more than rubies. From the depths of unhappiness, his grin broke forth. ‘Poems
also are valuable, right? You S’danzo have your ballads and love ditties. Let me
indite a poem, Illyra, that shall be yours alone.’ Her expression quickened.
‘Truly?’
‘Truly. Let me think … Aye, we’ll begin thus.’ And, venturing to take her
hands in his, Cappen murmured:
‘My lady comes to me like break of day.
I dream in darkness if it chance she tarries,
Until the banner other brightness harries
The hosts of Shadowland from off the way-‘
She jerked free and cried, ‘No! You scoundrel, that has to be something you did
for Danlis – or for some earlier woman you wanted in your bed -‘
‘But it isn’t finished,’ he argued. ‘I’ll complete it for you, Illyra.’
Anger left her. She shook her head, clicked her tongue, and sighed. ‘No matter.
You’re incurably yourself. And I … am only halfS’danzo. I’ll attempt your
spell.’
‘By every love goddess I ever heard of,’ he promised unsteadily, ‘you shall
indeed have your own poem after this is over.’
‘Be still,’ she ordered. ‘Fend off anybody who comes near.’
He faced about and drew his sword. The slim, straight blade was hardly needed,
for no other enterprise had site within several yards of hei-s, and as wide a
stretch of paving lay between him and the fringes of the crowd. Still, to grasp
the hilt gave him a sense of finally making progress. He had felt helpless for
the first’ hours, hopeless, as if his dear had actually died instead of – of
what? Behind him he heard cards riffled, dice cast, words softly wailed.