sailor set a rough hand on my shoulder and said, “Go your way, boy. Find your own whore.”
He pushed me back. That was too much: I took hold of his wrist and spun around, driving an elbow into his ribs. It was as Keran had taught me-but those lessons were in the gymnasium, and our blows were halted short of harm there. I was angry now. No: I was incensed. I felt bone break and heard the man yelp. I turned more, twisting his arm so that he fell unbalanced, the limb I clutched dislocating at the shoulder. He screamed, and I experienced a savage satisfaction. I let him go, seeing his swarthy face paled, his mouth hung open in surprise and discomfort. His companions drew their knives.
They were experienced: they crouched, the blades thrust forward, edges uppermost. One said, “You pay for that, boy.” The other, “I’ll have your heart for a purse.” They moved apart, intent on attacking me from both sides.
I heard Cleton say, “Best take your friend and go. Else we must hurt you.”
Both sailors laughed, an ugly sound. Cleton moved to my side, confronting one of them. His eyes were pale and cold, the blue of a winter moon. He was smiling.
The woman said, “For the God’s sake, stop!”
A sailor answered, “When this is done, I’ll stopper you, my lovely.”
He lunged at me as the sentence ended. I took a pace back, letting the blade slice air a finger’s width before my belly, and then a pace forward. I set a hand about his wrist and drove my other, flat-palmed, against his elbow. At the same time I kicked him hard in the knee. I felt his elbow tear as he fell. His scream was shrill; the knife dropped from his grasp. I kicked him again before he could rise, hard, just below the buckle of his wide belt. He made a choking sound and began to vomit.
I turned to see Cleton dispatch the other with a hand’s edge delivered sharp against the westcoaster’s neck. The man’s eyes bulged, his mouth springing wide. Then both eyes and mouth closed as his chin struck the cobbles. A thread of blood dribbled from between his lips.
The man I had first struck was staring at us. His right arm hung loose, his left was pressed against his broken rib. I asked, “You’d have more?” He shook his head, eyes wide.
Cleton said, “Keran would be proud of us.”
I thought he might; and that Ardyon would be only angry. I glanced about, but saw no one from the College,
