Aurelle turned to him. Greave, I promise you that I find you the handsomest man in this room, and you are more than that, as well. From what I hear, you are learned, and thoughtful, and kind.

Greave didnt know how to answer that. He strove to be all of those things, because he could not bring himself to add to the cruelty or stupidity of the world. With Aurelles touch on his arm, for a brief moment he felt as though he actually was the things she thought of him.

Now, Aurelle said, have you seen the entertainments yet?

Ive made notes on some of the lutenists techniques, and listened to the playwrights run through their

No, Aurelle said, thats not what I mean. Have you been there, been a part of it?

Greave shook his head. He hadnt wanted to stand there in the middle of a crowd, the only one who still felt alone. Hed also guessed what his father would say if he showed too much of an interest in the players. He would have dismissed it as frivolity or unmanly, or both.

I have always been more at the sides, Greave said.

Not today, Aurelle declared. Her touch on his arm turned into a grip on his wrist, pulling him forward into the crowds of people there. Many of them turned to him and bowed. Some even smiled, and that wasnt something that Greave was used to.

She led the way to a table filled with the lightest of pastries and the finest of wine. She held out a pastry to Greave, and he realized as she did it that he was expected to bite down on it. He did so, because the alternative seemed to be getting it smeared on his face. He swallowed, and was about to complain about the indignity of it when the taste hit him. It was bright, sharp, and sweet, and for once, Greave didnt feel as though the food was about to turn to ash in his mouth.

Thats… Greave didnt know what to say. Amazing.

You have been denying yourself too many pleasures, Aurelle guessed. Or perhaps you just havent had someone to really appreciate them with you.

She passed him wine, and Greave sipped it delicately. He wasnt going to quaff it the way Vars might, wasnt going to turn into something as debauched as him. Yet maybe, just maybe, there was a middle ground. Didnt the philosopher van Greten write, We can enjoy the world in moderation, without it becoming something to be avoided?

It seemed that Aurelle wasnt done with him, because she led the way over to a spot where players were putting on a raucous performance, in which it seemed that an explorer of the southern lands was stumbling into more and more laughable circumstances. Currently, a peasant character seemed to be trying to sell him a donkey, trying to convince him that it was a thoroughbred racehorse.