The Pig and Whistle's patrons were city folk, however, and city folk always kept to themselves-or so Teldin had decided long ago. They'd never offer a greeting, for fear that it would be taken as an invitation to exploit the speaker somehow, or as a challenge. They'd respond to a greeting with either grave surprise-and often a close scrutiny, on the assumption that the speaker was either someone they should know or mentally deranged-or with surliness. As city people held their tongues, so did they control their glances. In Kalaman, a newcomer to a bar would immediately be inspected from crown to toe by the regulars, but there would be no hostility or challenge in the curious stares. In cities or large towns, Teldin had seen, people kept their eyes down and only shot someone a furtive glance if they didn't think they'd be caught at it. So things were in the Pig and Whistle.

There was movement in the doorway. He saw the flash of a profile, then the figure withdrew into the night. Why did that profile look so familiar? He racked his brain for a moment, then the answer came to him. It was Iregimesticus, one of the crewmen that the Probe had acquired from the neogi vessel. What was he doing here? Tregimesticus was one of those who'd adapted least well to freedom. Teldin couldn't imagine the ex-slave showing the initiative to ask for passage to shore, and then to track down a tavern for a drink. He could be wrong, of course… but then why did the man look around the place and leave?

Rianna's return disrupted his train of thought. She sat beside him, pressing the warmth of her hip against his. He immediately discarded thoughts of Tregimesticus for much more interesting considerations.

"Cozy," Rianna remarked. She set two tankards of ale on the table. "Barleycorn's Best Bitter," she announced, "The Resort's finest ale, in my opinion, and that's saying a lot."

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "We'll see about that." He lifted the heavy pewter tankard and took a pull. Served at room temperature, the thick ale had a rich, nutty taste, with an underpinning of smoky sharpness. He let it linger on his tongue, giving the flavor time to develop, then he swallowed. He breathed out through his nose, enjoying the lush aroma. It was similar to the Krynnish ales he was familiar with, but just different enough to make it seem somehow exotic. And, he had to admit, it was excellent. Easily on a par with, if not marginally better than, the local bitters of Kalaman. "Not bad," he said noncommittally, trying to suppress a smile.

Dissembling didn't work with Rianna, though. A warm smile spread across her face. "Admit it," she said, digging him playfully in the ribs with an elbow. "It's excellent. Better than the best on Waypoint, isn't it?"

He looked away from her uncomfortably. I'm lying to her. he told himself. She's befriended me-maybe more-and I'm lying to her. He felt miserable.

She seemed to sense his discomfort and smoothly changed the topic. "I asked the bartender if he knew of any arcane in town," she told him. "You said you needed to meet one. For that kind of information, barkeepers are about the best sources around."

"And?"

She shrugged. "He said he didn't know but promised he'd ask around. We can check back here tomorrow and see if any-thing's come up."

Teldin nodded and took another full swallow of his ale. Again he savored the mouthful, but this time to give himself time to think. There was another subject he had to broach, but he wasn't sure of the best way to do it. Rianna seemed to sense his thoughts. She drank her ale as well, silently watching him and waiting.

"Well, we're in Rauthaven," he said finally, trying to keep his voice light and casual. "What are your plans now? Passage to-where was it?-the Tears of Selune? Another ship and back to work?"

It was Rianna's turn to hesitate for a moment. Her lips moved silently, as though she were rehearsing words that she was uncomfortable about speaking aloud. Her hands twisted in her lap. "I suppose so," she said at last, not looking at him. "That's what I should do." She raised her eyes. Her gaze was intense. "But not yet," she went on, "not for a while. I think… If it's all right with you, I think I'd like to spend some time with you, Aldyn Brewer." She smiled-tentatively, like a child asking for a gift but not expecting it to be given.

He met her gaze and felt for a moment as though he were drowning in the deep green ocean of her eyes. Something seemed to click in Teldin's mind. In an instant, all doubt and indecision vanished, and he knew exactly what he had to do. He stood. "Come on," he told her, taking her arm.

She resisted for a moment. "What's the matter?" she asked quietly. "If I said something wrong, I'm sorry…."

He cut her off with a shake of his head. "You've said nothing wrong," he told her firmly. "It's me that's said something wrong, and I have to correct that. Come on." He drew her to her feet and led her out of the tavern.

Outside the Pig and Whistle, the street was dark, seemingly deserted. Teldin still had a grip on Rianna's arm, and he led her on, away from the main street, the Processional, away from the light spilling from inside the tavern. She didn't resist, but he could reel her confusion, her trepidation. When they were a good dagger cast from the door, sheltered by the darkness, he stopped. He put both hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "Tell me again what you just said," he told her.

Her gaze was steady on his face. "I think I want to spend some time with you, Aldyn Brewer," she repeated softly. There was no tremor in her voice, no trace of doubt. She said it as if she'd been stating some invariant fan of nature.

He shook his head slowly. "You're wrong," he said quietly. "You want to spend time with Aldyn Brewer. You might not want to spend time with me." Her eyes were uncomprehending, so he pressed on. "I'm not Aldyn Brewer. My name is Teldin Moore. I'm not from Waypoint. I'm from Krynn. And…" Here he came to a halt. How could he do what had to follow? How could he show her proof of the ultimate dishonesty? He knew he had to do it-if only because he'd come this far. He took his hands from her shoulders. She must be able to run away if she wants to, he thought. "And," he started again, forcing firmness into his voice, "there's more." He closed his eyes and allowed the false face to fade away. He heard Rianna's sharply indrawn breath and opened his eyes.

Rianna still stood before him. She hadn't backed away, but her eyes were wide and both her hands were at her mouth. He could hear her rapid breathing.

He stood before her, arms at his side, waiting. He wasn't sure exactly what reaction he'd expected: fear, maybe, or more likely anger, but Rianna surprised him.

Tentatively, she reached out a hand toward his face. Her fingers touched his cheek, the line of his jaw. "This is… you?" she asked, a catch in her voice. He nodded. Rianna smiled, a strained, wan smile. "Much more handsome," she murmured, almost too low for Teldin to hear.

"I'm sorry, Rianna," he said softly. "As the gods are my witnesses, I'm sorry."

She shook her head. Her strained smile was still in place. "I knew some of it," she said. "I knew you'd taken a false name. I knew you didn't come from Waypoint, but… this!"

"I'm sorry," he repeated miserably. He knew he should say something else, but he couldn't figure out what.

Rianna shook her head again. She closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. When she opened her eyes again, they were clear. She smiled, and this time it was the strong, warm smile that Teldin knew. "No," she said, her voice steady, too. "No, I'm sorry. You just… shocked me, that was all. I knew you wouldn't have taken a false identity without a good reason." She chuckled.

"In my business, I deal with more false identities than real ones, and I've gotten to the point that I can usually pick out even the best." She prodded him in the ribs with a forefinger. "Yours was far from the best, little chum, but I wasn't going to queer your pitch. If it was necessary for you to be Aldyn Brewer, then I'd spend time with Aldyn Brewer. Did you really think it was your name I enjoyed spending time with? Your shaky stories about coming from Waypoint? Even your face? Were those the only things I was interested in? Rather superficial, wouldn't you say?" Teldin nodded in dumb amazement. "You're none of those things," she went on, "and it's you-what's underneath all the make-believe-that I'm interested in. Do you understand what I'm saying?" "I understand," he muttered.