He laughed. He glanced over at me and laughed again. “Hell, I don’t know. It’s not like there was a point in doing it, not in front of three of you. Just slipped out. I was little, though, when he was at court. If he remembers me at all, it’s as a little one. Does that make sense?”

“What was he like, then?”

Dor shrugged. “I was little. To me he was fascinating: a foreigner, a mix, another shaper. He was always with Vath, and I was always with Vath. He was quiet, and smart. I’m quiet. There’s not many quiet folks around where I’m from, just me and him and Vath, really. He was nice to me, let me hang around, let me pester him with questions. He was, uh…” and here he paused. He looked me over, careful, uncertain. “He was close with a couple of my brothers. They knew him better than I.”

The conversation had slowed the walk. I was very late for my appointment with Shayat. I felt a dread in my bones when I knocked on the door of Parvi’s shop, one that was well founded. Parvi opened it, already apologetic. “Ah, professor…”

That was all he got out. Shayat batted the door open wide. “Oh, you made it.”

“Shayat…”

“You’re an hour and a half late, and I’m the rude one.”

“I’m sorry. Shayat…”

She sighed. She glared at me. And then she noticed Dor. “Why is there a red elf with you?”

“I was going to explain that to you, actually.”

Parvi slipped away from the door. “I’ll just leave you to your lessons,” he said.

Beside me, Dor began to laugh. He tried to hide it and failed miserably. Red elves are not used to hiding laughter. Shayat stood in the doorway, haughty, irate, arms crossed. I was unhorsed by her, swept up in her, and I began to laugh, too. She was not pleased. “I’m sorry! I am! May we come in? I’m here now. I’m sorry for the lateness, I am.”

She frowned at me. She frowned at Dor. Then, she held the door open for us. “It’s late,” she said. “Are you hungry? Did you eat?”

“I haven’t eaten, no.”

She led us into the kitchen, which I’d never been in before. She pointed to the table and a second later dropped a platter of flatbread on the table. It landed with a heavy bang. Then she dropped a bowl of hummus next to it. The bowl tottered, half-spun, threatened to fall over. Shayat glared at it, willed it into obedience. She sat down next to me, eyeing Dor hard. “Who is he, and why did you bring him here?”

Dor began to laugh again, and I couldn’t help it, it was contagious. Shayat threw her hands up at me.