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Authors: L. E. Modesitt
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go.”
“Hmmmm…” Cerryl took another sip of the wine. “Do you get some sort of escort?”
“I had a full score of lancers to and from Hydolar.”
“I got ten of Eliasar’s worst when I went to Fenard.” The White mage mock-snorted. “You are definitely of greater value to the Brotherhood.”
“That was before the Council made you a full mage.”
“Now, you think, I might get a full score of the worst?”
Leyladin half-laughed, half-chuckled at Cerryl’s dry tone. “Perhaps a score and a half.”
“You are so encouraging.”
“I said I was trouble.”
For a long moment Cerryl just looked across the low lamp into the deep green eyes, letting the silence draw out.
“Cerryl? Why were you looking at me like that?”
“Because you have beautiful eyes.” Because I could fall into them and never emerge.
“Do you tell all the girls that?”
Cerryl flushed. “I’ve never told anyone that.”
“I’m sorry. I must have sounded cruel. I didn’t mean it that way.” She looked down at the goblet in her long fingers.
“There haven’t been-”
She held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. Sometimes I forget. That’s all. How do you like the chicken? You didn’t say.”
What did she forget? That I’m not the son of a trader or a merchant? That I haven’t had mistresses and the like? “Ah… the chicken… I liked it very much. The rice, too.” He glanced down at the empty pale blue china. “And the peaches.” That plate was equally empty, and he hoped he hadn’t gulped them all down. He didn’t even really remember eating them.
“The glaze was good.”
He stifled a yawn, swallowing it and hoping Leyladin didn’t notice.
“You’re tired. I can tell that.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are tired, and you are going to walk me home. Then you are going to walk to your apartment and get a good night’s sleep before you go on duty tomorrow.” Leyladin rose, deftly leaving four silvers on the table.
“I was-”
“It’s the least I can do if you think I’m going off to abandon you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you feel that way, and I don’t want you to.” She offered a warm smile. “Come on. I’m tired, too.”
Cerryl found himself nodding, realizing that she had been traveling for at least two days-yet she looked wonderful. He wouldn’t have appeared nearly so good. That he knew. He offered his arm as they stepped through the main dining area, now nearly filled.
“She’s the lady healer… a White mage… could be a relative…”
“… look good together, though…”
“Lady Leyladin… don’t know him…”
In the foyer, the tall man in blue bowed. “Good evening, Lady Leyladin… ser.”
Leyladin smiled and turned to the functionary. “Dassaor, this is the mage Cerryl. My father thinks most highly of him.”
“No one would ever question your father’s judgment, lady. We hope to see you both more often.” Dassaor bowed.
Cerryl inclined his head ever so slightly. “Thank you, Dassaor.”
Once they were outside and headed toward the Wizards’ Square, Cerryl glanced at the blonde healer. “You never told me your father thought highly of me.”
“He does. He’s amazed at you, particularly at how well you speak.”
“I’ve worked hard at it. I didn’t want to sound as though I’d just come from the mines.”
“You’ve done more than that. Kinowin speaks well, but there’s a roughness around his words. Yours are polished. You should feel pleased. Not because my father is amazed, but because of what you’ve made of yourself.”
What have I made of myself? A junior mage who must still watch his back and every hint of intrigue? A man who cannot even pay for the dinner of the woman he loves? “I don’t know that I’ve made that much of myself.”
She laughed, gently. “You are hard in judging yourself.”
The square was empty as they turned north on the Avenue.
“I guess I have to be. Whose judgment dare I
“Hmmmm…” Cerryl took another sip of the wine. “Do you get some sort of escort?”
“I had a full score of lancers to and from Hydolar.”
“I got ten of Eliasar’s worst when I went to Fenard.” The White mage mock-snorted. “You are definitely of greater value to the Brotherhood.”
“That was before the Council made you a full mage.”
“Now, you think, I might get a full score of the worst?”
Leyladin half-laughed, half-chuckled at Cerryl’s dry tone. “Perhaps a score and a half.”
“You are so encouraging.”
“I said I was trouble.”
For a long moment Cerryl just looked across the low lamp into the deep green eyes, letting the silence draw out.
“Cerryl? Why were you looking at me like that?”
“Because you have beautiful eyes.” Because I could fall into them and never emerge.
“Do you tell all the girls that?”
Cerryl flushed. “I’ve never told anyone that.”
“I’m sorry. I must have sounded cruel. I didn’t mean it that way.” She looked down at the goblet in her long fingers.
“There haven’t been-”
She held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. Sometimes I forget. That’s all. How do you like the chicken? You didn’t say.”
What did she forget? That I’m not the son of a trader or a merchant? That I haven’t had mistresses and the like? “Ah… the chicken… I liked it very much. The rice, too.” He glanced down at the empty pale blue china. “And the peaches.” That plate was equally empty, and he hoped he hadn’t gulped them all down. He didn’t even really remember eating them.
“The glaze was good.”
He stifled a yawn, swallowing it and hoping Leyladin didn’t notice.
“You’re tired. I can tell that.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are tired, and you are going to walk me home. Then you are going to walk to your apartment and get a good night’s sleep before you go on duty tomorrow.” Leyladin rose, deftly leaving four silvers on the table.
“I was-”
“It’s the least I can do if you think I’m going off to abandon you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you feel that way, and I don’t want you to.” She offered a warm smile. “Come on. I’m tired, too.”
Cerryl found himself nodding, realizing that she had been traveling for at least two days-yet she looked wonderful. He wouldn’t have appeared nearly so good. That he knew. He offered his arm as they stepped through the main dining area, now nearly filled.
“She’s the lady healer… a White mage… could be a relative…”
“… look good together, though…”
“Lady Leyladin… don’t know him…”
In the foyer, the tall man in blue bowed. “Good evening, Lady Leyladin… ser.”
Leyladin smiled and turned to the functionary. “Dassaor, this is the mage Cerryl. My father thinks most highly of him.”
“No one would ever question your father’s judgment, lady. We hope to see you both more often.” Dassaor bowed.
Cerryl inclined his head ever so slightly. “Thank you, Dassaor.”
Once they were outside and headed toward the Wizards’ Square, Cerryl glanced at the blonde healer. “You never told me your father thought highly of me.”
“He does. He’s amazed at you, particularly at how well you speak.”
“I’ve worked hard at it. I didn’t want to sound as though I’d just come from the mines.”
“You’ve done more than that. Kinowin speaks well, but there’s a roughness around his words. Yours are polished. You should feel pleased. Not because my father is amazed, but because of what you’ve made of yourself.”
What have I made of myself? A junior mage who must still watch his back and every hint of intrigue? A man who cannot even pay for the dinner of the woman he loves? “I don’t know that I’ve made that much of myself.”
She laughed, gently. “You are hard in judging yourself.”
The square was empty as they turned north on the Avenue.
“I guess I have to be. Whose judgment dare I
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