Dragonfly

"That is very well explained, Ram." She laughed. The sound made his stomach flip over. "And I'd like to thank you for the flower."

"Did you like it?" He wanted to ask if he had finally got something right.

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"I'm afraid I sat on it." Her shoulders were shaking. He wondered for a moment what was so

fu

He joined in good-humoredly. "I'm afraid our love tokens are doomed."

That brought her up short. "Love token?" She glanced up at him, her eyes glinting through the veil.

He looked down at his hands. "Why? What did you think it was?"

"I didn't know. You'd just told me I made you feel bad."

"But you said that Blue Crescent men present them to their ladies."

"You listened to me? I mean, you were trying to be . . . ?" She floundered for a word.

"Sensitive. Yes, I, Ramil ac Burinholt, obviously well known for my cultural diplomacy, was

attempting to be the ideal lover."

"But you don't like me . . . not like that!" Tashi protested. Her mind was trying to catch up with this new information. "Or are you merely trying to reopen negotiations on a marriage alliance?"

she asked suspiciously. "Because if you are, I was going to argue with my sisters that they should offer our navy without that. I wouldn't want you to be yoked to someone you can't be happy

with."

"Tashi, look at me."

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"I am."

"But I can't see you through that veil."

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"Then you'll just have to trust me."

Ramil smiled. "I wanted to give you the flower just as a boy would give a girl a present--not

because you are a princess, or an ally, or for any of those reasons. It came with no conditions, no

schemes, except perhaps the hope that you might like me just a little better."

"Then I accept it and thank you." Tashi felt a burst of happiness. She'd got it al wrong: he did like her.

"So what's next?" asked Ramil, feeling very pleased with himself.

"How do you mean?"

"What should a boy do now?"

"On the Islands, you'd write a poem in praise of my eyebrow," Tashi said teasingly. "Around here, you'd kiss me." She spurred her pony forward, leaving him wondering.

The Yellow Dog was a prosperous half-timbered thatched house

strategically placed at the bridge over the river that formed the boundary with Kandar. As they

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rode up at dusk, the mullion windows on the ground floor streamed with light, indicating that

the place was already bustling with visitors. Gordoc and Professor Norling took charge of the

horses while Ramil negotiated for a private room for "his sister" to dine. The landlord was a fat, bald man with a sharp expression, his gaze flicking from side to side as he bargained, keeping an

eye on the doings in the taproom. Ramil glimpsed Melletin and Yelena at a table, already

embarked upon

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supper, but they made no sign that they knew the newcomers.

"You can have the room down the corridor, sir," the landlord said. "Though we're going to be pressed to find you a bed tonight. This lady--you say she's your sister?"

"Yes." Ramil adopted the superior air and the guttural accent of the Southerners.

"She'll have to share with someone, as will you, sir, with that old fellow you came in with. I'll see what I can do. A couple arrived just ahead of you.

Perhaps I can sort something out with the lady."

"That would be acceptable."

"Your servant will have to make do with the barn."

"He will be happy with whatever I tell him to do."

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"You know best, sir. Now I'll see to your supper."

Leaving them alone in front of the fire in the little sitting room, the i

shouting orders to his staff as he closed the door. Tashi reached to remove her veil, but Ramil

shook his head and put his finger to his lips. He strode to the door and opened it suddenly,

revealing the i

odd posture.

"Where is my slave?" Ramil snapped.

"I'll send him to you directly, sir," the i

Ramil closed the door and sat down beside Tashi at the table.

"Sorry, but you'll have to stay covered," he whispered.

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"We've heard he's Fergox's man. No doubt he's paid to spy on travellers."

"Oh well." Tashi sighed. "I rather like this veil. It allows me to be more myself somehow. I don't have to worry about what anyone's thinking."

"But that's exactly why I hate it. I've no idea what's going on under there."

The i

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"Where is the doctor?" asked Ramil brusquely.

"He fell into conversation with some people, sir," Gordoc said, rather overdoing his performance by tugging his forelock. "Told you to eat without him. I'm to have mine in the kitchen."

"Off you go. But don't forget to clean my boots before you go to bed!"

Gordoc winked at Tashi as he left.

The i

watched bemused as Tashi's share disappeared under her veil.

"My sister is in mourning, sir," Ramil said, meeting his look. "Her husband served with me in the army but died at Midwinter."

"Beg your pardon, ma'am," the i

"Yes. I was part of the garrison at Felixholt. Too cold for my liking."

The i

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in for a good chat. "So you were there when the witch escaped then?"

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"Indeed I was, to my great sorrow. My sister's husband was killed when that woman fled."

The i

"Ugliest girl you've ever seen." Ramil reached under the table and took Tashi's hand. "Glaring eyes like hot coals: Hair all stringy and colorless--not natural. Smelt of brimstone."

"Aye, that's what the others are saying. They can't find her--they think she's fled into Gerfal by now, but Lord Fergox says he's going to root her out and see she doesn't bewitch any more with

her spells." He shook his head. "If I were Gerfal, I'd throw her back into the sea where she came from. She'll bring them nothing but bad luck."

"But bad luck for Gerfal is good luck for us, no?" Ramil suggested.

The i

Ramil sighed with relief when the talkative landlord finally decided to go, but he didn't get very

far with his supper before Tashi swatted him in the stomach.

"Hot coals? Stringy hair?"

He laughed. "Shh! You know I was only saying what I had to say in front of him."

"But those words occurred to you--you must have thought them!"

Ramil scratched his head, knowing that he was probably damned whatever he said now.

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"Well, your eyes can blaze when they're angry. I bet they're blazing now.

And compared to us, your hair is pale--not that it doesn't have a most wonderful color. Um . . .