“He walked down the passageway with her and cursed silently. Obviously, he'd grossly overestimated his appeal. Perhaps he should have taken her at her word at Gobhann when she reminded him that she had no use for mages. Perhaps he should have realized sooner that she - ...had reached behind his back and taken his hand.”

“Ruith?"He looked at her with a smile. "Aye, my love?""Are you sure?"He looked at her, puzzled, for a moment, then apparently he realized what she was asking. "How could you ask?""Because when a gel wants something very badly, she tends to want to avoid breaking her heart over the false hope of having it."His breath caught. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was blinking rapidly from something besides the smoke the passageway.”

“He lifed his head and looked down at her seriously. "Could you," he began, then he had to clear his throat. "Could you learn to be fond of me?" he asked. "With enough time?"She looked at him in surprise. It was the first time in all their acquaintance that she'd heard him sound the least bit hesitant. "I don't need to learn anything," she said, before she thought better of it.”

“What is wrong with the [tale of] Two Swords?" he asked, even more surprised. "Don't you care for it?""There is too bloody much romance in it," she said curtly.Ah, well, here was the crux of it, apparently. "Don't you like romance?" he ventured.She looked as though she were trying to decide if she should weep or, as he had earlier predicted, stick him with whatever blade she could lay her, hand on. "I don't know," she said briskly."I see," he said, though he didn't. He wished, absently, that he'd had at least one sister. He was very well versed in what constituted courtly behavior and appropriate formal wooing practices, thanks to his father's insistence on many such lectures delivered by a dour man whose only acquaintance with women had likely come from reading about them in a book, but he had absolutely no idea how to proceed with a woman whose first instinct when faced with something that made her uncomfortable was to draw her sword...."I'll stop provoking you, but I will have the answer to a question. Why do you think most men woo?""Because they have no sword skill and need something with which to occupy their time?”

“Runach didn't consider himself particularly dull, but he had to admit he was baffled. "Then what now?""What do you mean, what now?" Weger echoed in disbelief. "Do what is necessary! Bloody hell, man, must I instruct you in every bloody step? Take your mighty magic and heal her!"Runach blinked. "What in the world are you talking about?"Weger threw up his hands in frustration. "Heal her, you fool! Use Fadaire or whatever elvish rot comes first to mind.""I have no magic.""Of course you have magic--" Weger stopped suddenly. "You what?" "I have no magic," Runach repeated, through gritted teeth. "My father took it at the well."Weger looked suddenly as if he needed to sit down. "Bloody hell," he said faintly. He sagged back against the door. "I had no idea"Weger rubbed his hands over his face and indulged in a selection of very vile curses. "Damn it," he said, finally. He looked at Runach. "What are we to do now?""If magic will work here" Runach said, "why don't you use yours?"Weger folded his arms over his chest. "I haven't used a word of magic in over three hundred years!""No time like the present to dust it off then, is there?"Weger hesitated. Runach suspected it was the first time in those same three centuries the man had done so. He considered, then looked at Runach."I could," he said, sounding as if the words had been dragged from him by a thousand irresistible spells, "but I have no elegant magic."Runach shrugged. "Then use Wexham.""It will leave a scar.""I don't think she'll care.""It will leave a very large, ugly scar," Weger amended."Then use Camanae or Fadaire," Runach suggested."And have my mouth catch on fire? You ask too much."Runach looked at him seriously. "I honestly don't care what you use, as long as you save her life. Whilst you still can."Weger looked as if his fondest wish was to turn and flee. But he apparently wasn't the master of Gobhann because he was a coward. He took a deep breath, cursed fluently, then knelt down. Runach listened to him spit out an eminently useful spell of Croxteth, then follow that bit of healing with a very long string of curses in which Lothar of Wychweald and Runach's own father figured prominently.”

“Where are you from?" She asked without thinking."I was born in the mountains." Runach said with a shrug. "The place doesn't matter.""Do you have siblings?""Yes, several. Not all are still living. He smiled faintly. "You are full of questions this afternoon.""The library was a bad influence on me."Runach smiled briefly. "And I believe that was three questions you asked me, which leaves me with three of my own for you to answer.""That was two.""I don't count very well.""I think you count very well," she said grimly.He only smiled again. "I'll contemplate which answers I'll have and let you know." Aisling thought she just might be dreading them, but couldn't bring herself to say as much."What was your home like?" she asked."Another question.""You look distracted."He smiled and a dimple peeked out at her from his unscarred cheek. "You are more devious than I give you credit for being. I am keeping a tally, you know. I will expect a like number of answers from you."She stared at him for a moment or two. It was difficult not to, but he didnt seem to mind. "Why?" She asked finally."Beacause you are a mystery.""And do you care for a mystery?""I am obsessed by a good mystery," he said frankly. "More than enough to pry a few answers out of you, however I am able.""And what if I am not inclined to give them?" She asked, her mouth suddenly dry."Then I will wonder about you silently.""In truth?" she asked, surprised.Runach smiled, looking just as surprised. "What else would I do? Beat the answers from you?""I don't know." She said slowly. "I don't know what soldiers do."He shook his head. "Hedge all you like, if you like.""Your mother must have been a well-bred lady." She said, frowning."Why do you say that?""She seems to have taught you decent manners, for your being a mere soldier.""She tried," he agreed, looking out over the sea.Aisling turned and looked at him. "How long ago did you lose her?"Runach took a deep breath and dragged his hand through his hair, before he bowed his head and slid her a look. "That answer will cost you dearly."Her first instinct, as always, was to say nothing. But the truth was, she lived and breathed still. She could tell him perhaps a bit about herself, without bringing the curse down upon her head. Aisling took her own deep breath. "Very well.""My mother died twenty years ago, though I vow it feels like yesterday.""How did she die?"Runach was very still. "My father slew her and half my siblings. Time has done the rest of that terrible work I suppose.She shut her mouth, and put her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry.""I am too," he agreed. Runach shook his head, then reached for her hand to draw it through his arm. "Let's walk whilst you spew out the answers you owe me. You'll be more comfortable that way, I'm sure.""I'm not sure you should worry about my comfort" Aisling managed, "not after those questions.""But I do. And now that I have bared my soul, I think you should worry about my comfort and do the same.”

“(Background: Morgan is a female warrior looking for a fight. Adhémar is your garden variety male.)A man near the door leered at her. Adhémar immediately stepped in front of her, but Morgan pushed him aside. She looked at the man and smiled pleasantly. Ah, something to take her mind off her coming journey."Did you say something?" she asked."Aye," he said, "I asked it you were occupied tonight, but I can see you have a collection of lads here to keep you busy—"Adhémar apparently couldn't control his chivalry. He took the man by the front of the shirt and threw him out the door. The man crawled to his feet and started bellowing. Adhémar planted his fist into the man's face.The stranger slumped to the ground, senseless. Morgan glared at Adhémar."You owe me a brawl," she said."What?" he asked incredulously."A brawl," Morgan said. "And it had best be a good one.""With me?" he asked, blinking in surprise."I'd prefer someone with more skill, that I might not sleep through it, but you'll do."Paien laughed out loud and pulled him away."Adhémar, my friend, you cannot win this one. Next time, allow Morgan her little pleasures. She cannot help the attention her face attracts, and thus she has opportunities to teach ignorant men manners. In truth, it is a service she offers, bettering our kind wherever she goes.”