Arcannen moved over to a nearby bench and sat down. Off to one side, young women enraptured by the teachings of the groundskeeper were bending over a cluster of particularly beautiful bushes with bright crimson leaves and tiny purple berries. The voices of the young women were audible, but too soft to understand. He watched and listened to them until finally they moved on and disappeared from his view.

His gaze shifted to the majestic trees that grew along the far wall of the garden and just inside its walls. White oaks, he decided, perhaps two hundred years old. They were canopied over the extensive grounds beyond. Guards would be on patrol there, chasing off would-be tree and wall climbers, keeping the affairs of the residents of Rare Flowers private.

He allowed himself a moment to recall Arbrox, wishing that none of this were necessary, that the Red Slash and Usurient and Desset had found something else on which to focus their bloodthirsty urges. It would have made things so much easier if he could have remained in the village, a guest of the pirate community, until he was better prepared for a return to the larger world.

The day was sunny and bright, and the air sweet with the smells of flowers and grasses. A light breeze ruffled the plants and the leaves of the trees, and the sorcerer took a moment to close his eyes and breathe it all in.

When he opened them again, a young woman was standing a few yards away, looking at him. She did not attempt to shift her gaze when she realized he was looking back. She kept her eyes fixed on him as if he were the most interesting man she had ever seen. What struck him, besides the fact that she could make him feel that way, was how different she looked. Her hair was a strange toffee color streaked with gold so richly toned that it seemed to flow through her tresses like liquid. She had small, perfect features—the face of a child’s doll. She was tiny, but she had a presence to her even so. A deep green velvet dress, trimmed with silver thread on the cuffs, neckline, and hem, clung to her body, suggesting that she might be something ethereal.

Immediately he was struck by her.

Now, there is what I was talking about …

He left the thought unfinished. She was walking toward him, approaching with clear intent and a strong sense of self-confidence.

She came to a stop in front of him and smiled. “Hello.”

“Hello, young lady,” he answered.

“May I sit?”

He nodded and slid sideways a few inches. She moved to the bench and seated herself carefully, very close to but not touching him. He realized suddenly that his new companion was not a young woman after all, but exactly what her appearance had suggested—a young girl.

“I’m looking for a match,” the girl said, her eyes fixed on his face. “Not a match that would satisfy most women, but one that will satisfy me. I think you might be it.”

He smiled back. “What makes you say that? You know nothing about me at all. I might be here for any reason.”

“Let me test myself. Tell me if I am wrong in what I surmise. You are a sorcerer. You possess great power, but you use it sparingly. You are very smart, but not reckless. You are not happy with your life at the moment, but you think you might be able to change that soon.”

“Very good,” he admitted. “I congratulate you on your perceptiveness. But I am not looking to make a match.”

Her smile did not waver. “Perhaps you are and you don’t realize it. Most men don’t know what they need. Most men don’t even realize the depth of their need. They think of satisfying basic instincts that are shallow and temporary, and that is enough for them. But we don’t believe that at Rare Flowers. We are taught otherwise. Men need a companion who is their equal, and a match in the true sense of the word. They require a someone who can offer strength where they are weakest and support where they most miss it.”

“And what do young girls like yourself require?”

“Security and hope. Kindness and honesty. For young girls like myself, as you put it, a true match is never achieved in hours or days or even years; it is achieved over the course of a lifetime. Commitment is the means by which we attain it. Commitment is a journey that works best when each step taken is carefully measured.”

“Pretty words. How is it that one so young has reached these complex conclusions? You seem very insightful.”

“I am pleased you think so. Would you like to hear my story?”

He was enjoying this. He hoped Corussin wouldn’t resurface right away. “Please. Tell it to me.”

“I am the child of Rovers, a chieftain’s daughter. Not a firstborn child, but one younger. When you are not firstborn, you have little worth in our culture. Mostly, in the eyes of our parents, we serve as marriage material. My father sought to match me with a rug seller in exchange for a few of his wares and some gold. I decided not to agree, so he threw me out. I took my leave of him and of my people and set out for the Southland. I quickly discovered how difficult it is for a girl of fifteen to make her way in the world. A few hard lessons and a few narrow escapes followed, and six months ago I found myself on the doorstep of Rare Flowers, asking Corussin for a place. I was taken in. I learned the things I needed to know fairly quickly. Now I search for a match. But the men with whom I have interviewed have failed to measure up to my requirements.”

She was bold to tell him this, making her offer of a match more like a challenge than a request. But he had already decided she knew more than she was letting on. No one this young could be anywhere near as prescient as she seemed to be. She was Corussin’s choice; the proprietor of Rare Flowers must have had her in mind all along. Now he had dispatched her to him, wanting her to demonstrate how clever and manipulative she could be. He would have told her about him first, of course, giving her just enough information to act on when she found him. But it was no coincidence that she was here.

Still, he admired her greatly and thought she might do.

“What if I were to offer you a temporary match with someone besides myself?” he asked. “I would take you with me and pay you very well for your time and trouble.”

She shook her head. “I am not interested in anyone else. I am interested in you.”

“But I told you I am not looking for a match.”

“And I told you that sometimes men don’t know what they are looking for. I suggest that you reconsider.”

He was perplexed. He had expected her to jump at his offer. She was staring at him with frank but unyielding determination. She was not going to back down, he realized.

“You are too young for me,” he tried. “I am more than twice your age. I would be old and useless before you reached your prime. You require a younger man.”

“I require what is suitable for me. Age has nothing to do with it. I am searching for the man who will complement me as I intend to complement him. You are that man.”

His patience slipped. “Corussin put you up to this, didn’t he? This is meant to demonstrate your talents. Very well. You have done that. I accept that you have demonstrated your capabilities. You are exactly who I am looking for. But stop pretending you want me.”

The girl’s face darkened. “I have no idea what you are talking about. Corussin has nothing to do with my coming to you. I saw you earlier, standing in front of the building. I watched you meet with him and then come into Rare Flowers and retire to the back rooms. I took your measure all the while, making up my mind. When I saw you come out into the gardens, I decide to approach you with my offer.”

Arcannen was stunned. Could she be telling the truth? Did she really know nothing of his purpose in coming to Rare Flowers? Had Corussin not spoken to her?

“How do you see our time together?” he asked impulsively. “What would you and I do?”