“Then talk to Alondo.”
“He acts for a living. Why would he give up the plum role?”
“I don’t know, because you tricked him? Because you convinced him? Rumor has it you took some lessons in being tricky and convincing.”
“Yeah, but … he’s a decent enough fellow. It’s not like yanking Jasmer around. Feels wrong.”
“Then listen here, my friend. I’m not an oracle and I’m not going to turn into one no matter how long you sit there crying in your beer. You know I used to think that the Sanzas were the biggest annoyance around? I was wrong. Until you and Sabetha get your shit together, they’re the least of all possible evils.”
“She’s just so gods-damned inscrutable.”
“You were talking to her before, right?”
“Yeah. It was going well. Now it’s all strange.”
“Have you considered extreme, desperate measures like talking to her again?”
“Yeah, but, well …”
“You’ve yeah-butyour way to this point,” said Jean. “You’re going to yeah-butthis mess until it’s time to go home, and I don’t doubt you’ll yeah-buther out of your life. Quit circling at a distance. Go talk to her, for Preva’s sake.”
“Where is she?”
“She sneaks up to the roof when the rest of us are down here making idiots of ourselves.”
“She won’t … I dunno, it’s not that it’s—”
“Reach between your legs,” growled Jean, “and find some balls, or you do notget to speak to me on the subject of her for the rest of the summer.”
“I’m sorry,” said Locke. “I just hate the thought of screwing things up worse than they are. You know I’ve got talents in that direction.”
“Ha. Indeed. Try being direct and honest. I can’t give you any more specific advice. When the hell have Iever charmed my way under anyone’s dress, hmm? All I know is that if you and Sabetha don’t reach some understanding we’re all going to regret it. But you most of all.”
“You’re right.” Locke took a deep, steadying breath. “You’re right!”
“Pretty routinely,” sighed Jean. “Are you going?”
“Absolutely.”
“Not with that beer, you’re not. Give it over.”
Locke did so with an absentminded air, and Jean drained the cup in one gulp.
“Okay,” he said. “Go! Before your so-called better judgment has a chance to wake back up. Wait, that’s not the way up. Where the hell are you going?”
“Just back to the bar,” said Locke. “I have a bright idea.”
6
LANGUID, THICK-AIRED evening had come down on Espara, and the city lights were flicking to life beneath a sky the color of harvest grapes. Mistress Gloriano’s crooked gables concealed a little balcony, westward-facing, where two people could sit side by side, assuming they were on good terms. Locke eased the balcony hatch open carefully, peered out, and found Sabetha staring directly at him with eyebrows raised. She lowered her copy of The Republic of Thieves.
“Hi,” said Locke, much less confidently than he’d imagined he would as he’d climbed the little passage from the second floor. “Can I, ah, share your balcony for a little while?”
“I was going over my part.”
“You expect me to believe you don’t already have the whole thing memorized?”
It was as though she couldn’t decide whether to be pleased or exasperated. Locke knew the expression well. After a moment, she set her book down and beckoned him out. He sat down cross-legged, as she was, and they faced one another.
“What’s behind your back?” she said.
“A small kindness.” He showed her the wineskin and two small clay cups he’d been concealing. “Or a bribe. Depending on how you look at it.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“If I’d been worried about thirst, I’d have brought you water. I was worried about knives.”
“Knives?”
“Yeah, the ones you’ve had out for a few days now. I was hoping to sort of dull the edges.”
“Isn’t that rather knavish? Plying a girl with drink?”
“In this case it’s more like self-defense. And I did sort of think you might just … like a cup of wine.”
“And then perhaps a second? And a third, and so on, until my inhibitions were sufficiently elastic?”
“I didn’t deserve that.”
“Yes, well … perhaps not.”
“Gods, I forgot that anyone who wants to be nice to youhas to get permission in advance and wear heavy armor.” Biting his lip, Locke poured the pale wine carelessly, and slid one of the cups toward her. “Look, you can pretend it just appeared there by magic if it makes you happy.”
“Is that Anjani orange wine?”
“If it’s Anjani my ass is made of gold,” said Locke, sipping from his cup. “But it was some kind of orange, once upon a time.”
“And what miracle are you trying to coax out of me, exactly?”
“Simple conversation? What’s happened, Sabetha? We were talking, actually talking. It was … it was really nice. And we worked well together! But now you snap for no reason. You find excuses to cut me dead. You keep throwing up these walls, and even when I climb them, I find you’ve dug moats on the other side—”
“You’re crediting me with an extraordinary degree of industry,” she said, and Locke was delighted to see the tiniest hint of a smirk on her lips, though it vanished between breaths. “Maybe I’m preoccupied with the play.”
“Oh look,” said Locke. “Now the moat is full of spikes. Also, I don’t believe you.”
“That’s your problem.”
“What do you have to gain by not talking to me?”
“Maybe I just don’t want to—”
“But you did,” said Locke. “You did, and we were getting somewhere. Do you really want to spend the rest of our stay here doing this stupid dance back and forth? I don’t.”
“It’s not so much a dance, though, is it?” she said, softly.
“No,” said Locke. “You’re the one that keeps stepping back. Why?”
“It’s not easy to explain.”
“If it was, an idiot like me would have figured the answer out already. Can I sit beside you?”
“ That’sputting the cart before the horse.”
“The horse is tired and needs a break. Come on, it’ll make it easier to hit me if you don’t like what I have to say.”
After a pause that seemed to last about ten years, she turned to look out over the city and patted the stone beside her. Locke slid over, eagerly but carefully, until his left shoulder was touching her right. The warm wind stirred around them, and Locke caught the faint scents of musk and sage oil from her hair. A thousand fluttering things burst to life in his stomach and immediately found reasons to run all over the place.
“You’re trembling,” she said, actually turning to look at him.
“You’re not exactly a statue yourself.”
“Are you going to try to make me not regret this, or are you just going to sit there staring?”
“I like staring at you,” said Locke, shocked and pleased at his own refusal to turn from her gaze.
“Well, I like heaving boys off rooftops. It’s not a habit I get to indulge often enough.”
“That wouldn’t get rid of me. I know how to land softly.”
“Gods damnit, Locke, if you’ve got something you want to say—”
“I do,” he said, steadying himself as though for the incoming swing of a wooden training baton. “I, uh, I’m tired of talking behind my hands and dropping hints and trying to trick some sort of reaction out of you. These are my cards on the table. I think you’re beautiful. I feel like I’m an idiot with dirt on his face sitting next to someone out of a painting. I think … I think I’m just plain stupid for you. I know that’s not exactly sweet talk out of a play. Frankly, I’d kiss your shadow. I’d kiss dirt that had your heel print in it. I likefeeling this way. I don’t give a damn what you or anyone else thinks … this is how it feels every time I look at you.