“Why don’t you get married again?” asked Toli.

Yeseph suddenly looked flustered. “Who has been talking to you?”

“No one. I merely wondered.”

“Well, it is true nonetheless. That is what I wanted to tell you. I am to be married. I am announcing the banns tonight.”

“Congratulations!” shouted Quentin, jumping to his feet. He crossed the distance between himself and his former teacher in one bound and embraced him, kissing both cheeks.

“Who is the lucky bride?”

“It is Karyll, the cloth-maker.”

“The widow of Lendoe, who was killed in the accident at the forge some years ago.”

“Yes, the same. A fine woman. She has been lonely for so long…”

Quentin laughed. “You need not explain to us; you have our permission already. I am sure you will both be very happy together.”

“Yes, we shall. I am very happy now-sharing this news with my friends. You know I have come to regard you both as my own sons.”

“Certainly, you have been both teacher and father to us more times than we can remember.”

“So it is fitting that you are the first to know.”

“Will the honored woman be here tonight? I would wish to congratulate her as well.”

“She will be here-if that is not her voice I hear even now.”

The sound of light voices lifted in laughter came to the courtyard from the street beyond. Yeseph dashed to the gate once more and welcomed his bride and her two companions. Blushing and smiling, he led her toward Quentin and Toli, who stood grinning.

“My friends, this is my betrothed, Karyll.”

The short, round-faced woman smiled warmly back at them. Her hair was bound demurely at her neck in an ornamented netting, and among the brown Quentin could see streaks of silver. She was dressed in a plain white, loose-fitting gown with a bright blue shawl over her shoulders. She was a handsome woman.

As Yeseph drew her close to him with his arm, he gave his future wife a look of such endearment that Quentin felt a pang of longing for his own beloved.

“Hello, Karyll, and congratulations. Yeseph has been telling us that you two are to be married. I am very pleased.”

“Thank you, Quentin. We are very happy.” She turned and gazed into Yeseph’s eyes and added, “Yeseph is full of your praises. It pleases me that he has chosen you to hear of our plans first.”

“When will the wedding take place?” asked Toli.

“Yeseph and I thought that a midsummer wedding would be nice.”

“Yes,” agreed the groom. “There is really nothing to prevent us being married at once. We are both of age.” He laughed and Karyll laughed with him. But the laughter faded when Yeseph saw that neither Quentin nor Toli shared their mirth. Both had become strangely silent; the light of happiness was extinguished in their eyes.

“What is the matter? Does our plan not meet with your approval?”

“Yes, and more than you know. But I fear that we will not be among the happy wedding guests.”

“Why not, may I ask?”

“We were going to tell you this evening. We have received a summons from the King, and we must leave for Askelon.”

“Yes, I know… in a few weeks, but…”

“No-at once. A rider came today. We must leave at once.”

“Then we will wait until you return,” offered Yeseph. Karyll nodded her agreement

Quentin smiled sadly. “No, I could not ask that. I do not know when we may return. Please, do not wait on our account,”

Toli attempted to set the mood in a lighter tone. “Kenta means that if he were in your place, Yeseph, he would not let so lovely a creature escape into the arms of another. You must marry as you have planned. We will return to greet the happy couple before they have been wed a fortnight.”

Yeseph sought Quentin’s eyes. He, as usual, could read more there than his friend intended. “Is it trouble, then?”

“I fear that it is,” Quentin sighed. “The message did not say it directly, and the courier did not say more. But he left immediately without awaiting an answer.”

Yeseph regarded Quentin as he stood before him. From an awkward, impetuous youth had grown a square-shouldered, sensitive man-tall, lean in the way young men are, yet without the careless air they often have. Quentin had a regal bearing, and yet utterly lacked any self-consciousness of it, or the arrogance that often accompanied such a noble spirit.

A pang of longing ached in the old man’s heart when he saw his young pupil and protйgй wavering, as if on the brink of a great abyss. He wanted to reach out and pull him back, but he knew he could not. Quentin belonged to Dekra, yes. But he also belonged to Askelon, and neither loyalty could he deny.

“You must go, of course.” Yeseph offered a strained smile. “When will you leave?”

“Tomorrow at dawn. I think it best.”

“Of course. Of course. Do not delay. Besides, the sooner you are off, the sooner you may return, and perhaps you will bring Bria with you this time.”

At the mention of the name, Quentin started. He smiled warmly again. The cold shadow which had fallen upon the happy group moved away, and in the glimmering of a softly falling twilight they began to talk excitedly once more of all they would do when next they met.

Despite their desire for an early start the next morning, Quentin and Toli were the last to leave Yeseph’s house. There had been much singing and eating and talking. The Elders had blessed the young men’s journey, and all had listened to stories and songs of the lost Ariga sung by one of the young Curatak musicians. Then all had made their good-byes, but none more ardently than did Quentin.

“Look, Kenta,” said Toli as they found their way along the dark and empty streets. The moon shone full upon the city, pouring out a liquid silver light upon all it touched.

Quentin followed Toli’s gaze upward toward the sky. “What do you see?”

“Oh, it is gone now. A star fell, that is all.”

“Hmmm.” Quentin retreated again into his reverie.

He listened to their footsteps echo along the streets and felt Dekra’s quiet peacefulness enfold him. Then, unaccountably, he shivered, as if they had just walked through a hanging pool of cooler air. Toli noticed the quiver of Quentin’s shoulders and looked at his friend.

“Did you feel it too?”

Quentin ignored the question, and they continued on a few more paces. “Do you think we will ever return to this place?” he asked finally.

“The night is not a time to dwell on such things.”

The two walked silently back to the governor’s palace and made their way to their rooms. “It will be good to see Askelon again,” said Quentin as they parted. “And all our friends. Good night.”

“Good night. I will wake you in the morning.”

For a long time Quentin lay on his bed and did not close his eyes. He heard Toli quietly packing their things in the next room, and the Jher’s soft footfall as he left to see to the horses before he, too, slept. At last he rolled over on his side and fell at once to sleep as the moon shone brightly through his balcony doors, peering in like a kindly face.