That would be the easiest answer, certainly. Let Remmie herd his little flock, leaving her to dream alone of beautiful, mageworked things, and how one day she’d escape the confines of Arndel’s artisanry. Besides, it would only be a torment to her, visiting Elvado. There were excellent reasons why she’d stayed away.

“Please, Barl,” her brother said, wheedling. “We can throw a coin in the plaza’s great fountain for Mama and Pa. Didn’t we promise we’d do that one day? But we never have. And it’s bad luck not to keep that kind of promise.”

Oh, well, now that was playing dirty. “One day, yes,” she muttered. “But does it have to be next Winsun?”

“Surely next Winsun’s as good a day as any.”

Of course it was. Staring at the blue-and-yellow checked tablecloth, she swallowed a resentful sigh. She’d have to say yes. If she didn’t, she’d give Remmie pause for thought. She’d have him fretting and nagging and niggling…

“Fine,” she said crossly, lifting her gaze. “I’ll come, but only so we can toss the remembrance coin. Oh, and so I can laugh myself sick watching you chase after your gaggle of school brats like a three-legged sheepdog.” She raised a warning finger. “But don’t you even think of asking me for help herding them. Other people’s snotty-nosed children are your delight, not mine.”

Remmie was grinning. “Don’t fret. Barton’s coming too, with his class. He’ll help me keep order.”

“Barton Haye?” Her heart sank. “Oh.”

His grin turning sly, Remmie reached for the last piece of buttered bread. “Of course Barton’s coming. I think he’s more excited than the children. He’ll be tickled even pinker when I tell him you’re joining us.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yes, well, while you’re at it you can tell him I’m walking out with one of the mages from the artisanry.”

“Tell him yourself,” he retorted, around a crammed mouthful. “Barton’s a good fellow. I’ll not fib to him on your account.”

“It would be a kindness if you did, Remmie. Coming from me it’ll only prick his pride worse. Besides, I don’t want to lie to his face.”

“But you’ve no trouble asking me to?” Finished eating, he began collecting his plate and bowl and cutlery. “You steal my breath, Barl. You truly do.”

She handed him her own bowl and spoon, balanced on her crumb-strewn plate. “I don’t see why. Since you’ve such a fondness for him I’m surprised you didn’t offer.”

Remmie clattered their used dishes into the sink. “Look. I know Barton isn’t your dash of salt but—”

“Is he anyone’s?” She laughed. “I can’t see it. He’s short and skinny and his ears stick out. And when he laughs he—”

“Don’t!” Remmie said, turning. “Why must you be unkind? What do a man’s looks count for? Barton Haye has a good heart, he’s gentle and patient and a gifted teacher. If he’s not as handsome as you’d have him, how is that a crime? You’d best believe you could do far worse!”