Danivon took a deep breath. “I didn’t expect to hear anything about old people, no.” He sat beside them distractedly, paying no attention to the plates they were passing about. “How do we find out more about these dragons?”
“We’ll set up the sideshow on the landing float,” repeated Fringe, watching Danivon from beneath her lashes. “People will see us from these porches and come down to see what we’re doing, and we can ask about dragons. That was the idea, after all, wasn’t it?”
Danivon looked up distractedly. “I suppose that was the idea, yes,” he grunted.
“Evening? Morning?” Curvis demanded, annoyed by Danivon’s distractions.
“Not enough light this evening, it’s already getting dim. We’ll wait for daylight. Tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow,” agreed Fringe thankfully. She longed for an evening spent alone, now that the crowded voyage was over. She would bathe, lengthily. She would luxuriate in quiet. She would wash her hair!
Will you now? her conscience demanded. And what about the transmitter cube Boarmus gave you for Danivon?
This fretted her, making her sorry she had remembered it. Danivon was sharing a room with Curvis, however, so she couldn’t simply take it to him. But soon they would go upriver in a boat no less crowded than the Curward vessel had been. No privacy there!
She dithered, wondering how to get him alone without being obvious about it. Well, shit, he was an Enforcer and so was she! There were all those covert Enforcer signals she had learned and almost never used. All she had to do was wait until Curvis was out of the room.
Though Curvis seemed determined not to leave the room. He stuck to Danivon like glue. When he did leave at last, Danivon was right behind him.
“Danivon,” Fringe said, getting him to turn in the doorway. “Sleep well.” She made the surreptitious gesture that requested a private meeting.
“Good night,” he answered absently, eyes on her hands, his surprise betrayed by one soaring eyebrow.
Well, so much for secret signals, she reflected sourly. Probably he hadn’t used the damned signals any oftener than she had. Anyone watching his face would have wondered what was going on. She turned, then blushed to find Nela’s speculative eyes upon her.
The tap at her door came late.
“You wanted to see me?” he said softly when she let him in, casting a quick look around the room to see if they were alone.
She had looked over the room as best she could, without obviously searching it, but there was no way to tell for sure that there weren’t spy eyes watching. So, if she were to pass the cube along secretly, as Boarmus had ordered, it would have to be done in the guise of something else. She’d planned the most misleading thing she could think of: an embrace, a hug, maybe even with some kissing and fondling.
“I thought it was time we got to know one another better,” she said throatily, purposefully seductive.
His mouth fell open. “Well.” He stared for a moment, then grinned. “What took you so long, Fringe Owldark?”
She moved toward the chair by the window, barely able to keep herself from snarling at him. The monstrous ego of the man! She took a deep breath and turned, ready to utter the next flirtatious phrase she’d rehearsed, only to find herself against him, her chin pressed into his chest. She tried to step back, but his arms were around her. She started to say something, but his lips were on hers. She had planned on this happening, but not so quickly….
Everything inside her loosened in an unfamiliar way and she couldn’t remember what she’d been going to say. He half dragged, half carried her toward the bed and they fell onto it together, arms and legs already entwined, tangled in their clothing, she dizzy, trying to think of words that would get her out of this, he busy finding flesh to touch. When she thought of something at last, his mouth was still on hers; she couldn’t breathe, then didn’t want to breathe.
After which she forgot about breathing or speaking or doing anything. Anything that needed doing was doing itself. The room was washed by dim ripples of torchlight reflected from the water outside. The only sounds she could hear were the cry of a night bird, the sob of her own breath, the murmur of Danivon’s voice saying not-quite words. Then everything went to pieces in mirrorlike shards, inside, outside, the sky breaking apart, her thought shattering into splinters that didn’t connect to anything. He said something urgently, but she couldn’t tell what it was. The room rocked on the wavelets, gently, as though it floated.
After a long, quiet time, she opened her eyes and stared through the window at the stars, half in wonder, half in anger. She’d planned this! She’d planned to do this, well, not exactly this, but something like this. But she hadn’t planned … hadn’t planned for the sky to come apart. Damn it. Why had that had to happen! Why had she done it? Why had she thought she could pretend … then pretend she hadn’t?
Angry tears filled her eyes, and she wiped the wetness away with one hand as she reached for her pack with the other, feeling automatically for the comb she’d made sure was there on top, next to the cube Boarmus had given her. Her hand came out, the cube hidden in her palm, the comb in her fingers.
“Danivon,” she said huskily, her voice seeming to come from some unfamiliar place inside her.
“Fringe,” he whispered, inviting her, drawing the word out, making a caress of it.
She refused to understand him as she put her lips against his ear. “Boarmus gave me a message for you.”
He started, but she held him down with her full weight, keeping him from moving, afraid that if he moved …
“Secret, Danivon. He believes he’s being watched. Maybe we are. The message is here in my hand. Take it. Don’t examine it until you’re sure you’re alone, where no
