for a moment her reflection in it.
She looked tired, with dark smudges under her eyes. But her eyes themselves danced. I want this, she thought.
Which was silly. She knew spells. If she ever had a cause to throw a carvestar, she'd do just as well throwing a fireball. Better even-one did not have to aim a fireball particularly, as long as it didn't burst in her face.
'How do you throw them?' she heard herself ask.
'Here,' Sovann said, coming around the counter. 'Hold it flat against your palm like… that. And point your finger along here. Now pinch this with your thumb.' He sidled around behind her and set one hand on her hip. Tennora blushed. 'Good. Now pull your arm back-farther.' He held her wrist in one hand and smoothly pulled it back over her shoulder. 'There, now, throw!'
She flung the carvestar overhand. It spun across the room to lodge itself above the front door-several feet above the front door. Tennora cringed.
'Not bad,' Sovann said, and Tennora realized his other hand was on her hip now too. 'For a first try,' he added, giving her a little squeeze. 'You'll get the hang of them.' 'Yes,' she said. 'Well…' She stepped away, blushing furiously. What a fit her aunt would have! Corning down to a place like this, buying lockpicks, throwing weapons, and letting a complete stranger put his hands on her person.
But how she wanted those stars.
'How much?' she asked Sovann, who had climbed the nearby shelves and was leaning out to pluck the carvestar like the last apple on a tree.
'For you?' he said. He yanked the carvestar free and leaped down. 'Consider it a gift.'
'No,' Tennora said. 'No, no, no. I can't let you do that.' She reached for her coin purse. Sovann grabbed her hand in his and held it to his lips, startling Tennora.
'Please, duchess,' he said, turning her hand over and setting the carvestar in her palm. 'Let me do this for you. For the new Shadow Wind.'
'Oh,' Tennora said, blushing again. 'No, don't call me that.'
Sovann winked. 'Well, we'll have to wait and see what they call you in the chapbooks, won't we?' He opened the door for her with a little bow, and held out the rest of the carvestars in their case. 'Won't doubt it's something to make those young boys dream. Come again sometime.'
'I may,' Tennora said, smiling back.
The street looked sunnier, and Tennora walked down it with a certain swagger. She had the lockpicks and the lovely carvestars. And though she certainly wasn't interested in the shopkeeper, there was something exhilarating about the way he made her feel sharp and clever, about the easy way she'd managed to flirt with him. She would go back, she was certain of it. And when she did, she'd be able to say she'd pulled off Aundra's heist, no longer mired in guilt over the thought of it.
It wasn't until she'd come to the end of the block that Tennora realized she was missing her purse once more, that it hadn't been there since Sovann rested his hands on her hips.
'Godstlarning hrast it!' she shouted, earning a look of sad knowing from the pair of highcoin lasses.
Nazra Mrays held her son's hand as they strolled through the marketplace. Antoum kept glancing back over his shoulder at Jorik and another bodyguard who followed.
'Mama? Aren't I going to be late for lessons?'
Nazra smiled and squeezed his hand. 'I'm certain Master Halnian will not mind.' It wasn't as if she would be able to go walking with her son forever. Another year or two and he wouldn't want to hold her hand, but a girl's. She smiled at that and squeezed his hand again. If that old tailcoat-clinger minded, he wouldn't say a word. Not to Nazra.
'Master Halnian asked me if you liked the wards,' Antoum said.
'Did he?' Nazra held back a derisive snort-as if she couldn't see through that play. 'Did you tell him I like them just fine?'
'Yes,' Antoum said. 'He said you should tell him if they need adjusting. Sometimes spells need adjusting.'
Nazra smiled. 'I think I should tell him I have my own wizard to do such things. What do you think, dear heart? I'll just let you do all the spellcasting. Are you up to it?'
Antoum laughed. 'No! Not yet. But I can make a light, and it lasts almost as long as Master Halnian's! And I can warm up my chocolate! I did it yesterday.'
'Yes, you showed me,' Nazra said. 'And I remain terribly impressed.'
A wind rushed up and blew a few strands of hair free of her hood. She tucked her graying curls behind her tapered ears. The storms that blew through Waterdeep chasing summer's end were tedious indeed. They would last perhaps a tenday, but made going about her business such a chore. At least the lords had gotten the cellarers' and plumbers' guild to regulate the runoff, and there were fewer drowned gardens than there had been in decades past.
'Buckle your cloak, dear,' she said as another gust blew Antoum's cape back like a pair of wings.
'Ah, here we are.' She pushed open the door of the cobbler's. A spell in the door made a chorus of chirping songbirds sing out into the shop. A narrow man whose clothes draped him as if they were hung from the knobs of his shoulders came out into the front room.
'Nazra!' the cobbler cried, throwing up his hands. 'How marvelous! How glim!' He embraced Nazra. 'Tell me what you want. I live to serve.'
Nazra's mouth twisted into an amused smile and she fought not to laugh. Such delirious shows of gratitude weren't uncommon; she owned the building the cobbler rented from as well as a few others here and there in the Trades Ward.
'Dear Dellicot,' she said. 'We are here because my growing boy has a need for some new boots. And no ordinary boots-the best for my Antoum.'
Antoum rolled his eyes. Nazra winked at him.
Dellicot patted one of a trio of needlepoint chairs. 'Well, settle down here, young master, and we'll see how big you've grown!' He spread a piece of parchment on the floor while Antoum took off his shoes and set his bare feet on the sheet. Jorik slipped into a corner by the door.
The chirping rang through the shop again, and a dark-haired woman with no shoes on stepped into the shop. Dellicot's eyes flicked over her, no doubt sizing up her importance and how many coins she was likely to carry. The result could not have been positive, Nazra thought, wondering at the lack of shoes on the woman's feet and the awkward height of her hemline.
'Well met,' Dellicot said after a moment. 'You'll have to pardon me. I have a client just now. It might be best to come back later.'
The woman stared at the shop without answering. She was uncomfortably tall, exacerbated by a sinewy musculature that made her look rangy as a wolf. When she'd finished examining the walls, she looked down at the cobbler with such blue-eyed frustration that Nazra instinctively stepped in front of Antoum.
'I want boots,' she said. 'So what do I pay you?'
'You'll have to wait, goodwoman,' Dellicot said tersely. 'I'm measuring Young Master Mrays.'
The woman wrinkled her nose. 'How long will that take?'
'A quarter hour,' Dellicot said. 'After the measurements, we must choose the proper hide and cut. Which, to answer your first question, will make the decision of how many coins it costs.'
The woman stood for a moment, shifting from one foot to the other, as if trying to make up her mind, then dropped into the chair beside Nazra. Nazra smoothed her skirts behind her legs and sat as well.
For a long while, no one spoke. The woman sat studying Antoum and Dellicot and the measuring process, and Nazra sat studying the woman. There was something strange, something unsettling about her, but Nazra couldn't place it. Her eyes flicked up to Jorik's. He was watching too.
The woman looked up at Nazra. 'He is your… son?' She said the word as if it were unfamiliar, as if another word wanted to take its place.
'That is what the midwife tells me,' Nazra said lightly. 'His name is Antoum.'
'How old is he?'
'Eight years since this summer.' Nazra smiled. 'They get so big so quickly.'
