“And ale, dear Maeve,” the magician said, still smiling widely, apparently unwilling to be put off so easily. “Pray thee, do not forget the ale. Now,” he went on thoughtfully, looking around, “the real question is, which tavern would be the best for—”
“We didn’t come here so that you could drink ale and ogle barmaids, Chall,” she growled. “You know that.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, his voice whiny, “just a little ogle?” He must have seen some of her disapproval in her stare—hard not to as she was scowling just about as hard as she could—for he heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine, no ogling at all, though it’s a shame, if you ask me, to leave such beauty unappreciated.”
“No one did ask you.”
He shook his head sadly. “No, no I suppose they didn’t and that should serve as proof enough that the world is a cruel, ignorant place. Anyway, you shall have your way—we will only make a quick trip into a tavern, just a stop off, an opportunity to catch our breaths, you might say, and…perhaps to slake our thirsts.”
“One more word from you about stopping by a tavern,” she warned, “and I’ll be slaking my thirst for blood, you understand?”
“Oh, come now, Mae,” he said, smiling once more. “People change—you are no longer the cold-blooded, assassin-beauty which sent so many fantasizing men to bed in a mixture of fear and admiration. Why, I’m quite certain you do not even have a knife—” He cut off as she produced two knives from inside her dress, not quite as quick as she once might have, perhaps, but pretty quick just the same.
“People don’t change that much, Chall,” she said.
He moaned. “Very well, Maeve—you make a particularly…sharp point. Why, I certainly would not wish to feel the edge of your anger, for it is both sharp and cutting and—”
“One more jibe, Chall,” she said, “and I’ll show you just how cutting it can be.”
He sighed again. “You really do have a way of taking all the fun out of being hunted by the entire realm and throwing ourselves into even greater peril, you know that?”
“The gods weep.”
“Well,” he said dryly, “if they don’t, they most certainly should. Anyway, what’s your plan then? I suppose go hunting for our erstwhile companion, perhaps stop by some establishments—I said establishments, damn you, not taverns—and introduce ourselves, tell them who we are and who we search for?” He gave a humorless laugh. “Perhaps we could even lay odds on how long it will take someone to call the guard and how long after that it will take before our execution is scheduled. Not long, I’d wager. Not long at all.”
“I’m not stupid, Chall,” she said.
“Could have fooled—”
“And while my mind isn’t the greatest—time, the bastard, has seen to that—I’m still not quite ready to part with it, and the rest of my head, quite yet. Anyway, he shouldn’t be so hard to find.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Maeve,” Chall said. “You’ve got a wonderful head. At least, parts of it. Why, there’s a spot just there, right above your hairline, where it hasn’t gone to gray yet and—”
“I will stab you, Chall.”
“Very well. All I mean is, I’m not entirely certain we should have come here in the first place. Why bother? There’s a good chance he isn’t even here anyway. What, you said you heard that how long ago? Five years? He could be anywhere. For all we know, they’ve set up a convent for all the world’s pompous assholes in some far away country—the gods can hope very far away—and put him at its head. Certainly I can think of no other person more deserving of the honor.”
She sighed. “You never did like him. I think probably because he didn’t pat you on the back and buy you a beer every time you bragged about your latest conquest, as if bedding farmer’s daughters was so remarkable.”
“There’s an art to it,” Chall said defensively. “Anyway, not just ‘not every time’ but not any time. The bastard never did give me my due.”
“Listen,” she said, glancing around the street at those walking around them before leaning in, “there are more important things at stake here than your wounded pride.”
“Yes,” he said, “dehydration comes to mind.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry overly much, Chall,” she said. “When you die, I don’t think it’ll be dehydration that causes it. Blood loss, likelier than not. Now come on—if I remember right, there’s a church near the center of town, one dedicated to Raveza.”
“The Goddess of Temperance,” Chall said, rolling his eyes. “Might as well be the Goddess of Unicorns and Assorted Mythical Creatures.”
“Not bad,” Maeve said, smiling despite herself, “though I’m not sure if it’d fit on the statue plaques.”
“And wouldn’t that be a terrible shame?”
Maeve stared at him for several seconds. “Are you done?”
Chall frowned. “Yes, Mae. I’m done.”
“You’re sure?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, “because, who knows, if we hang around talking much longer, we might end up making some of the guards suspicious. Why, we could even be recognized, though given your current…weight—sorry, I meant state, of course—that could be in some doubt. Still…” She shrugged. “It’s all the same to me. If you want to hang around, see if anyone calls the guards on us, we can. Then, I expect you’ll have some bigger things to bitch about than what appears to be, judging by the state of you, your personal quest to bring down the Goddess of Temperance.”
He had a hurt look on his face. “You know, you should really leave the jokes to me—they’re not supposed to be cruel. Only funny.”
“Oh, Chall,” she said, “how can I ever be expected to
