The women glanced at each other, and Zui rapped the door again, four knocks this time. Again nothing. Zui humphed and banged the knocker forcefully against the door as she shouted, “Weysh! I know you’re in there!”

Something inside hit the floor and heavy footsteps approached them. The door flew open.

“What! I’m studying,” Weysh grumped, and then paused when he noticed Yenni.

“Weh-sheh?” said Yenni uncertainly. Since the day of their fight he’d grown out a scruffy, unkempt beard, his hair now hung free in ratty tangles, and his violet eyes were dull, with none of that usual sparkle. He wore his green mage’s uniform trousers but no shoes, and his white undershirt was rumpled and unbuttoned. She wanted to reach out and stroke his face the same way she’d often stroked Dragon’s, but she resisted. He filled his doorway, staring blankly at her and saying nothing. Finally his eyes flicked back to Zui. “My house is a mess, you couldn’t have given me a warning?”

“Nope,” Zui said simply. “It was best to get her here before she changed her mind. Now I have somewhere very important to be. Weysh will see you home, Yenni Ajani.”

“What? Zoo-ee, wait!” cried Yenni.

But Zui was already off, hurrying down the path, and a moment later she changed, taking to the sky. Yenni turned back to Weysh.

“Oh. May I come in?”

“I can’t very well leave you standing out there,” said Weysh. He stepped aside, allowing Yenni to enter a small foyer. She had never been inside a Creshen home before, but Weysh’s house reminded her of her suite at Riverbank Chambers. Bigger, of course, but just as closed in, and with the same dark wood walls. The tiled foyer branched off in three directions, each with an engraved archway. The one on the right led to a cooking area, the one on the left to an eating area, and the one straight ahead to a sitting area. Weysh closed the door behind her.

“This way,” he said, and led her forward into the sitting room. Two plush armchairs were arranged around a small round table that held a glass bottle of something dark brown—some kind of Creshen wine no doubt—and a half-empty glass. Other empty, unwashed glasses littered the room as well as books, some strewn open. Clothes sat piled and crumpled in the left armchair. He grabbed them and threw them carelessly into a corner.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the now empty chair.

“Thank you,” said Yenni as she slowly sank down into her seat. Weysh plopped into the chair across from her and held up the bottle. “Whisky?”

“Oh . . . no.”

He shrugged and set the bottle down, then picked up his glass. Yenni watched him drink with a hard lump of fear in her throat. Zui and Harth were right. She had never seen Weysh like this.