He leaned forward and stared down into his cup. There were no omens in the coffee. He had to talk to her. "It's all been nice tonight," he said. "Like Avalon."

When she murmured, agreeing yet again, he continued. "Is there anything left, Gwen?"

She regarded him levelly and sipped at her coffee. "Not a fair question, Dirk, you know that. There is always something left. If what you had was real to begin with. If not, well, then it doesn't matter. But if it was real, then something, a chunk of love, a cup of hate, despair, resentment, lust. Whatever. But something."

"I don't know," Dirk t'Larien said, sighing. His eyes looked down and inward. "Maybe you're the only reality I've had, then."

"Sad," she said.

"Yes," he said. "I guess." His eyes came up. "I've got a lot left, Gwen. Love, hate, resentment, all of that. Like you said. Lust." He laughed.

She only smiled. "Sad," she said again.

He was not willing to let it go. "And you? Something, Gwen?"

"Yes. Can't deny it. Something. And it's been growing, off and on." "Love?" "You're pressing," she said gently, setting down her cup. The robowaiter at her elbow filled it again, already creamed and spiced. "I asked you not to."

"I have to," he said. "Hard enough to be so close to you, and talk about Worlorn or Kavalar customs or even hunters. That's not what I want to talk about!"

"I know. Two old lovers standing together talking. That's a common situation and a common strain. Both of them afraid, not knowing whether to try to open old gates again, not knowing if the other one wants them to reawaken those sleeping thoughts or let them go. Every time I think a thought of Avalon and almost say it, I wonder, Does he want me to talk about it or is he praying that I won't?"

"I suppose that depends on what you were going to say. Once I tried to start it all again. Remember? Just afterwards. I sent you my whisperjewel. You never answered, never came." His voice was even, with a faint tinge of reproach and regret, but no anger. Somehow he had lost his anger, just for now.

"Did you ever think why?", Gwen said. "I got the jewel and cried. I was still alone then, hadn't met Jaan yet, and I wanted someone so badly. I would have gone back to you if you'd called me."

"I did call you. You didn't come."

A grim smile. "Ah, Dirk. The whisperjewel came in a small box, and taped to it was a note. 'Please,' the note said, 'come back to me now. I need you, Jenny.' That was what it said. I cried and cried. If you'd only written 'Gwen,' if you'd only loved Gwen, me. But no, it was always Jenny, even afterwards, even then."

Dirk remembered, and winced. "Yes," he admitted after a short silence. "I guess I did write that. I'm sorry. I never understood. But I do now. Is it too late?"

"I said so. In the woods. Too late, Dirk, it's all dead. You'll hurt us if you press."

"All dead? You said something was left, and growing. Just now you said it. Make up your mind, Gwen. I don't want to hurt you, or me. But I want-" "I know what you want. It can't be. It's gone."

"Why?" he asked. He pointed across the table at her bracelet. "Because of that? Jade-and-silver forever and ever, is that it?"

"Maybe," she said. Her voice faltered, uncertain. "I don't know. We… that is, I…"

Dirk remembered all the things that Ruark had told him. "I know it's not easy to talk about," he said carefully, gently. "And I promised to wait. But some things can't wait. You said Jaan is your husband, right? What is Garse? What does betheyn mean?"

"Heldwife," she said. "But you don't understand. Jaan is different than other Kavalars, stronger and wiser and more decent. He is changing things, he alone. The old ties, of betheyn to highbond, our ties are not like that. Jaan doesn't believe that, no more than he believes in hunting mockmen."

"He believes in High Kavalaan," Dirk said, "and in code duello. Maybe he's atypical, but he's still a Kavalar."

It was the wrong thing to say. Gwen only grinned at him and rallied. "Pfui," she said. "Now you sound like Arkin."

"Do I? Maybe Arkin is right, though. One other thing. You say Jaan doesn't believe in many of the old ways, right?" Gwen nodded.

"Fine. What about Garse, then? I haven't had as much a chance to talk to him. Garse is equally enlightened, no doubt?"

That stopped her. "Garse…" she began. She stopped and shook her head dubiously. "Well, Garse is more conservative."

"Yes," said Dirk. Suddenly he seemed to have it all. "Yes, I think he is, and that's a big part of your problem, isn't it? On High Kavalaan it's not man and woman. No, it's man and man and maybe woman, but even then she's not so terribly important. You may love Jaan, but you don't care for Garse Janacek all that damn much, do you?" "I feel a lot of affection for-"

"Do you?"

Gwen's face went hard. "Stop it," she said.

Her voice frightened him. He drew back, suddenly and sickeningly aware of the way he had been leaning across the table, pressing, pushing, jabbing, attacking, and taunting her, he who had come to care and to help. "I'm sorry," he blurted.

Silence. She was staring at him, her lower lip trembling, while she drew herself together and gathered strength. "You're right," she finally said. "Partly, anyway. I'm not… well… not entirely happy with my lot." She gave a forced ironic chuckle. "I guess I fool myself a lot. A bad idea, fooling yourself. Everyone does it, though, everyone. I wear the jade-and-silver and tell myself I'm more than a heldwife, more than other Kavalar women. Why? Just because Jaan says so? Jaan Vikary is a good man, Dirk, really he is, in many ways the best man I have ever known. I did love him, maybe I still do. I don't know. I'm very confused right now. But whether I love him or not, I owe him. Debt and obligation, those are the Kavalar bonds. Love is only something Jaan picked up on Avalon, and I'm not quite sure he's mastered it yet, either. I would have been his teyn, if I could. But he already had a teyn. Besides, not even Jaan would go that far against the customs of his world. You heard what he said about the duels-and all because he searched some old computer banks and found out one of their Kavalar folk heroes had tits." She smiled grimly. "Imagine what would happen if he took me to teyn! He would lose everything, just everything. Ironjade is relatively tolerant, yes, but it will be centuries before any holdfast is ready for that. No woman has ever worn the iron-and-glowstone."

"Why?" Dirk said. "I don't understand. All of you keep making these comments-about breeding women and heldwives and women hiding in caves afraid to come out, all that stuff. And I keep not quite believing it. How did High Kavalaan get so twisted up anyway? What do they have against women? Why is it so critical that the founder of Ironjade was female? Lots of people are, you know."

Gwen gave him a wan smile and rubbed her temples gently with her fingertips, as if she had a headache she was hoping to massage away. "You should have let Jaan finish," she said. "Then you'd know as much as we do. He was only warming up. He hadn't even gotten to the Sorrowing Plague." She sighed. "It is all a very long story, Dirk, and right now I don't have the goddamn energy. Wait till we get back to Larteyn. I'll hunt up a copy of Jaan's thesis and you can read it all for yourself."

"All right," Dirk said. "But there are a few things I'm not going to be able to read in any thesis. A few minutes ago you said you weren't sure if you loved Jaan anymore. You certainly don't love High Kavalaan. I think you hate Garse. So why are you doing all this to yourself?"

"You have a way of asking nasty questions," she said sourly. "But before I answer, let me correct you on a few points. I may hate Garse, as you say. Sometimes I'm quite sure that I hate Garse, though it would kill Jaan to hear me say that. At other times, however– I wasn't lying before when I told you that I feel considerable affection for him. When I first arrived on High Kavalaan, I was as dewy-eyed and innocent and vulnerable as I could be. Jaan had explained everything to me beforehand, of course, very patiently, very thoroughly, and I had accepted it. I was from Avalon, after all, and you can't get more sophisticated than Avalon, can you? Not unless you're an Earther. I'd studied all the weird cultures humanity has spread among the stars, and I knew that anyone who steps into a starship has got to be prepared to adapt to widely different social systems and moralities. I knew that sexual-familial customs vary and that Avalon was not necessarily wiser than High Kavalaan in that area. I was very wise, I thought.