"Talen," he said. "You must call me Talen."

"Muffin," she said and smiled her huge smile. She was missing a few teeth. And while he could see no long hairs growing from the large mole on her cheek, he could see a distinct shadow of a mustache.

Talen shook his head. She'd called him Muffin Bunny ever since she'd caught him that one time.

Then she straightened and said something.

Talen couldn't understand her. She spoke like she had a severe sore throat. "What?"

"I had a man call. Da made a good bargain."

At least that's what he thought she said. A man called for Elan?

"Really?"

"I a strong worker," she said. "I better than a watchdog with babies. I not some cheap servant."

"I'm sure," said Talen.

"He paid gold."

Who would pay gold for Elan? It didn't make sense. She was not bright, but maybe she was indeed a hard worker. Life had many simple tasks. Maybe the best deal the glass master could get was to sell her as a servant. He wondered: would the purchaser treat her kindly?

"I hope it goes well for you," said Talen.

"Muffin Bunny," she said. "You wet."

Then Atra called Elan.

"He here!" Elan shouted back.

Talen turned and saw Atra walk down a path that led from the back door of the house. She was wearing a sky blue, sleeveless surcoat. The armholes were huge and showed her bright red tunic underneath. The effect with her black hair was stunning.

Talen's heart jumped. He took a breath. His hair was sopping wet, so he released the thong that held his long hair together, smoothed back as much water as he could, and quickly retied it.

By the time he finished, Atra stood next to Elan.

She looked at Talen with a sad smile then said, "Elan, you're not done inside yet."

"I found him," said Elan. "I found him, Atty."

"Elan," said Atra a bit more forcefully.

Elan sniggered then walked back to the house. Before she went inside, she shouted out, "Atra told me a secret!"

Atra only rolled her eyes.

Elan was a half-wit, but she had clearly enough wit to tease her sister. Talen smiled. There was more to Elan than he had suspected.

Atra waved at Nettle.

"A secret?" asked Talen.

Atra shrugged. "Don't listen to her.

"How's the captain's son?" she called out with some tease and walked toward Nettle.

"Loafing," he said.

Atra wore working clothes. The sky blue of the surcoat was from woad, not the expensive mollusk blue. And the red was not the scarlet of the grain, but something else. Beautiful but practical.

Talen looked at Atra's smooth cheeks and nose. He looked for a pimple, and saw none. How was such skin possible?

His father had once told Ke how to look at a beautiful woman and still keep your wits straight. "Look her right between the eyes."

"Oh, that's good," Ke had said. "I'll be staring at her cross-eyed. That's sure to impress her."

"No, you won't," said Da. "Look at me. You can't tell I'm looking at your nose, can you?"

"Cross-eyed," said Ke.

"I am not."

"Are."

"Am not."

They had argued until Da finally chased Ke out into the pasture.

"Atra," Talen said.

She stopped and glanced back at him.

Nothing bespoke confidence more than the eyes. Talen wasn't going to appear to be the shy little boy Nettle talked about, so Talen looked her right in the eye.

He promptly forgot what he was going to say. All that came into his mind was Nettle's line about breeding. The silence stretched on a bit too long.

"The sun burns brightly," he finally said. "And so does your face."

He had known it was stupid before he'd said it, but couldn't help himself.

She looked at him quizzically, then came that sad smile again.

"Yes, very hot," Talen said.

Nettle laughed then tried to cover it with a cough.

"You two dare to travel alone?" she asked.

"Yes," Talen said. "Actually, my Da was summoned to the Council. We're on our way back."

Now was when he could use one of River's helpful questions.

"We heard about the creature coming for that woman," said Atra. "To think she's loose again. My da hopes the Skir Master mounts a hunt the likes of which has never been seen. When he does, Da will volunteer to fetch the crows that will pick her head to a nub."

"Oh?" said Talen.

"Yes, he's been quite affected by this whole thing. You wouldn't know anything about this, would you?"

He could feel that something had shifted between them. When he'd last seen her, it seemed the stars and moon and torchlight had danced in her eyes and smile. All that was gone.

He thought about the two hatchlings.

"What do I know?" he said. "Nothing. Except that this woman should be brought to justice. Tell me what you've heard."

Atra began to talk. He hoped she was an irrigation ditch because that's the only topic he could remember to bring up and because he hoped that her talking would simply fix whatever had happened between them.

Atra went on to repeat many of the same rumors Talen had heard today. He nodded and added a comment here or there, but mostly he just let her talk.

She was definitely an irrigation ditch.

Or maybe she wasn't. Maybe "tell me" was one of those helpful questions. Thank the Creators he'd stumbled on it.

As she talked Talen looked at her eyes. He concentrated on them. He noticed that they were not all of one color. There was a darker ring of brown inside a lighter one. Talen wondered if that's what perhaps made them so beautiful. But he decided against it. It was more their size and the loveliness of her brow.

Then Talen realized she had just said something and he had no idea what it was.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I fear the new baker puts more than flour and honey in his cookies. What did you say?" Da was right. She'd gone from Sleth to something else and he'd missed the whole journey looking into her eyes.

She shook her head. "I said that it seems Koramites are out of favor."

"Well, not all Koramites I hope."

Her mouth was drawn in a line of disappointment. Had she just told him he was unwelcome? His heart began to sink.

"You can't judge a whole people by the actions of a few."

"No," she said. "But some people do."

Then she changed the subject. "Would you like to see my new saddle?"

"I'll gladly view anything you want to show me."

She looked at him oddly.

"Anything having to do with saddles," he said.

The humor he knew her for flashed across her face, but then faded. He needed another helpful question. He couldn't quite believe, didn't want to believe she'd said what she had about Koramites. Maybe she wouldn't lump him in that group because he was going to be part of the Shoka.

"Tell me about your saddle."

Atra turned to Nettle. "Does the loafing captain want to see a saddle?"

"Naw," he said. "One saddle is pretty much like the other."

He gave Talen a look then. Nettle was trying to buoy him up and tell him that he should take his fish elsewhere.

"Suit yourself." She turned to Talen. "This way," she said and led him to the back of the stable. It wasn't proper for a boy and girl of courting age to be alone. But Talen decided they weren't really alone, they were just going to look at a saddle. Nor were they courting. Besides, Nettle was in the yard. They would come right back out.

She laid her hand on one of the finest saddles he had ever seen. It had silver trim worked around the edges. The leather had been dyed black. The many tassels of green and scarlet all ended in a bead of silver. The horse blanket was indigo blue.

Talen felt the smooth surface. "It's perfect." Her horse was black and well-muscled. It was such a magnificent saddle. Atra told him about the quality of the silver, which required frequent polishing, and showed him the fine stitching of the leatherwork.

He wondered if he would ever be able to afford such a saddle. He might. But it wouldn't be enough. That was the way of fine things. You couldn't just purchase one. You had to purchase sets and pairs. A fine blanket to go with a fine bridle to go with a fine saddle for a fine horse. Fine horse combs. And fine servants to take care of the whole lot. He could work all his life to have the wealth contained in only the glass master's stable.

Better to be plain than servant to such a master.

"You're a graceful rider, Atra. You'll look stunning at the races."

She smiled. "You won a number of contests at the dance."

Talen had won nothing. There hadn't been any contests. "I don't remember receiving any prize."

"It wasn't a public contest. Just among us girls."

What was she talking about?

"We rated you all during the King's March."

The King's March was a dance that only the men performed.

"A prize for hair, one for shoulders, for hands, for eyes, one for every significant part."

"That sounds like a lot of prizes," said Talen.

"You took one," she said.

So perhaps she was simply tired. Perhaps that explained her demeanor. This was going far better than he had ever hoped. "So what is my claim?"

He waited and when she didn't speak, he asked, "You're not going to tell me?"

"Talen, things have changed. You should probably not come around anymore."

She said it with kindness, but his discomfort at her rejection left him fumbling for a response. "Because of this," he said and motioned to his clothing. He knew that wasn't the reason why, but what else could he say? He tried a jest. "Next time, I'll dress down for the occasion."

"Talen," she said.

"What's going on here?"