saying—“and I never want to
not
be with you again.”
She looked stunned, as well she might. I dropped my hand from her chin before she could feel it tremble.
“Your outfit is magnificent,” I said, surprised that my smile felt reasonably steady. “I’m sure everyone here appreciates all the work you must have done today.”
She started to say something, changed her mind, and went along with changing the subject. She smiled hesitantly at first, then let the smile light up her face.
“You have made it clear,” she said, “that
you
appreciate it, which was my only goal. It is generous of you to assume that I am the one who attracts the eyes of the crowd. It takes no special skill to read the envy in the women who watch us.”
A hostess appeared, carrying glasses of faen, the Gandalaran equivalent of beer. We placed our orders—I wanted a glith steak; Tarani opted for a vegetable stew dish—and the evening took on one more similarity to the time I had spent with Illia. Now, as then, we shared a willingness to ignore thoughts of past or future in favor of enjoying the moment.
It worked for a while. We ate dinner and walked to the dance hall, hand in hand. Tarani was absolutely delighted with the large, patterned floor, and the people moving rhythmically, in unison, each following the pattern of the specific dance. I was surprised to learn that this type of dancing was unknown outside of Raithskar. The dances themselves were based on dances Tarani knew, but they had been formalized. Movement was linked to the floor patterns, and interaction between the dancing couples had been added. Tempos varied from graceful swaying to an intricate and rapid foot placement that would have put calisthenics to shame.
Each of the tables was numbered and could seat four people. It was still early, so that we were alone at our table. Tarani could barely contain her eagerness until our number was called. We took our place on the multicolored tile, and the music started.
And I thought Tarani turned heads at the restaurant,
I said to myself, amused at the sensation the girl in the black outfit was creating.
Tarani danced exactly the same way everyone else danced, incorporating variations with the skill of a trained dancer. Her movements were the same as the other dancers, but the grace of her body and the design of her clothes enhanced them, setting her apart from the ordinary. Knowing we were in the spotlight, literally, I put forth some extra effort to be a better partner for her.
After the dance, some of the nearby couples took the trouble to speak to us, complimenting our dancing. Tarani was positively glowing as we headed back to our table—which was no longer empty.
“Good evening,” Zaddorn said, as he stood up. “Illia assured me you would not object to our joining you.”
Illia was looking at the table top. I didn’t bother wondering why.
“You’re welcome, of course,” I said. “Tarani, I believe you met Illia outside the house just before we left.”
“Yes, I recall it well,” she said, nodding at the girl. Then she turned her attention to Zaddorn. “I am pleased to see you, Zaddorn. In the stress of the day we returned to Raithskar, you and I did not meet formally. But I was very much aware of your kindness and concern, and I am grateful for the opportunity to thank you now.”
To his surprise and mine, Tarani put out her hand. Zaddorn bowed slightly as he took it. I couldn’t miss the eyebrow he raised in my direction. I had been the only other person ever to offer him a handshake.
“I can assure you, you have the sympathy of everyone in the city,” he said. “You”—he gestured to include me, as well as Tarani, in his statement—“and your family of sha’um are a center of interest, a spot of joy in an otherwise very frightened city.”
I had been trying to ignore the signs—laughter just a bit too loud, faen flowing more freely than usual, a frantic quality to the gaiety. I wanted to
not
be with you again.”
She looked stunned, as well she might. I dropped my hand from her chin before she could feel it tremble.
“Your outfit is magnificent,” I said, surprised that my smile felt reasonably steady. “I’m sure everyone here appreciates all the work you must have done today.”
She started to say something, changed her mind, and went along with changing the subject. She smiled hesitantly at first, then let the smile light up her face.
“You have made it clear,” she said, “that
you
appreciate it, which was my only goal. It is generous of you to assume that I am the one who attracts the eyes of the crowd. It takes no special skill to read the envy in the women who watch us.”
A hostess appeared, carrying glasses of faen, the Gandalaran equivalent of beer. We placed our orders—I wanted a glith steak; Tarani opted for a vegetable stew dish—and the evening took on one more similarity to the time I had spent with Illia. Now, as then, we shared a willingness to ignore thoughts of past or future in favor of enjoying the moment.
It worked for a while. We ate dinner and walked to the dance hall, hand in hand. Tarani was absolutely delighted with the large, patterned floor, and the people moving rhythmically, in unison, each following the pattern of the specific dance. I was surprised to learn that this type of dancing was unknown outside of Raithskar. The dances themselves were based on dances Tarani knew, but they had been formalized. Movement was linked to the floor patterns, and interaction between the dancing couples had been added. Tempos varied from graceful swaying to an intricate and rapid foot placement that would have put calisthenics to shame.
Each of the tables was numbered and could seat four people. It was still early, so that we were alone at our table. Tarani could barely contain her eagerness until our number was called. We took our place on the multicolored tile, and the music started.
And I thought Tarani turned heads at the restaurant,
I said to myself, amused at the sensation the girl in the black outfit was creating.
Tarani danced exactly the same way everyone else danced, incorporating variations with the skill of a trained dancer. Her movements were the same as the other dancers, but the grace of her body and the design of her clothes enhanced them, setting her apart from the ordinary. Knowing we were in the spotlight, literally, I put forth some extra effort to be a better partner for her.
After the dance, some of the nearby couples took the trouble to speak to us, complimenting our dancing. Tarani was positively glowing as we headed back to our table—which was no longer empty.
“Good evening,” Zaddorn said, as he stood up. “Illia assured me you would not object to our joining you.”
Illia was looking at the table top. I didn’t bother wondering why.
“You’re welcome, of course,” I said. “Tarani, I believe you met Illia outside the house just before we left.”
“Yes, I recall it well,” she said, nodding at the girl. Then she turned her attention to Zaddorn. “I am pleased to see you, Zaddorn. In the stress of the day we returned to Raithskar, you and I did not meet formally. But I was very much aware of your kindness and concern, and I am grateful for the opportunity to thank you now.”
To his surprise and mine, Tarani put out her hand. Zaddorn bowed slightly as he took it. I couldn’t miss the eyebrow he raised in my direction. I had been the only other person ever to offer him a handshake.
“I can assure you, you have the sympathy of everyone in the city,” he said. “You”—he gestured to include me, as well as Tarani, in his statement—“and your family of sha’um are a center of interest, a spot of joy in an otherwise very frightened city.”
I had been trying to ignore the signs—laughter just a bit too loud, faen flowing more freely than usual, a frantic quality to the gaiety. I wanted to
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