He hesitated, his eyes closed, thinking, No, not a dream. More. I deserve as much. He tried to think of what might make the Stone People weep, odd as that might seem.
No, not a dream. More. I deserve as much.He opened his eyes and the door and saw, for just long enough to blink, the common room of the tavern below. The royal messenger’s gaudily-liveried servant looked up at him from the bottom of the stairs, bored, then walked across the crowded common room to order a drink.
Again moonlight dazzled the Exile’s eyes, and he was climbing in the cold wind. Sekenre climbed with him, a little above, at least until Sekenre slipped and fell down into the Exile’s arms. The older (was he really?) man caught him. The boy (could he still be called a boy?) trembled, frigid to the touch. The Exile wr
