nor any watchmen. There were only drinkers and doormen, staring admiringly. Someone called, “Well done, lads.”
A serving woman said, “That was bravely fought.”
I looked at the woman I had sought to defend and said, “My name is Daviot. I am a student in the College of the Mnemonikos.”
She said, “My thanks for your gallantry, Daviot.”
Her voice was musical, almost husky. I stared at her. I suppose I preened; certainly I basked in what I thought must be her admiration. I asked, “And your name?”
She said, “Rwyan,” and touched her gown. “I am with the Sorcerous College, as you can see.”
I said, softly, “Rwyan.”
I had jested before, but I fell truly in love at that moment.
We looked at one another. I thought her sightless eyes fathomless as the ocean. I wanted to drown in them. I willed her to share my feelings. She said, “I had best be on my way.”
I gasped. She could not go now! Surely not. I said, “Shall I escort you?”
Rwyan shook her head and smiled. “I think I shall be safe enough now,” she said, and gestured at the green lanterns. “And you’ve doubtless business here.”
I blushed then and began to deny the obvious. Then halted, for I had no wish to lie to her. There seemed such a purity to her blind gaze, I knew she would recognize dissemblance. There seemed to me no disapproval in her words, or face, or stance; instead, a great understanding. I thought her likely wiser than me. I shrugged and grinned.
“I’ve duties to attend,” she said.
Hopefully, I asked, “You’ll not take wine with me?” Gestured at the now-impatient Cleton and added, “With us?”
I wanted her to know I should sooner spend time in her company than go on to my destination.
She said, “Again, my thanks-but, no. I must not linger.”
I said, “I’ll take you to the street’s end, at least. Lest you be molested again.”
She indicated the street with a toss of her head that set lantern light to dancing in her hair like witchfire, entrancing. It was not so far, her smile said. Aloud she said, “I think your friend grows impatient. And after so brave a show, I think I shall be safe. Fare you well.”
She moved a step away, and I aped the mariners: I touched her sleeve, not wanting her to go.
“When?” I mumbled, disconcerted.
“When what?” she asked.
“Shall I see you again?”
She smiled and said, “I do not know.”
I gathered up my disordered thoughts as best I could; forced my tongue to some semblance of coherence. “I must,” I said. “See you again, I mean. I cannot lose you now.”
“Lose me?” She laughed. No bells, no kithara, no harp could sound so wondrous. “How shall you lose me? Do you own me, then?”
“No,” I said swiftly, lest she think me no better than some amorous street brawler. “But to know you are here, in Durbrecht, and never see you again-that should be torture.”
“A true Storyman,” she murmured. “Your tongue drips silver.”
There was such humor in her voice, I could not help but smile. I shook my head and said, “Words are too poor a coin to pay you tribute, Rwyan, but all I have.
She paused, her face become a moment pensive, then ducked her head. I think the Sky Lords might have landed on the city then and I not noticed. I think had a fallen foe arisen to put his knife in my back, I should not have noticed.
“My College allows me no more time than does yours you,” she said, “but when we’ve such freedom … Do you know a tavern called the Golden Apple?”
I said, “No, but I shall find it. When?”
“When next we’re allowed,” she said. “I can offer you no more.”
“It’s enough,” I said. “I shall be in the Golden Apple when next I may. I shall haunt it. They shall think me an alehound. I’ll take a room there.”
“Then perhaps I shall find you there,” she said. “But now, truly, farewell.”
Her smile lit the street bright as that Sastaine day’s sun. I bowed extravagantly and heard her laugh again. I stood watching until she had reached the end of the street and was lost to my enraptured sight. She did not look back, but I thought perhaps her sorcerous talent told her I gazed after her. I hoped it did.
“By the God,” said Cleton, “I’ve seen puppies with that same expression.”
“I’m in love,” I said. “Truly.”
“She was pretty enough, I suppose,” he said, “but gone now. And none too easy to find again. So-shall you stand here until the watchmen come to take us in disgrace back to the College? Or find shelter with a more available mistress?”
I had forgotten the sailors. When I looked, they were huddled against the wall of a tavern, drunkenly attempting to mend their injuries. A doorman followed my glance and called, “No need to fear the watchmen, lads. These sots will not lay complaint against you.”
He emphasized his assurance with a menacing swing of his cudgel and a fierce leer in the direction of the wounded men. The westcoasters took the hint and shook their heads. Cleton and I called thanks and went to Allya’s house.
I felt somewhat guilty as we entered and our cyprians flew into our arms. I thought of Rwyan, but then Thais pressed her lips to mine and promised unmentionable delights in honor of the day. I was but eighteen, and the fight had warmed my blood: I set unspoken promise aside and looked to the reality of the woman in my arms.
But all the time I lay with Thais, I saw Rwyan’s face.
I had not thought ever to see my friendship with Cleton weakened, but in the months that followed my first meeting with Rwyan it was tested. That it did not break was a mark of its depth, of the regard we felt for one another. Of the two of us, I was the milder, the more malleable-save in those matters I felt instinctively demanded greater investigation. It was Cleton, more often than not, who led me into our escapades, but I who earned the reputation of rebel. Indeed, had I not demonstrated such talent for our art-so Decius once advised me-I should have been expelled. I could not blindly accept: I found a need to question that ofttimes drove my tutors close to distraction.
I argued that we had driven the Ahn from their ancestral homeland and thus must surely accept some measure of blame for the Sky Lords. I wondered if we might not reach some accommodation with them, and thus end their attacks. These arguments I lost, for I could not say
It became a small bone of contention betwixt Cleton and I, one that we gnawed on in our chamber, and over ale. An aeldor’s son, he was raised to his father’s code, taught from infancy that the Sky Lords were our implacable enemies, that we or they must one day stand victorious. I could not see how we might hope to defeat them, or they to conquer us, and began to perceive both Dhar and Ahn as locked in an endless cycle of bloody war. Such arguments we customarily agreed were drawn, and left them. I believe Cleton knew himself close to losing his temper at such times and held himself back for fear of friendship’s destruction. He was a good man.
Of my burgeoning fascination with the Changed, we spoke not at all. Cleton disapproved and elected to remain silent on that matter, whilst I spent longer and longer in conversation with Urt, which Cleton could simply not understand. He saw me-so he admitted in an unguarded moment-akin to a man overly fond of a pet hound, pointlessly discoursing with the beast, which had nothing of interest to offer in return save its mindless devotion. I knew him to be wrong, for Urt, albeit descended from canine stock, was no mindless creature but, I came to learn, as intelligent as most men. From him (even though he still held much back) I gleaned much knowledge of the
