earlier than he was now.
“I do have to go. I’d rather not give the esteemed Anya an excuse to be upset.” Lyasa gave a half-wave as she stepped away from the pair.
“Have you eaten yet?” Cerryl studied the dancing green eyes, sparkling even in the gloom of the courtyard, and the wide mouth he thought of as kind. “We could go over to The Golden Ram.”
“How about Furenk’s?”
“Ah… all right.”
“I have some silvers. That way you won’t have to go back to your quarters. I’m hungry. Lyasa and I got to talking… and then it was dark.”
“Your father’s not expecting you?”
“No. He’s in Vergren, and I told Meridis not to fix anything tonight.” Leyladin smiled. “I was afraid she’d fix so much that I wouldn’t be able to walk. She does that when I’ve been away.” She turned toward the archway that led to the front Hall that fronted on the Wizards’ Square.
Cerryl stepped up beside her. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. It was interesting, but”-the blonde shrugged-“it’s good to be back.” A faint frown crossed her face and vanished.
The Avenue was dark as they crossed the square and headed east.
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I’m happy to be back. I wish Father had been here, but he had to go… something about problems with the lambing in Montgren.”
“I thought he was a trader.”
“He is, but the lambs born this year will affect wool in the years ahead. Also the price of grain and cattle… many things…”
Cerryl held back a sigh. Did the entire world revolve around coins and trade? The more he learned, the more it seemed as though it did. “How long will he be gone?”
“Soaris told me he left yesterday. That means an eight-day before he’s back.”
No signboard proclaimed Furenk’s. Letters carved in a marble plaque beside the door to the two-story pink granite edifice stated: “The Inn at Fairhaven.”
The two climbed the two wide pink marble steps and stepped inside. Cerryl glanced around, but before he could determine even where to go, a tall functionary in a pale blue cotton shirt and a dark blue vest appeared. “This way, Lady Leyladin, and you, ser.” The man in blue turned and led the way to a table for two in the back dining room. He seated Leyladin.
Cerryl sat down across from her. The back dining room was empty, except for them.
“It’s early,” Leyladin said quietly.
“They obviously know you.” Cerryl glanced around the room, which held only ten tables. Unlike the front room, where the polished tables were bare, all the tables in the rear dining area bore pale blue linen and full sets of cutlery. The rear dining area emphasized that Furenk’s was the most expensive inn in Fairhaven, where all the wealthy factors stayed, and where Cerryl had dined once-with Faltar, for a dinner that had cost him three silvers, with a single goblet of wine and no real extras. That had been a dinner in the front room-not that Cerryl had even known about the rear dining area. A lighted small polished bronze lamp rested in the middle of each table, the ten the only illumination, giving the room a low and discreet illumination.
“This is the only inn in Fairhaven that Father will frequent. So… we’re known here.”
“Lady Leyladin.” Cerryl wondered why the title bothered him.
“You make that sound so cold.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Lady… ser?” A thin older woman-also in the dark blue trousers and vest with the pale blue shirt-stood beside the table. “This evening, we have the special chicken breast or the tender beef over Furenk’s pasta.”
“The chicken,” said Leyladin.
“I’ll have that, too.”
“And the good red wine,” added the healer.
“The same.” Cerryl didn’t know what else to say.
The serving woman inclined her head and stepped away.
“What did Lyasa mean when she said she hoped you could talk before?” he asked after a moment of silence. “Before what?”
“Oh,
“I do have to go. I’d rather not give the esteemed Anya an excuse to be upset.” Lyasa gave a half-wave as she stepped away from the pair.
“Have you eaten yet?” Cerryl studied the dancing green eyes, sparkling even in the gloom of the courtyard, and the wide mouth he thought of as kind. “We could go over to The Golden Ram.”
“How about Furenk’s?”
“Ah… all right.”
“I have some silvers. That way you won’t have to go back to your quarters. I’m hungry. Lyasa and I got to talking… and then it was dark.”
“Your father’s not expecting you?”
“No. He’s in Vergren, and I told Meridis not to fix anything tonight.” Leyladin smiled. “I was afraid she’d fix so much that I wouldn’t be able to walk. She does that when I’ve been away.” She turned toward the archway that led to the front Hall that fronted on the Wizards’ Square.
Cerryl stepped up beside her. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. It was interesting, but”-the blonde shrugged-“it’s good to be back.” A faint frown crossed her face and vanished.
The Avenue was dark as they crossed the square and headed east.
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I’m happy to be back. I wish Father had been here, but he had to go… something about problems with the lambing in Montgren.”
“I thought he was a trader.”
“He is, but the lambs born this year will affect wool in the years ahead. Also the price of grain and cattle… many things…”
Cerryl held back a sigh. Did the entire world revolve around coins and trade? The more he learned, the more it seemed as though it did. “How long will he be gone?”
“Soaris told me he left yesterday. That means an eight-day before he’s back.”
No signboard proclaimed Furenk’s. Letters carved in a marble plaque beside the door to the two-story pink granite edifice stated: “The Inn at Fairhaven.”
The two climbed the two wide pink marble steps and stepped inside. Cerryl glanced around, but before he could determine even where to go, a tall functionary in a pale blue cotton shirt and a dark blue vest appeared. “This way, Lady Leyladin, and you, ser.” The man in blue turned and led the way to a table for two in the back dining room. He seated Leyladin.
Cerryl sat down across from her. The back dining room was empty, except for them.
“It’s early,” Leyladin said quietly.
“They obviously know you.” Cerryl glanced around the room, which held only ten tables. Unlike the front room, where the polished tables were bare, all the tables in the rear dining area bore pale blue linen and full sets of cutlery. The rear dining area emphasized that Furenk’s was the most expensive inn in Fairhaven, where all the wealthy factors stayed, and where Cerryl had dined once-with Faltar, for a dinner that had cost him three silvers, with a single goblet of wine and no real extras. That had been a dinner in the front room-not that Cerryl had even known about the rear dining area. A lighted small polished bronze lamp rested in the middle of each table, the ten the only illumination, giving the room a low and discreet illumination.
“This is the only inn in Fairhaven that Father will frequent. So… we’re known here.”
“Lady Leyladin.” Cerryl wondered why the title bothered him.
“You make that sound so cold.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Lady… ser?” A thin older woman-also in the dark blue trousers and vest with the pale blue shirt-stood beside the table. “This evening, we have the special chicken breast or the tender beef over Furenk’s pasta.”
“The chicken,” said Leyladin.
“I’ll have that, too.”
“And the good red wine,” added the healer.
“The same.” Cerryl didn’t know what else to say.
The serving woman inclined her head and stepped away.
“What did Lyasa mean when she said she hoped you could talk before?” he asked after a moment of silence. “Before what?”
“Oh,
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