"All right, I give Sanctuary my blessing-"

"From the rock "

She seated herself on the first stone and made a show of clearing her throat "I give Sanctuary my blessing," she repeated A gust of wind carried dust into her eyes, that, and the back-lighting sun made it impos- sible to see him clearly "Let its people live m peace Let its governors rule wisely Let its walls be strong and its stewpots full.

"There, is that more like it7" she demanded, squinting into the sun

"You forgot love "

"Right, husbands love wives, wives love children, children . . oh, children love whoever they want "

"It's a start," the unlikely shepherd confirmed "Mighty trees and the like. Are you thirsty9"

He unslung a wineskin and offered it to her Thinking he meant to embarrass her, Illyra took it Not that many townswomen could aim the bladder and catch the stream without covering themselves with wine She could She'd learned to drink from a skin-and not from a borrowed vision, either It was one of the very few things her father had taught her The wine wasn't half bad a bit tamnc, perhaps, but not local She caught a last drop and handed the skin back to him, smiling like a well-fed cat

"Thank you," she said and noted with some satisfaction that she'd surprised him with her skill

He tipped the wineskin up and maneuvered himself beneath it so his back was almost touching her and he, too, faced the sun Illyra couldn't imagine why he twisted around that way, when it was apt to make him miss his aim Wine spurted past his ear, landing on the red stone

"Watch what you're doing," she snapped, hastily lifting her skirt out of the way as she spoke

But he squeezed the skin again and left a goodly stain across the worn inscription before adjusting his arms and getting a decent mouthful of wine Odd that a warrior, or a shepherd for that matter, would be so clumsy with the wine Hard, even, to believe it had been an accident- especially when she caught him looking back at her and grinning

"Out of practice," he said, and she did not believe him at all

"I'd best be leaving It's getting late I live

Illyra hesitated and thought better of telling him where she lived, not that her heart believed it would help her if this stranger took it into his head to pay her and Dubro a visit. She slid carefully from the stone, avoiding him as much as the wine, and put the substantial remains of her lunch in the shawl-sling It seemed prudent to back away from the stone. He was still gnnmng when her heel touched the path, then he laughed and she shot through the gate.

In truth it wasn't that late, barely past midaftemoon, and she hadn't intended to return to the Bazaar before sundown The day was still pleas- antly warm, and there wouldn't be many more like this until the next spring She might still wander along the General's Road and headed that way-back through the forecourt and along the Governor's Walk

Haakon the vendor was prowling his afternoon route, singing a song of nutmeats and pastry. Despite the food she'd eaten and the food she ear- ned, they made her mouth water.

"Copper bit," the vendor said when she started to approach him, then, when he finally recognized her, added in a much softer voice, "for two "

Ulyra smiled and gave him the battered coin she'd received in the morning. Because she'd bought two, he wrapped the second one m a scrap of translucent parchment and tucked it into the folds of her shawl

"Delicious," she confirmed, biting into the sweet and savory confec- tion

"Best to share "

He meant to share with Dubro but the face that came into her mind was Suyan She wondered if the wet nurse had ever even tasted one of these uptown luxuries Not likely Suyan claimed she had grown up Downwind, though Walegnn had found her in a Shambles house Illyra imagined the look on Suyan's face when she bit through the still-warm pastry shell to the nutmeats within She changed direction and hurried along the street to the Bazaar

The forge was empty but before Illyra could become concerned she heard Trevya crying and ran the last little way

"I brought you a pastry," she announced as she pushed through the curtain

Suyan smiled but it was almost lost amid her unsuccessful efforts to quiet the infant

"Here, I'll hold her They really taste best when they're warm "

She picked the child up and found, not surprisingly, that she fit snugly into the crook of her arm and that she remembered how to rock her arms a bit and wiggle a finger or two as a distraction. And as Illyra's fingers were shiny with butter and nutmeats, Trevya found them fascinating. She pulled them into her mouth and sucked contentedly. Illyra felt the sharp ridge of the tooth that had caused this latest round of wailing.

"She's getting her milk teeth."

Suyan gulped a mouthful of pastry. "Not milk teeth, I'll warrant?" Another of her lilting questions, but this one came with a furtive smile,

"Not milk teeth then. She'll soon be ready for gruel and a bit of por- ridge in the morning, I used to like to make porridge-especially in winter."

The happiness in Suyan's face wavered. Illyra could almost see her

thinking of where she'd been before they'd brought her to the forge.

"We'll still need someone to take care of her. I'm S'danzo, not ..." Illyra hesitated, wondering why she'd been about to say she wasn't Trevya's mother. Neither was Suyan, for that matter. And other S'danzo women had children underfoot all the time. "Well, Trevya should have someone watching her all the time," she decided after a puzzling mo- ment. "It's dangerous here, with the forge. Not like some other places where the worst that could happen is a bumped knee."

The tension left Suyan in a great sigh. She ate the rest other pastry but left the baby in Illyra's arms- They talked then, in the afternoon light, as they had never talked before, though not about anything of importance. They talked about the foods Dubro liked, and the ones he didn't; and the bolts of brightly colored cloth that had just arrived in a caravan from Croy; and whether the journeyman had a wife in his future.

Illyra stole a look at the future, then shook her head. "I can't See a thing," she murmured and remembered what she had said out on the rock. For a heartbeat her blood went cold. He had tricked her. That strange man who was not a shepherd had tricked her into casting an unprecedented curse over Sanctuary: a S'danzo blessing. Not that there was such a thing as a S'danzo blessing. "Everyone's a child, one way or another-"

"I didn't hear you?"

Suyan leaned closer but Illyra did not repeat herself. She was, after all, only one S'danzo and Sanctuary was Sanctuary and not likely to change very much no matter what she did. But she would have to, if she ever saw him again, thank the shepherd for setting her free, at least.

Someone is always awake in Sanctuary especially when others are sleeping.

-Universal absolute

When she saw that he had wakened, she returned to the bed, mostly dressed but not quite. She bent down, exotically pale hair streaming long, to brush the top of his nose with her lips.

"We fell asleep," she told him. "I've got to go! It's terribly late."

Lazily, muzzily, he lifted a hand to try to capture a dangling lobe of her chest as she bent. She straightened swiftly with a little chuckle and finished closing her latch-front tunic.

"Awww ..." he began, lazy-muzzy, and the sound slid off into a yawn.

She started for the door. He saw her pause, lift a hand to her temple, up under the newly silvered hair she had combed partially free of the tangles the two of them had put in it. She turned back. Moonlight admit- ted by the open window let him see that she was frowning.

"My earrings," she murmured, hurrying back to the little table beside the bed.

A moment later: "Darling? Didn't I put my earrings right here? They're-they're gone!"

"Muss've dropped 'em on th' floor," he said without concern, and yawned again.

Watching her, smiling a little, remembering. Watching her go to her knees beside the bed in her search was fun, and he entertained a little fantasy about that.

"They're not here, Cusher! Please get up and help me. Could you light the lamp? Those are good eardrops!"

Eight or nine minutes later the bedclothes were on the floor and they had even searched his abandoned clothing, lest her missing dangles of gold and jade and topaz had somehow gotten entangled in the attire he had hurriedly dropped to the floor, hours ago. By then she was sobbing and babbling about how the baubles had been gifts from her grand- mother, years and years ago.

At last Imaya-the lady Imaya Rennsdaughter, if truth must be told- gave it up and left. By now fully as awake as she, Cusharlain latched the door after her.

A better man would escort her home, he mused. Down to the street, at least. Absently scratching his thigh, he realized that he was still naked. He regarded his clothes, forlornly strewing the floor. Then, one eyebrow up, he looked at the window. Of course it was open, but after all! It wasn't as if this room was on the first floor!

Naked, he padded to the window and looked out. He saw nothing; only other buildings and the dark alleys and streets among them; only Sanctuary, tired and snoozing in the moonlight. He looked down, then, down three flights, leaning out a bit with his hands on the sill, and then up. A little shiver ran over him and he ignored it. He twisted his head to cast thoughtful glances to either side.

Cusharlain straightened, sighing. "Damn," he muttered aloud.

This room was inaccessible save by the locked door, and it had still been locked when she'd thought to check it while he shook the bedsheet for the third time. He remembered the same as she did. After one of those pretty earrings had pricked his arm during their horizontal em- brace, she had removed them both. He had watched because he liked the way her bare breasts moved when she lifted her arms to her ears. He had seen her; she had laid them on the little table right there, just beside her side of the bed.

And we made love, and drifted off, he mused, staring at the open win- dow. And while we were sleeping someone came in that window and took those earrings, not to mention what I chose not to tell her: the moneypouch sewn into my leggings! Except that no one in Sanctuary could possibly do such a thing. No one's good enough.