The Rogue

Tayend smiled crookedly. “Even so, I think I’ve worked out some things,” he said. “How about I tell you what I’ve guessed and you tell me if I’m right.” Popping food into his mouth, Tayend chewed and regarded Dannyl expectantly.

Dannyl shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Tayend swallowed, drank a mouthful of water, then cleared his throat. “I’ve worked out that you and I are no longer a couple.”

Surprise was followed by a flush of guilt. Dannyl forced himself to meet Tayend’s eyes. Tayend’s gaze was steady.

“I guess not,” Dannyl replied. Rather lamely, he added silently.

“I worked that out when you put me in the guest rooms,” Tayend added. “And don’t tell me it would have caused a scandal if I’d slept in your bed. The Sachakans knew all about us before you got here.” He speared another portion off his plate.

Dannyl coughed in protest. “They might still have disapproved – enough to demand we be replaced, or to refuse to deal with us.”

“There’s nothing to make deals over. We have no work to do. They don’t need to trade with our countries. Having us here is a gesture of goodwill, nothing more. Other than that, our value to the Sachakans is merely as a novelty or entertainment. I suppose it has taken you longer to work this out.” Tayend waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve also worked out that Achati is a lad, and rather fancies you.” His eyes narrowed. “I haven’t quite worked out if you fancy him in return.”

Once again, Dannyl felt his face warming, but this time not out of guilt.

“Achati is a friend,” he said.

“Your only friend among the Sachakans,” Tayend continued, pointing his knife at Dannyl for emphasis. “You won’t be able to string him along forever. What are you going to do when he gets sick of waiting? He doesn’t seem the sort of man I’d want to make angry.”

Dannyl opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. “You once would have said that about me,” he managed.

Tayend smiled. “Then I got to know you, and you’re not at all scary. Sometimes you’re even a little pathetic, always worried about what people think, burying yourself in your research to make yourself feel worthy.”

“It’s important research!” Dannyl objected.

“Oh. Yes. Very important. More important than me.”

“You were interested in it too, once. As soon as it stopped being about roaming around having adventures and started being about hard work, you didn’t care for it any more.”

Tayend’s gaze flashed with anger, but then he hesitated, and looked away. “I suppose it must look that way. To me it felt like I had nothing more to contribute. The writing part was always yours. Once I was out of the Grand Library, I was a poor excuse for a scholar.”

Indignation faded at Tayend’s assessment of himself. “You were never a poor excuse for a scholar,” Dannyl told him. “If I had known you were still interested in the research, I would have found something, some way, for you to stay involved.”

Tayend looked up and frowned. “I thought you were keeping me out. Going to Sachaka without me confirmed it.”

“It was … I believed it was dangerous here for you.”

“You certainly had me worried. When my king approved of my proposal to be the first Elyne Ambassador in Sachaka I was sure I had taken on something much more dangerous than this has turned out to be, so far.”

“How did you convince him?”

“I didn’t. Others did.” Tayend shrugged. “It seems everyone thought it was a great idea to send someone here now that Kyralia had done so, but nobody was stupid enough to suggest it in case they were given the job.”

“Who supported you?” Dannyl asked, mainly out of curiosity.

Tayend smiled. “That would be telling.” He looked down at his plate. “We should eat or the food will go cold.”

Dannyl snorted softly. “Elynes and their convoluted politics.”

“We are good at it – and it has been of benefit here. I might even be able to keep you out of trouble.”

Returning to his half-eaten meal, Dannyl considered what his former lover had said. “So did you come all this way only to see what I was up to?”

Tayend’s eyes narrowed again. He didn’t answer immediately, instead chewing thoughtfully. “No,” he said eventually. “When you left, you made me see that I was bored. Turns out you are right: having a purpose does make life more interesting.”

“And that purpose is?”

Tayend was chewing again.

Being the first Elyne Ambassador in Sachaka, Dannyl answered. He had to admit, he was impressed at Tayend’s daring, and the flamboyant man was well suited to the job. He did have a good grasp of politics – even if he did often choose to ignore social taboos and traditions – and he was very perceptive about people.

But I hope not too perceptive, when it comes to Achati.

Dinner with Naki and her father was always filled with long silences. Lord Leiden always asked how their studies were going, and Naki’s answers were usually polite but short. He also enquired after Lilia’s family, but she did not see them often so there was not much to tell him, and he did not seem that interested in her answers anyway.

This time, Lilia felt as if the dinner had stretched on for hours longer than usual, and the pretence of interest for the sake of manners had started to irritate her. Even the excellent food did not make up for the boredom. She wasn’t sure if it was the long days of anticipation that had made her impatient to be alone with Naki, or if she was picking up on Naki’s mood.

Her friend was definitely in an odd frame of mind. Naki’s answers to her father’s questions had been shorter than usual – verging on snarly. At one point she’d asked him about someone and he’d winced, frowned at her disapprovingly, and changed the subject. To Lilia, however, she was overtly friendly, leaning over and patting her on the leg, winking at her or pulling faces. Lilia was relieved when the meal had finally ended.

Naki led her upstairs to her bedroom as usual. As soon as the door closed, Naki began pacing and broke out into a tirade of curses unlike anything Lilia had heard since one of her visits to the wharves in her childhood.

“What’s wrong?” Lilia asked.

Naki sighed and turned to her. “I can’t tell you the details. All I can say is that he found out about a little project I’ve had going on the side, and to punish me he took something – no, he stole something – from me.” She clenched her fists and stalked to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. Looking up at Lilia, her expression changed to a forlorn one. “You know, he only gives me enough money to pay for what I need at the University. If I want to have any fun I have to find some other way to pay for it. And now I don’t have such a way.”

The brazier house. The wine she sneaks into the Guild. She’s always paid for it. I haven’t paid for anything. Lilia felt a pang of guilt. She moved over to the bed and sat down beside her friend.

“What about the allowance we get?”

Naki grimaced. “You get it; I don’t. Because I’m from one of the Houses I don’t get anything. My family is supposed to pay me an allowance instead.”

“You’ve always paid for things,” Lilia began. “I should—”

“No!” Naki headed her off. “Don’t go offering to pay for my little indulgences.”

“Our indulgences,” Lilia corrected. “At least let me pay for them until you … find another way to earn some money. It would be nice to be able to spoil you for a while.”

Naki gazed at Lilia in surprise, then her lips curled in a wide smile. “Oh, Lilia. You are so good.” She wrapped