Now Dirk took advantage of the noise and clatter at the tables all about them to cover his own confusion. “Well,” he replied when he finally managed to clear his head a bit of the daze he seemed to be in, “It sounds like you had a more entertaining trainee than I did. And a more interesting round. Mine was so dull and normal Ahrodie and I sleepwalked through most of it.”

“Lord of Lights wish I could claim that! Don’t forget, ‘May your life be interesting’ happens to be a very potent curse! Besides, I seem to remember you claiming that young Skif had you worn to a frazzle before the circuit was over.”

“I guess I did,” Dirk chuckled. “Did you know his Cymry dropped a foal, and he blames it all on you two?”

“No doubt, since neither of them have an ounce of shame to spare between them.” Kris ducked as a student burdened with a stack of dirty dishes taller than he was inched past them. “Lord, I hope that youngling’s got one of the Fetching Gifts, or he’s going to lose that whole stack in a minute—yes, Skif and Cymry deserve what they got. Poor Talia would have been ready to skin both of them given the chance. . . .”

“Oh?”

Kris was more and more pleased by Dirk’s reactions. He needed no further urging, and related the tale with relish, stopping short of the fight—which had been caused, in an obscure sort of way, by Dirk—and the swimming match that followed. He insisted then that they ought to take themselves out of the way of those students assigned to clearing tables.

“Fine; my room or yours?” Dirk was doing his damnedest to keep his feelings from showing. Unfortunately, Kris knew him too well; that deadpan dicing face he was putting on only proved he was considerably on edge.

“Good gods, not yours—we’d be lost in there for a week! Mine; and I still have some of that Ehrris-wine, I think.. ”

The tales continued over the wine and a small fire, both of them lounging at full length in Kris’ old, worn green chairs. And every other sentence Kris spoke seemed to have something to do with Talia. Dirk tried his best to seem interested, but not as obsessed as he actually was. Kris let the shadows hide his faint smile, for he wasn’t fooled a bit.

But not once did Kris let fall the information Dirk really wanted to know—and finally, emboldened by the wine, he came out and asked for it.

“Look, Kris—you’re the soul of chivalry, but we’re blood-brothers, you can tell me safely! Were you, or weren’t you?”

“Were we what?” Kris asked innocently.

“S-sleeping together, you nit!”