~Leawen~

 

It was a sunny, bright day in Tar Valon, but Leawen’s mood had seen better days. Not many women were completely ignorant of his advances. But this tavern wench had just ignored him for the third time. One of his training comrades had claimed her ignoring him proved that she was in fact not a “tavern wench”, but Leawen failed to see that man’s point. If there ever had been a tavern wench, then it was that girl! Even her eyes, no innocent girl had eyes as deeply green as she had, were unmistakeable proof of her being the mother of all tavern wenches. He had not even been able to steal the tiniest hint of a smile from her mouth, and he really had tried. Not that she was that pretty. In fact, he had seen mares with nicer teeth and more appealing legs. But something about her had caught his interest. And if there was one thing Leawen did not like, then it was to constantly loose when he was trying something.

 

Did the woman not realise, that she was hurting his heart with her indifference? All he wanted was one night of passion and affection, and after that he would be gone anyway. He felt, he did not ask for much, and on top he was willing to whisper these sweet lies into her ear, the kind women loved. So, all he wanted was to give, no matter the cost to him, and all she had to do was to take what he had to offer. Could any woman ask for more? Hardly!

 

Really, that girl was not worth the effort, but he was going to give it one more try. He would by her a present. Something cute. Only, he had no clue what to get. But surely one of the peddlers would have something inspiring. Leawen was just considering some opulent, but clearly cheap piece of jewellery, it kind of seemed appropriate for the woman, when rich laughter filled his ears. The part of Tar Valon he was in was not the quietest. And at this time of day it was bustling with life. It took him a moment to make out the source of cheerfulness. The woman was maybe a couple of years older then him, but when she laughed out a second time, his hand dropped the jewellery and his mind had forgotten there had ever been a serving maid with emerald eyes.

 

There were men in the yards that only took interest in young girls. Others seemed to only focus on blondes while some swore they only liked thin women. Leawen did not consider such limits. He either liked a woman, or not. And sometimes a cold stare was enough to make him turn away from a female otherwise beautiful enough to rival the so dreaded daughter of the night. Wasn’t there a bit of Lanfear in every female?

 

Sometimes a quick bash of eyelashes was enough and he knew he needed to be with that woman, no matter her shape, hair or age.

 

The woman was a peddler, it appeared. Vivid eyes were set in a sun tanned face, dominated by lips that begged to be kissed. Not looking left or right he crossed the distance parting him from her. Someone with a clearer understanding of right and wrong than Leawen might have considered the tavern maid a meaningless summer adventure that came and passed. But this woman was full-fledged passion. She was bartering with some foreign merchant guard, probably from Tear, her rust coloured skirt shifting enticingly every time she shifted her weight. Her white blouse showed some of her cleavage while her long, brown hair was tied into a braid, that hid little of her elegantly curving neck.

 

Leawen was obsessed like a fish taking the bait oblivious to the hook hidden in the soft flesh. Considering the goods on offer or her attire, the girl was far from wealthy. But had he been given the choice, he would have danced with her, and not the queen of the lion throne.

 

Finally the deal was done and some coppers were received by her in exchange for some wares. With the Tairen leaving those eyes finally focussed on him. Not that he had the impression, she had only noticed him now. The woman had been aware of him since he had stopped before her cart. Maybe even earlier.

 

“I am looking for something.” He said slowly, considering her goods for a moment, before returning to look into those beautiful eyes of hers. She seemed to have humour. It was time to put it to the test. Smiling and without a hint of uncertainty in his voice he talked on. “I have met a beautiful woman with brown hair and the most impressive eyes. She is like a rare flower. Men may only admire her, but not touch without permission.” His smile turned a little crooked. “Not that she is frail like the average blossom. I am sure she has hidden thorns.” And he was sure. A woman like her, clearly making her way alone in this cruel world had to know how to defend herself. “Maybe you know what someone like her could desire? I think she has seen some of the world. So it has to be something very special.” His eyes briefly shifted down the woman’s blouse to where her skirt was resting on her hips. “You know, she is very special.”

 

~Dilora~

 

Honestly, merchant guards were all the same.  Dilora knew of her attraction to them, that’s why she tried to speak to them sometimes rather than their masters.  She gave the braid hanging down her back a pat and animatedly spoke to the Tairen who, after some bargaining finally went off happy with the sachet of herbs she’d given him.  The few coppers would go towards buying more supplies for the journey to Cairhien.  There was a fabric shop just down the way that specialised in printed silks and she wanted to see if she could buy some scraps of the expensive fabric for next to no money.  The silk quilts had been an idea she’d thought up when she’d seen an Aes Sedai walk by with a Warder, him wearing his majestic colour-changing cloak that was a trifle disconcerting, and the sister of the White Tower wearing a printed silk dress with lots of panels in.  True, the overall effect would resemble a Gleeman’s cloak when it was finished, but the nobility would love something like that if done neatly.  To sleep in silk!  Such a luxury!

 

There went another satisfied customer.  Dilora was always happy to see that.  In all her years of peddling there had been very few dissatisfied ones and even when that rare occasion happened, she had been able to sort it out without too much in the way of hassle.  Usually an exchange or refund was acceptable and in the cases where the customer seemed to think they were the victims, Dilora had a few tricks up her sleeve to make sure peddler’s justice was served.  Peddler’s justice – when the customer is always right, they take it into their head that they are special and deserve that little bit extra because their custom is so important.  It was often a pleasure to, on those rare occasions, make sure there was slightly less of the product they bought in the container, or she would not pass that way again for a long time.  Dilora knew the measure of that kind of person though and tended to put them in their place right from the off.

 

A man walked over to her wagon and examined her counter, looking at the items on display.  He mentioned about trying to find a special weapon for a lady to protect herself with, but that it had to be special because she was special and nothing else would be good enough.  At least, that’s how Dilora chose to read into it.  That the man was making references to a woman that could to all extents and purposes been her, Dilora chose to ignore.  Men tried to flatter her all the time for bargains and discounts, thinking there wasn’t a brain in her pretty little head.  If they stopped to think about it, a woman peddler that worked like that would soon lose all her money and get taken advantage of on a daily basis.  For her to have reached her age with some measure of prosperity despite the appearance of the wagon was testament to her skill.  His gaze was fixed on her blouse, which happened sometimes.  It had happened moments before, with the Tairen.  Exhaling sharply, Dilora looked him in the eye, or tried to and put on a knowing look.

 

“I’m up here.  They can’t hear you.”  His gaze flickered to her face and he looked … odd for a moment.  She smiled at his face.  “Hello.”  She said, and smiled brightly.  “Now then, what was that about looking for a weapon for a lady friend of yours?  Do they have to protect their virtue from over-amorous suitors, perhaps?”  Turning, Dilora took one of the trays from her wagon and laid it on the counter.  It contained a selection of ornate and ornamental daggers that could be discreetly hidden about the person and some other things, such as a ring with a hinged lid to contain tablets or a small amount of liquid and a whip from Ebou Dar.  Once, on a quiet day, she had tried the whip, flicking it through the air a few times as she had seen the ladies do in a duel.  The tip got caught on her skirt as it whistled through the air and ripped a tear in it.  She hadn’t used it since. 

 

She used his examination of the tray to get a look at him.  Dark hair sat on his not-obviously attractive face and the way he carried himself made Dilora think of a proud rooster that owned the henhouse.  He looked like he was used to getting his own way.  There was something familiar about his olive skinned face that pulled at Dilora’s memory but she couldn’t for the life of her work out what it was.  His hands looked to have sword calluses on them, so he must work with a blade.  Interrupting his perusal, Dilora pointed to a blade slender enough to fit in a ladies boot.

 

“This one could be particularly useful if a woman had to defend herself at close quarters.”

 

~Leawen~

 

His face slipped hearing her reply. Later that night he would grin broadly about her statement. It really was too funny. But right then he was too surprised to smile about it. Of course, she could hardly mind him looking at her, else she would have hidden her assets better. Still, her pulling out a selection of weapons gave him time to find his composure again. And besides, he liked weapons. Not as much as he liked women or horses. But it was one of his secondary fields of interest.

 

Drawing the blade as if he truly was interested in the weapon he considered the metal. Clearly the woman had either not realised he had meant her, or was trying to ignore it. This war certainly not an easy start, but there had been days beginning worse ending still cosy. Leawen suddenly realise what had happened. Really, courting was just like a training fight. He had delivered the first try to bring his latches in touch with her skin, but she has paraded his attack well.

 

The shifting wind changed direction and before his minds eye he could envision how she had to look when her hair was loose and undone and flew through the air with each gust. For the fraction of a moment the air was no longer filled with the scent of pastries, horse dung and sweaty guards that had travelled too long without a bath. For a moment her scent filled his nose as if no other smell existed in this square. For a moment he had the intense feeling there was just him and her, and that made the smile return to his eyes.

 

Slamming the weapon back into its covering, he placed it back on her tray and focussed on her face. “I feel the need to apologize. I don’t normally judge a girl by her cleavage, but I would be lying if I was to claim the neckline of a woman’s blouse is of no interest to me.” This time his eyes did not travel. “What can I say? Something in your eyes tells me, you will not believe my words anyway, no matter how much thought I give them. You heave probably heard it all before. That you are witty, pretty, stunning? That your eyes can melt a man’s heart in a fraction and that any man would sacrifice his soul just for a smile from you?” He breathed in heavily. “Well, the truth is, that is exactly what I thought when I saw you.” The sunlight reflecting of some glass reminded him whom he was talking to. “And I am not saying that to get a cheaper price on your goods. Although, really, some discount might not be bad at all.” Hoping she’d understand the joke, he extended his hand. “I am Leawen. I am a tower guard.” He doubted anyone would hear that, and he cared little if someone did as long as they did not interrupt them here and now.

 

~Dilora~

 

She laughed, thinking she had some measure of this man already.  He’d seen that his more obvious attempts at flattery had fallen like a shot pigeon and had now reverted to a sort of honesty that was refreshing, if slightly far-fetched.  Dilora was tempted to give the man a little discount purely for making her laugh.  Times were tough, so he would pay the going rate.  A Tower Guard, eh?  There would be few that would be so hardy to risk taking the Tower’s name in vain, so he must surely be as he claimed.  One unbonded though, else he would have identified to which Aes Sedai to whom he was bonded.  Or would he?  If he was trying to entice her into bed he might not mention the name of another woman…

 

“My name is Dilora Fashelle, and as you’ve probably guessed, I am a peddler.”  She gestured at the wagon wryly, wondering if she should introduce her horse to him as well.  “You’ve already had a look at the selection of weapons I carry, did you see anything that took your interest?  Other than me?”  Laughing, she flipped the braid over her shoulder wear it had slipped into her neckline.  “Oh, come on.  Do you really think you can get a discount by flattering me, even if you believe it’s true?”  His expression looked faintly hurt, and Dilora smiled a lopsided smile by way of apology.  “I’m sorry.  It’s been one of those days, as I’m sure you know happen from time to time.  It’s almost lunchtime here, and all the customers will be in the taverns if I want to find them.”  This was a bit of a risk, but at least she could keep an eye on him.  Give him enough rope, and all that.

 

She straightened, brushing a speck of dirt off her rust-coloured skirt and leaning back a bit to stretch out the kinks in her spine.   It had been a long morning and the pull of a tankard was rather strong.  “Mind if we continue this after having something to eat?” Dilora asked; picking up the tray of ornamental daggers and weapons to put back on the shelf it came from.  “The least I can do is buy you a drink” in the hope that you’ll buy something under the influence “and then we can conclude business a little later – what do you say?”

 

~Leawen~

 

For a moment Leawen was very pleased. It felt as if that serving maid had left a dent in the shiny breastplate of his pride. It was as if she had produced a shard of doubt in his ability to seduce women. And this unexpected turn of events had just made the breastplate shiny and new again. It was seeing Dilora packing her wares away that reminded him who she was. Had his luck with her been too quick and easy? Why would someone like her want to go out for lunch with someone like him, and even invite him for a drink? Surely not because of his handsome face and lovely voice. Even before reaching the white tower and meeting an Aes Sedai for the first time he had known women were deceiving. Men meant what they were saying. With women you could never be too sure about their motives.

 

Pushing those silly considerations out of his mind he smiled. Why did any women share his bed, his out of all persons? There were questions no one had answers to. “Why not, Dilora? Lead on to a tavern of your choice.” Waiting for her to finish and starting to walk he added: “I am honoured by your offer, but I doubt I can have a woman pay for me. But surely the beer will be just as tasty if I pay?” Leawen did not think it wrong to take a woman’s decency and shame her with it by bragging about it afterwards. But to take a girl’s money was like taking a child’s doll.

 

Letting her walk ahead he used the occasion to check his coin purse and ogle her butt. Rolling, swaying hips somehow made him loose count twice as he followed the woman through the maze of wagons, stands and those men and women not yet sitting in some tavern for lunch. Appetite was building, but the hunger he was feeling could not be quenched by pastries. “Did you realise that ships and women have things in common? I have only been aboard on a riverboat once. The captain claimed it was one of the sleekest ships on the Erinin.” Leawen hardly talked about it for being abroad that ship had been one of the few occasions of him truly being scared. “But on that ship it occurred to me that women seem to float over the ground so much like such a vessel is floating through water. And of course, women and ships seem to sway most beautifully.”

 

Finally he came to the last coin in his purse. Leawen was no good at counting and was he ever to be paid more he was not sure he knew the numbers that would follow. In any event, Leawen was surprised that much of his wages were still there, even though this day was his third day off since pay day. It wasn’t rare that he was out of money after the first night, but then that serving maid had hardly been enticing him into a drinking frenzy. It was difficult to come into money spending mood when one was faced with her cold stares all the time.

 

The inn she had lead him to was hardly the type he would have chosen. There was no gambling, no one played cards and it did not look like the place where the patrons were often fighting. But the girl strumming the lute was pretty and her voice was clear. Hearing her sing Leawen remembered a version of the song Aes Sedai would not be pleased to hear. Taking charge again he lead Dilora to the far end of the room to a table that was partially secluded.

 

Had Leawen been given the choice, he would have gone to the lowest hovel. Not that there were any hovels low enough for his taste in Tar Valon. No, this city was entirely to neat and clean for his taste. Growing up in the rough part of Ebou Dar hovels had been his home along with narrow alleys and burned out or deserted buildings. But he was willing to make sacrifices to please a woman. At lease he spied a dance floor not far from their table. It was only lunchtime, but maybe the occasion would arise for him to lead here there for a dance or two. A dance was always a good measure to get an inkling of what kind of lover she was. Leawen was a gifted dancer as long as he was not required to dance the complicated, boring court dances nobles danced on balls. He preferred fiery, intimate dances. Best were those that kind of mirrored a combat at close quarters.

 

Leaning back on his seat, slightly shifting to find the most comfortable position, he watched her getting settled down, which ended in her case with rearranging her skirts. To start the conversation he asked her: “So, Dilora, do you often come to the witch…” For a moment his eyes widened in shock at his own slip. Before coming, that had been how they had referred to the Aes Sedai. Witches. Amadicia was so much closer to Ebou Dar than the white tower. And truth be told, Leawen still thought of them as such. Witches. It was not natural, that any women wielded so much power. “Sorry, I must have gotten something down my throat… So, does you business often bring you to the white tower?”

 

~Dilora~

 

She led the way to the tavern she knew: a clean, well-maintained place in a secluded location.  A friend of hers ran it so she would be guaranteed a table.  Even at this time of day, when most people would be taking a break from their day’s chores to grab something to eat, there would be a table for Dilora Fashelle.  A few coins exchanged would ensure free-flowing drinks and a measure of privacy, if she so desired at any time, but today Dilora wanted to be among the hubbub of general noise and people.  There would be more opportunities for commerce there and, if this Leawen were a respected Tower Guard as he claimed, someone might recognise him and think of how popular Dilora was with the White Tower.  That was a prestigious claim to fame indeed.

 

It amused her to have men follow her around.  Right now, as she wound her way through the narrower streets to the tavern, Dilora suspected Leawen was having a hard time concentrating.  Good.  Clouded wits meant spending fits, as her adage went.  She listened to his words about a woman being like a ship and gave a mental short at the description of their motion.  Yes, a woman was like a ship, but they were usually male.  Big, clumsy, and hard to get moving unless there was a strong current underneath them!  Shaking her head softly to herself, Dilora continued until they reached the tavern and had been seated at a table inside, accompanied by much smoothing of skirts.

 

Some generic chitchat ensued until the first drinks were set on the table, and Dilora took a long draught of her ale, thanking the Light for the cool beverage and hoping it would dull his wits a little.  He slipped up once though – had he been about to say witch?   Dilora rather suspected that he had been.  He covered it up well though, and quickly went on. How under the Light would a Tower Guard get away with such Amadician views?  He didn’t look Tairen to hold such thoughts either, and a Tairen would just not mention them rather than outwardly name them so.  Still, it wasn’t in her best interests to feign outrage at such a suggestion.  She would ignore it, and let him think her totally ignorant. 

 

“I trade here when the winds bring me back, Leawen.”  Dilora laughed and touched her hair with her hand.  “This is on my trading route, so to speak, so I come here fairly regularly.  At least once or twice a year – more if there is a demand for something I’m carrying.  My plans, like my future, are fluid.”  What did this man want?  Hopefully after their drink he would be more pliable to buy things from her wagon, but Dilora could not help but think there was more to this one’s agenda than first met the eye.

 

“In any case, what is a Tower Guard doing out of the Tower in the middle of the day?  I thought there was a Tower to guard and here I find you buying gifts for ladies fair.  Not that I’m complaining, mind.  If you end up buying something from my wagon as opposed to any of the merchants here then it’s a good day for me.  I’m just curious as to how a Tower Guard of your obvious prowess and skill would be out here when they are reputed to train at all hours of the day so they can defend their Aes Sedai with their lives if necessary.”  Dilora took a drink, and then continued.

 

“In any case, I’ll sell you the dagger you wanted for a most reasonable price, and I’ll let you buy me a drink into the bargain.”  There was something about this man she recognised and for the life of her, she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.  He reminded her of a figure from her past, but again, that was lost too far back in the mists of time and she had slept a lot since then.  Drank a lot too, if she admitted it to herself.  Dilora drank a little more and studied the set of his shoulders, obviously used to the training the yards threw at him, and his lean frame.  There was still something that Dilora couldn’t work out.  Why did she think of trying to feed him all of a sudden?

 

~Leawen~

Leawen felt the need to slap himself. One day he would bow to some sister and tell her with a broad smile and perfectly meek voice: “I am pleased to serve you and your fellow witches.” In a way, it would be interesting to watch the woman’s face when that happened, but he preferred if it was another making that slip. At least he did not slip often and many people seemed to be willing to take his rare slips as crude jokes or ignore them. Had this woman heard or did she just pretend ignorance?

Outwardly he hoped he his face did not give away that her questions were cause of some irritation to him. Some of what she said reminded him that with every passing day he was coming a tiny step closer to really reaching the level of a tower guard. And while that was not really something to worry about, becoming a tower guard brought him ultimately closer to eventually becoming a warder. And if there was something he was more afraid of then rivers and boats, then it was being bonded. A bonded man was like a castrated stallion no longer roaming the wild, instead only pulling a heavy wagon with no hope in the future. And the sister that man was bonded to was holding the reigns. Such a bond had to be any woman’s dream. And it was any sensible man’s worst nightmare. Still, the tower grounds were filled with fools endeavouring to become warders. They were all utterly mad! Swallowing the last of his first pint of ale he slammed the glass down on the table. Maybe it was time to move on. The years at the tower had allowed him to rest. He had been hunted before coming here and too weak to defend himself. But now that he had been taught, he would be able to survive on his own. Now he was stronger and with the years most of his old victims had forgotten about him.

Leawen knew, the time of his departure had not come yet. But he liked to think of himself as a wolf, and he would not let them pull his fangs by leashing him to one of the cursed witches.

Sighing he indicated the innkeeper to bring him another ale. Quickly he recounted her words. If there was one thing women did not like it was a man that wasn’t listening. That was kind of strange, for women hardly ever said anything meaningful. But that was how they were, and if he wanted to come a little closer to that lovely bosom of hers, he’d better not irritate her. Pushing his dread of being bonded out of his mind, the woman managed to immediately wake another sensation in him. At least it wasn’t fear, for Leawen liked to picture himself fearless. It was Dilora describing her current freedom that woke a longing in Leawen he had nearly forgotten. Back in Altara he had been as free as she was now. He had gone where he had wanted, where the wind had blown him. He had robbed who he wanted and time made that time seem nice then it had in truth been. Now he was stuck here in the white tower. He had not realised, but them Aes Sedai had already pulled some of his teeth. Soon he would just be a lapdog that wanted to be occasionally patted by some ageless fingers decorated with a serpent ring.

Realizing he was frowning, Leawen banned the subject from his mind. Tomorrow night, when he was resting alone in the narrow, hard cot was the right time to grumble. Today, was the time to enjoy this woman’s beauty and relish the rich sound of her voice.

Curse the tavern and all inn-keepers! Had the man forgotten to bring him another ale, or was the second one empty again? Knowing them lot, they had served him a half empty glass. Ordering his third, he finally focussed on Dilora. This girl was bright. She had not missed that his mind had been troubled. And she appeared to consider something. He had met girls like her before, if not that many. Thinking about it, she seemed strangely familiar.

Not touching the third ale for the moment he focussed on calming. The deep rumble of his voice was still calm, but the last shards of worry were still haunting his mind. The thought of being bonded was enough to make him have sleepless nights. “Occasionally, Dilora, even we may leave the white tower. We are essentially fighting men, not novices that stay trapped for years, if not decades in that luxurious prison.” Catching occasionally a flicker of white in the tower Leawen wondered which horrid things these girls had to suffer through. Considering the way novices were watched at all times, the truth had to be gruesome. He nearly cursed realising that he had set the ale again against his lips had had taken a deep shallow. “In any event, I am off for today. There are others that can watch and guard while I am gone. Not that any Aes Sedai needs much guarding. Their powers are truly…” Smiling he took another zip while he contemplated how he was to end that line. He would not slip again. “…astonishing.” The sensation of being pleased vanished as he realised that he was drinking far too quickly and far too much. The third ale was already half empty and being worried she might soon think him a drunkard, Leawen set the ale down a little further away from him, although he doubted that if the topic of this discussion did not change soon, that this measure would be of much use.

 

“But enough about me. Dilora.” He did not fight the sudden urge to feel the texture of her skin. Acting as if he had every right to, he took her left hand for the simple reason it had been closer to him. “Later I’ll buy whatever you want me to get, as long as you tell me a little about yourself.” Holding her hand softly, gently so that she could withdraw if she felt he was going to far too quickly he considered her fingers as he talked on. “You fingers tell me you have to work too hard. They tell me you are alone and have no man to take the burden and weight of your shoulders. But they also tell me you look after yourself. And they prove you are not weak.” Really, these were all things he had known before, but uttering that gave him the excuse to touch her, to hold her. Running his free index finger over her ring finger, he mused: “You have nice, elegant fingers. I think you should wear a ring or so. You don’t happen to have a pretty one amongst your goods I could buy for you?”

 

~Dilora~

 

Dilora laughed and moved her hand back away from his fingers.  It tickled, but it had felt nice.  A gleam had appeared in her dark eyes as he had asked for her hand, and then if she had any rings in her wagon.  Had he just proposed to her?  There were some countries that held to the tradition of exchanging rings with wedding vows, so now she was just confused.  Well, if he wanted to buy her pretty jewellery, who was she to argue with that?  She smiled and bared her teeth slightly.  “Why, Leawen, are you proposing marriage to me?”  Her eyes were full of innocence, feigned, of course, and her grin increased.

 

“I believe I do have some pretty rings among the items for sale.  I’ll let you have a look at them first though, before you buy.  I like my customers satisfied.  Mind you, seeing as how I will be the recipient, I dare say I will be!”  Her cascading laughter rose above conversation in the room, causing a few pairs of eyes to look at them before returning to their drinks.  How many had he put away now, three or four?  Dilora was still on her first drink, making sure she only took little sips while Leawen had told his tale about life in the Warder’s Yard and his … resistance to being bonded.   Something in the way he looked proved he seemed serious about his proposition, although she doubted it.  It was going to take someone very special indeed to pull Dilora away from the life of the open road.  She could not see herself settling down at all.

 

Sitting there in silence for a little while, Dilora studied him while she thought of what she’d say about herself.  She noted the set of his shoulders again, admiring a strong pair of shoulders on a man, and his eyes were rather nice and mischievous.  His hands seemed strong too, with a practiced gentility that was tender in its own way.   She began with her roots, telling him how she had left Baerlon about ten years ago to start out on her own as a peddler, and some of the exciting adventures she had in that time.  The bubble of evil that had threatened their lives in Caemlyn, the adventure with the cloud eagle chick in the Mountains of Mist, the desperate bar room brawl that had given her the status of a wanted criminal for a time…  All interspersed with reminiscences of people she had met and the different ales she had tried.  She took another drink and found she too was at the bottom of her tankard.  Did she dare have another?  Dilora went on answering his question about her life.

 

“You are right; there is no man in my life.  My Altie is the closest thing I have to a companion and she is my lovely horse.”  Her left hand returned to the tabletop where she saw Leawen look at it again as though considering claiming it once more.  “I can definitely take care of myself, and have protected my virtue on a few occasions as well that of as other people sometimes.  I’m strong.  I’m a woman, travelling alone in a predominantly male area.  I have to be strong.  Where my wits don’t work, a blow to the head with a cudgel or an arrow in the shoulder usually dissuades the less aggressive ones.  I will do whatever it takes to protect my wagon and the contents of it.  I remember doing that once in Ebou Dar.”  Dilora sighed.  “It’s a lonely life.”  She gave a nod and looked at her customer’s half-full glass.  “Are you going to drink that?”

 

~Leawen~

 

What was it with women that they took anything a man was saying to mean he was proposing to marry her? He kind of doubted that she really thought that. He hoped she was just joking. There had been a time when he would have promised to wed a girl if that made her surrender to him. There had a time when he would have taken these vows if it made the woman entice him. But now that could pose problems. What if that Dilora turned up at the tower gates and insisted on him marrying her. For all he knew these mad Aes Sedai would force him to keep those silly vows.

 

He listened closely to what Dilora had to tell. Not to be polite. It always was interesting to hear what people had been doing, where they came from and what had shaped them. Resisting the urge to drink – things were slightly fuzzy already – he had to nearly laugh when she asked him if he was going to have the rest of his ale.

 

“No, feel free. Actually, I have drunk too much, or rather, too fast as it is. I’ll just be a second.”

 

Rising, he went to relieve himself.

 

This really was a neat place. Scornfully he washed his hands and even wiped them dry before returning to the serving room. It seemed some time had passed, since them entering for the tavern was now half empty. Also the girl had begun to play faster tunes now. Dilora was still sitting there, the back turned to where he was returning from. The way her blouse was cut some parts of her shoulders were free. Smooth skin was only fractionally obscured by her braid. She was just finishing his ale as he came to stand behind her. “What do you think, Dilora. How about a little dance? I hope it is permitted for a peddler to dance with a customer?” Before she could respond his finger trailed down her neck. He could see tiny, fine hairs rise as he caressed her there gently, as if his finger tips were not much more then the wind slipping past. Biting his lip he fought the urge to bend down and kiss the part of her skin his finger was teasing. It wasn’t time for that yet.

 

However he did bend lower, so that his head was right next to hers. “Forgive me if my drink is making my tongue flap, but I can’t understand some men’s fixation on a woman’s bosom. I find your neck just as fascinating. The way it is gently arched, so smooth, so perfect.” Closing his eyes for an instant he imagined how it would be to press his lips onto hers now and here and force her to a kiss. But he restrained himself, no matter how tempting that prospect was.

 

The girl had just started a new song. It was the right type of tune. Not too slow, but also not too fast. Perfect for dancing. Straightening he repeated his request. “How about a dance?” He had not yet met a woman that did not like to dance.

 

~Dilora~

 

“If you don’t trip over your own feet, or tumble and take me down with you, then of course I’ll have a dance with you.  Just the one, mind, and then it’s back to the wagon for business.”  She realised she had been away from it for quite a while and it would not do to make potential customers wait for too long before serving them.  Accepting the hand that was offered to her, Dilora made her way to where benches and tables had been cleared into a dancing area, and took her position opposite Leawen.

 

The music was a tad slower than she liked to dance to, but it was good right now because she didn’t feel too energetic.  Leawen’s hand felt slightly clammy when she took it and assumed a dancing position, the other hand holding her skirt up delicately so as not to trip.  A dance or two and he would be buying half her wagon!  Dilora moved in the opening steps to the dance, light on her toes.  She didn’t often get occasion to dance, in fact she couldn’t remember dancing at all since the time she had rolled into Andor for the first time from a visit to Baerlon, when she’d matched the wanderer Anton drink for drink and nearly out-danced him as well.

 

Oddly, he was light on his feet.  Dilora could easily think that dancing was part of a Warder’s normal training regime, so lightly he moved.  She herself was a tad out of practice, but soon got into the swing of things after the first lilting steps, gliding across the floor.  Not once did he step on her toes, although he came close as Dilora could have swore he was trying to peek down her blouse.  She whirled away from him then, as the dance dictated, and looked at him with large, expressive brown eyes, full of that feigned innocence.  The steps quickened, and Dilora flew back to Leawen and engaged in a quickstep for a while as the music started to reach crescendo.

 

“You dance well.  Perhaps you and I could meet up another day, or night, to dance some more.  For now, you have a date with a dagger.”

 

~Leawen~

 

Leawen was used to people knowing various lyrics for the same tune. However, he was not accustomed to someone dancing a completely different dance to a tune that demanded a certain sequence of steps in his mind. He happened to know that dance too, however Dilora starting to dance away like that was a little surprising. Further, the think he liked about dancing was that normally the man was in charge. Well, she had let him lead, but kind of not let him much room. But the biggest shame was, the dance he had kept in mind had been so far more intimate and close.

 

Leawen did not care that much for compliments, but he still grinned like a wolf hearing it. But part of that grin was an attempt to cover his irritation. Did this girl think he would drown four ales and dance with her, and then buy anything she would hold before his nose? Did she think that was all she would have to offer to strike a bargain? He would buy that ring for her. He had promised that, and the promise was the type he was going to stick to. He loved to buy pretties, gifts and dresses for girls. But a dagger? That dagger held no meaning at all for him. He did not need a dagger.

 

Leading her away from the dance floor, Leawen leaned against one of the wooden posts supporting the ceiling. “Hmm, Dilora…” The smile had faded into feigned embarrassment. She wanted him to spend his money on her goods? She would have to work for it. “I feel there must be a misunderstanding. The moment your eyes met mine, I lost all interest in that dagger.” Leawen’s face was solemn, but inside he was bubbling with anticipation. How would she react? Would she be upset and stalk off, or would she, and that would be so much more entertaining, try a little harder to make him buy something? When he had been a child, when he had been forced to survive in the Rahad, he had often been forced to run from the guards. And when that failed, when they had captured him, he had tried to lie his way out of their accusations. Over the years, through try and error, he had become quite a proficient liar and story teller.

 

“Really, I don’t feel like buying much at the moment. You know, times are said to be getting tougher. So I think I might save up. You never know, but maybe my family might need some gold at some point. My old mum can’t work much with her bad back and my dad is moaning more and more about his old war wounds.” He felt the urge to roar load. For all he knew his mum had been a whore and was dead and gone. He held no memories of ever having seen her. And had his dad ever cared for him, then it was the type of care he could do without. He imagined his dad as some seaman stopping in Ebou Dar, looking for a night of fun before travelling on. Still, it was an amusing thought that both of them, now old and grey sat, in some little hut and relied on their little Leawen to keep them alive.

 

Noticing something flash in Dilora’s eyes he thought it was time to tease her some more. “I am so sorry to be such a disappointment. But Dilora, I do think you better get back to your cart now.”

 

Really, Leawen knew exactly what the woman could do to convince him to spend his money. A kiss, well maybe more then just one kiss would surely make him loose his worries. But even if she was to leave him alone and return to her wagon it would not be a drama. There was still time, and the night had still to come.

 

~Dilora~

 

Dismissed like some mere serving maid no longer wanted or put aside in favour of a prettier model, Dilora sniffed, loudly.  She pulled away from Leawen’s grip and put her hands on her hips.  Men!  They were always promising a woman the world and when she tried to get them to fulfil a little bit of that commitment, they ran a mile.  No wonder Dilora preferred the company of her horse and the open road.  She had a flash of pity for the females of the land that had been contented with a man and trying to please him.  A friend of hers had told her not to be so hasty and that the right man was probably just around the corner.  The problem was that Dilora had already been around the corners a few times, and no such man existed.  As unreliable as a nine-mark coin!

 

She stopped.  A slow smile spread across her face and Dilora had a sudden idea.  He was Ebou Dari.  He was a Tower Guard who liked to pursue the ladies.  That meant he must be housed somewhere in the yards.  So, she knew his name and where he lived.  A basket of delicacies with a red ribbon around with handle and small white flowers, loversknot, perhaps, entwined amongst it, and delivered to him.  That would raise a few eyebrows, particularly if she included a note…  Dilora could picture it in her mind’s eye now.

 

My Dearest Leawen,

 

I will never forget that night we spent together.  I thank you greatly for the reminder, but I fear as much as I try, it will always suit you better than me. 

 

Inside, wrapped in layers of soft linen, would be a sheer dress made of very thin silk and cut in the Domani style.  It would also be a very pale rose colour, a lovely burnished pink.  Feeling instantly better at the thought, Dilora looked at Leawen and laughed heartily.  The day was young yet, and there would be other customers.

 

“That’s fine, Leawen.  There are obviously a lot of other peddlers and stalls in Tar Valon that might have trinkets, but remember I offer good value.  You definitely get what you pay for, and I won’t hold you to ransom over the prices – no highway robbery here!”  With that, Dilora turned towards the door of the tavern, swaying with her stalk and strands of her dark hair escaping her braid.  At the door she turned back to him and looked meaningfully at him.  “If you would like to look over my wares again, my wagon will be in the same place.”  There was something so familiar about him.  What was it?

 

~Leawen~

 

Leawen looked after her for a long moment. Was this girl worth chasing? Was she worth his money? There were thousand girls like her in Tar Valon alone. And there were twice that many that were far more easily seduced. For a moment he searched his heart. A few years ago the most important matter had been to not spend a night alone, no matter who the girls was. Of course, the prettier the better. But even he was slowly changing.

 

Suddenly it did not seem that important to bed Dilora. Suddenly he had the vague feeling he owed her something. Not for promising to buy her a ring, not for wasting her time. It was as if she had once saved his life and he had not yet said thanks. But what now? Run after her like some love sick fool? He had no problem with that, but then again, it would put her into a much too strong position.

 

„Burn all women!“ Leawen mumbled, then paid, before running as fast as he could. He rarely ever ran. And if he could he would pay a months wage to ensure Dilora never realized he had run for her. Leawen did not take the route he assumed she was taken. He happened to know a way that was much faster. It just required him to pass though an old woman‘s house. Knocking, he was lucky for the crone did not take long to open.

 

He did say „sorry“, then heaved her aside and raced through her corridor, jumped over her garden fence and was on the road on the other side. From there it was just one road down to the where Dilora had her wares.

 

Leawen even managed to ease his breathing back to normal by the time she was finally appearing. Sitting on an old barrel next to her wagon he gave her a bored look. „Did you get lost?“ Slowly Leawen rose. „I‘ve been waiting here for ages.“ Dilora was certainly not the most stunning girl he had ever tried to seduce. But she was very special, and something else he rarely thought about a woman came to his mind. She really was unique. „Well, truth to be told, I did not want the time with you to be over yet. And I am still hoping for a kiss. You have lovely lips.“ She surely had lovely lips. And he particularly liked the sound of her voice.

 

„All right, girl. Offer me something, anything. I will buy it.”

 

~Dilora~

 

It was bad enough to see him sat there, idly waiting for her as though it was a summer garden party, but then for him to compliment her lips in such a way … it was tempting.  He wasn’t bad looking and there seemed to be a sort of chemistry between them that had nothing to do with the ale.  His mocking words floated over from where he sat on an old barrel and Altie snorted, giving his statement an ironic punctuation.  What harm would one kiss do?  Particularly if it meant she could sell him more items.  Maybe he would also recommend her to his Tower Guard friends as well, but Dilora doubted it somehow.  He didn’t seem the kind to have too many friends and she had seen his kind before.  Ordinarily a loner, Leawen probably found solace and company in wine and women, pretty much as Dilora did herself sometimes. 

 

Dilora frowned.  The man had a nerve, but at least he was going to buy something now.  What harm would one kiss do?    Mentally going over what she had in her wagon that was highly priced enough to gain some measure of satisfaction from the days events, Dilora looked Leawen over.  It was very similar to how a farmer might look over a horse from a market.  A faint sheen of perspiration on his forehead made her think he had run a fair way and, was that shrubbery on his jacket?  Ah, Leawen the Tower Guard and Cross Country Champion.  It all made sense now.  How long since I was held?  What harm would it do?   

 

“Alright,” she told him, her hands going back to her hips.  “One kiss.  One.  That’s all you’re getting.  You said you’re hoping for a kiss, but you’ll have to come and get it, lover boy.  And then you’re going to buy a ring as you said you would.”  Dilora crossed to stand right in front of him, her face close to his, and closed her eyes.  Pouting, she leaned forward and, after a moment just as she felt his lips touch hers, Dilora pulled away with a start.

 

“Actually, you know, I’ve just the thing.  I don’t think you buying a ring would be a very good idea, you see.  There were people in that tavern that witnessed your saying that you wanted to buy me a ring and as I said, to some that’s the same as a marriage proposal.  No, no, you don’t want that.  Your pledge is to the White Tower, you could not possibly marry another woman.”  Dilora took another step back, inwardly pleased at the perplexed look that crossed Leawen’s face.  This was far more fun than kissing!  She would have to watch her step with her teasing though because soon the Tower Guard might start to get fed up with her act and just take a kiss anyway.  Which, she decided, might not be such a bad thing.  For now, she continued her tease by rolling her hips ever so slightly as she turned around to walk to the wagon and climbed up inside.

 

It took only moments to find what she was searching for.  Out of one of the drawers in her clever bed, Dilora took a flat package about a pace squared.  And promptly unwrapped it from the linen surrounding it.  No, this was not going into a basket marked for his attention at the Yards; this was going home with him.  As Dilora approached Leawen again, she held the contents of the parcel and let it drop down to show him what was inside.

 

The pink silk dress, cut in the Domani style, would look most becoming on him.  She actually rather enjoyed the look on his face. 

 

“Leawen, if you buy this very pretty, very lovely pink silk dress from me, you’ll get your kiss.  As I said though, you’ll have to collect your payment.”  She smiled, full of feigned innocence once more, and leaned against the side of the wagon where no passers-by could see.

 

~Leawen~

 

There were man that took a woman talking about marriage to just jabber. Leawen knew better. The more often a girl took that cursed word into her mouth, the stronger the idea became, and the further she was convinced one day they would be married for real. And this Dilora had uttered the word far too many times already. But the irritation was just a hint of annoyance. A kiss would be great now. Just Dilora seemed to have more fun with teasing him. That girl was Lanfear‘s great, granddaughter when it came to teasing a man out of his wits. And she was probably as witty as the daughter of the night.

 

A dirty grin was playing on Leawen‘s face as he watched her vanish into her wagon. She had a nice buttock, nice hips, and a delightful narrow waist. He would kiss her today. No he would do more then just kiss her. That girl needed more then a kiss. The sight of seeing her waggle her behind had made him nearly forget what she had gone to get. And when she came back out and produced that pink silk dress, he was a little confused. The confusion deepened as he listened to her explanation.

 

Did she mean to wear that for him? He had been talking about making her wear a ring. Since now she had replaced that ring with a dress, surely that was what she was implying. The day was getting better and better. Lifting the dress up by the straps Leawen‘s eyes widened even further. Dilora would look most amazing in this. He only wondered about the colour she had chosen. He would expect to see a sixteen year old in that particular hue. He would have expected her to wear something more mature. But who was he to understand the colours of a dress?

 

He had bought dresses for girls before, but he could not remember a girl choosing something as daring. If he knew anything about dresses then this one would cling rather tightly. Setting the dress carefully aside he did pull out a few coins. He assumed he had just paid her enough for three dresses, but he did not care that much. The next pay would come sooner or later, and he was not the type to save gold.

 

Leawen took his time to pack his gold away. He was not staring, but he did not miss that she was resting against the wagon rather lasciviously and waited. Dilora was no virgin that had to be convinced a kiss could be fun. But the question was, how far was she willing to go. Certainly, there was no doubt in Leawens mind how far he wanted to take matters.

 

Coming closer to Dilora, he stopped just before her. There still was easily a hand‘s width parting them, but to the occasional onlooker would certainly take them for a couple. Her eyes were focused on him, and looking down on her he could feel his desire grow into a raving urge. Leawen had learned to keep that urge at a short leash, however, deep down he knew that tormenting need was keeping him a slave.

 

„I have this strange feeling we have met before.“ he mumbled. Oddly, with Dilora he had the weird feeling this one time he was not lying. His head did not come closer though. Instead his hand came up to caress Dilora‘s cheek softly. „I have this odd feeling I‘ve seen your eyes before.“ The animal in Leawen wanted to push her against the wagon and kiss her wildly. But he loved teasing as much as reaching his goal. And there were occasions where the path was the true goal. So he would take this slowly and relish every moment of it.

 

His hand drifted down, over her neck and shoulder, down her arm to finally settle on her hip. Had she thought a kiss would be just a fleeting encounter of lips? No. His other hand wiped a few strands of her hair from her face, past her ear before also trailing down to her hip, then waist. „Has anyone ever told you the magic of a woman‘s waist?“ Gently his hand ran down from her waist to her hip before traveling back up. „At least for me, it is like that. It is like hearing the most beautiful song. Or watching night flowers. Do you know that feeling of utter wonder.“ Dilora had nice hips, and a really narrow waist. With a girl like her, he had to make up very little.

 

Moving one hand back to her cheek, now, he finally came closer. Caressing her neck as their lips touched, he felt fire take him. It would be so simple to let go and try his luck. But he had felt the muscles that lay hidden beneath smooth skin. An Aes Sedai‘s face could be young and innocent, but beneath lay incredible might. Dilora was similar. She was just a girl, but he suspected she had a few surprises up her sleeves. Still, if that kiss did not warm her heart, the girl had to be numb.

 

Lips parted a moment later. But his eyes did not leave her. Now that he had gotten his kiss, he wanted more.

 

„Dilora, I gather I am stopping you from work. A peddler like you surely needs to use any moment in a town to sell. The only problem is, I kind of can‘t let you go. But then, the knowledge that I am a paying customer kind of makes me feel better.“ Would she get that down the wrong throat? Women were always searching for a reason to take a compliment for an insult. „In fact, I need your expert advise. Shouldn‘t I be getting some flimsy silk stockings to go with that dress?“ Smirking he added. „And, would that earn me maybe some more of that special attention from before?“

 

Dilora‘s eye climbed up teasingly. „Maybe.“

 

Leawen‘s followed her in mock. „I‘ll take that for a yes. But don‘t hurry off just yet. I am sure in a moment I‘ll come to think of yet something else we urgently need. So let us contemplate for a moment.“

 

This time he did not tease quite as much. His hand on her waist was holding her slightly firmer, his anticipation was greater. Lips touched. Soft sensitive skin pressed onto even softer, velvet skin. He felt as nervous as a kid for the first time testing the flavor of love as he parted his lips and attempted to deepen the kiss. Would Dilora unlock the gates and welcome him, or would the doors stay shut the way a castle was greeting an intruding army? He had a ram with him, if matters came worst, and he also know how to knock in case he just had not been heard. But of course, he hoped there was no need to go that far. The fire was always warmer when it was granted freely.

 

~Dilora~

 

Silk stockings would look good with that dress, she had to admit.  And, as she also had to admit, it was good to feel someone this close to her.  There had been lots to look at: the lovely little tavern maid, Cor the Aiel, and that rather good-looking tattooist with the oceanic eyes she had liked the look of, but even with the memory of the last kiss she had received it had been too long.  She pressed herself against Leawen before she could think of what she was doing, deepening the kiss.

 

“Mmm, Leawen.”  Dilora murmured, shifting a hand to his neckline to hold the back of his neck.  Moving the fabric to one side, she broke their kiss after a minute or so, so she could breathe properly.  And she opened her eyes.  His eyes staring back at her reflected the knowing look in her eyes and she moved away, breathing quickly, her pulse beating a quickstep in her throat.  This was very familiar to her, almost as if it had happened before.  Somewhere, deep in the mists of her memory, a time in Ebou Dar, in Altara when she was riding to the capital to try the gilded fish and to see if anyone would be interested in some jewels, indicated to Dilora where she knew Leawen from. 

 

A haze, a moment, a flash of black cloak, a large hat and a rapier flashed into her mind.  Those eyes, flickering with suppressed desire and a hint of something else that Dilora could not quite fathom, were a definite memory of her past.  Was it that time?  Unconsciously, she pulled the neckline of her blouse a bit higher and looked into his eyes.  Oh yes, those were the same ones.

 

The wagon had rumbled out from one of the stands of trees that dotted Altara at near dusk.  Altie was uncertain of something, Dilora could feel that; the mare was reluctant to go forward.  She should have stopped then, but the desire to find a safe camp in open ground was too strong, as was the need for something hot to eat.  Advancing forward with caution, she thought she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching.  She pulled Altie to a halt and looked around, her hand going to her bow and the quiver of arrows.  And then the poor, hungry man, scarce more than a lad, stepped out of the shadows and began to speak. 

 

So.  She remembered where she had seen this fellow before, and also why she had wanted to feed him.  That Dilora knew did not mean she was going to reveal that to Leawen.  If she recalled correctly, he owed her a favour as well as what may or may not happen anyway.  Her hand went to the neckline of her blouse and loosened it again, her breath deepening and her eyes widening.  She stepped closer to Leawen and laid a hand on his wrist, looking up into his eyes.

 

“Leawen, that payment was a deposit, shall we say?  I’ll collect the rest of the total later.  For now though, the day is pressing on and I have a few errands to run.”  She looked to the floor as though desolate to be leaving his company.  Recalling the first time she had had to bathe in a river and some other merchants had seen her helped to put a rosy blush on her cheeks and she sighed, deeply.  “There are many taverns around here, but I am of a mind to eat in my wagon tonight and it would be good to cook for two.  That way I can keep my eye on the rest of my investment.”  She looked back up at him.  “It’ll be cosy, though.  There is room for two in the wagon so it’ll be nice.  There’s just one thing I need.  I gave away my last one – would you mind getting me a loaf of bread?  I have the rest of the ingredients, but I just need some more or the meal won’t be the same.  What do you say, Leawen?  Will you do this little thing for me?”

 

~Leawen~

 

Leawen thought of himself as a good kisser. He had been taught well by a girl that had been a real challenge and that had taken fun in punishing or rewarding him for showing skill or lacking feeling when kissing. That girl had been his first love in any sense of the word, and he had not yet met another woman with such a character. But it always took two to make a kiss fun, and Dilora made kissing such great fun, that he forgot the world around him. That was something that had not happened in such a long time. It was her that ended the kiss. She was breathing hard. He was having trouble to keep his breath level. If anything, he wanted to go on, to continue kissing. At the same time he knew this really was not the time or place to continue. At least her curvy, feminine shape was still close to his and judging by the obvious signs visible in her face and eyes, she had forgotten about any reservations she might have had in the beginning. She was like a flower blooming in his hands.

 

The beauty of the moment was too perfect to last. It was like a cloud passing by, taking the light of the sun. One moment her eyes had been mischievous and glowing with delight and passion, then they seemed to invert as if she no longer knew where she was or as if she was seeing things only she could see. But the darkness passed as quickly as it had come. Still, deep inside it left Leawen shiver. Something made him feel as if Dilora knew something troubling. Maybe it was something about him? She was a peddler after all, and in his time as a highwayman he had robbed numerous peddlers just like her, or at least, he had tried more often then actually succeeding.

 

But Leawen blocked his mind. Remembering those days was meant for solemn days of reflection. There had been weeks where he had been mad with hunger. Too many times he and his fellow robbers, all of then youngsters and inexperienced, had failed to overcome the guards or merchants. Too often one of his friends had died in the attacks, from hunger or from some disease. They had been fools to follow that man out of the narrow alleys of Ebou Dar and into the country side believing this life would be better. The man had locked them with his visions. He had told them with him they would no longer have to run from the guards. He had made them believe as criminals in the wild they would be better off then as living as thieves in the crowded town. The fool man had been one of the first to die. At least he had died doing something he believed in.

 

Leawen tore his mind from the past. Images began to flood in he did not want to consider. Months had passed with them barely surviving. But when they had succeeded on a few trader and peddlers the Altaran guards had come and dispersed his gang, slaughtering as many as they could in the process. They had killed her too, the girl that had been teaching him to kiss. The girl that had taught him all he knew about pleasing a woman. The one girl, that had given him more joy and pain then any other women ever after. Leawen then had joined other robbers, but the crimes these men had committed were still troubling him. He had been a robber because life had not given him another chance. He had never hurt anyone unless he had no other choice. But those men...

 

Dilora was talking. It was her voice that relieved him from the gloomy void of his past. And yet, simultaneously the sound of it seemed to stir something in the back of his mind. As if slamming a door shut he moved the iron bar to lock it. The past was over and could not be undone. There had been a time when anyone he came across seemed familiar. There had been a time when the dead haunted him and accused him. In those days he had been hunted and wherever he came to people seemed to remember him. Today he thought this had been a time of madness. He would not return to that time and he would not contemplate if he had met Dilora before or not. No one seemed to think someone serving the white tower could once have been a criminal, and that was the true reason for him being thankful to the witches.

 

Finally winning that battle with his memory, Leawen found it easy to smile as he heard her offer. A girl that was willing to cook for a man, was usually also willing to do more then kiss him afterwards. A girl inviting a man like him into her wagon was sure to have a plan, and Leawen was certain that plan did not end with her sending him off once the eating was done with. His past was forgotten, the cobwebs covering the memories a little torn but mostly still intact. Now, it took all his effort to not grin like a fool. Oh, he did smile. But he did not dare to grin quite as dirtily as he wanted to.

 

“It sounds very nice, Dilora.” Leawen whispered and this was one of the few occasions he told a woman the truth. “I would feel more then honoured. And it should not be a problem to find a loaf of bread.” In fact he would need to get Dilora a little something. Not for the prospect of what he was hoping for tonight. No, he would get her something just because she was pretty and because of this wonderful kiss they had just shared.

 

But he could not let go of her immediately. Caressing her once more gently he promised her he would be back just after the market closing, just before dusk setting in. A last gentle kiss and then he finally tore himself away from Dilora.

 

* * *

 

Leawen used the time to visit a public bathing house. Relaxing in a sweating room his thoughts were circling around Dilora, the time he had been with her and the kisses they had shared while he drifted into sleep and back awake. The cool water he used to wash later was a relief and getting dressed again he finally bought the bread and considered what he could get for Dilora. He had the feeling that she would be irritated if he bought something from someone else. Therefore he just plucked a rose from one of the public squares, saved his gold and was roughly on time back at her wagon. Knocking loudly he waited for her to open the door or call him in.

 

 

~Dilora~

 

The afternoon was a blur of customers, visits from old friends and updating her ledger to make sure her accounts were up to date, and by the time the sun started to set in the sky, Dilora was feeling tired and aching of shoulder.  A long soak in a hot, hot bath would make her feel ten times better, but she did not have the time now.  A quick wash was all she would have time for, and then perhaps in the early morning tomorrow she could indulge in lengthy ablutions.  Leawen would be arriving soon, and there was still the meal to prepare.

 

Established in the stableyard of the tavern that looked after her wagon while she were away from it, Dilora chopped some chicken and vegetables, and put it in a large pot with some very unusual spices.  The little sachets of herbs and spices had not sold very well of late, largely because people were more concerned with eating in general, rather than eating well.  Still, they were some dried peppers and herbs that grew around Altara and Ghealdan, and with a few chopped tomatoes and some more peppers, it would be rather tasty.  Adding some onions to the pot, she topped it up with water and then set it over the small stove she had to cook.  With the bread and some wine, it would be a feast indeed.

 

She just had long enough to get changed and to run a comb through her hair when a knock came at the wagon door.  Altie had been fed, so there were no worries on that front – outraged neighing in the obscenely early hours of the morning by a hungry horse would not interrupt her sleep.  The pink dress lay on the chair by her small bed, which was, at the moment, cunningly folded into the wall to give more space.  Cooking aromas permeated the wagon, making it feel decidedly homey and Dilora straightened the clinging black dress, not at all suitable for cooking in, so that lay against her. 

 

The knock pulled Dilora from a battle of her conscience.  She knew the man that she was going to have dinner with tonight had tried to rob her when she had not been a peddler for long.  All she had in her wagon of any value was the food she was carrying for herself, as business had been slow.  She was on a mission to collect things from the woods and shorelines that she could sell, and as a result had nothing that was valuable at all.  He looked hungry, and roused the part of Dilora that wanted to feed people and make them happy.  So she gave him a loaf of bread.  Dilora wondered if he appreciated the irony of what she had told him to fetch to enjoy with the meal.  She doubted it.

 

Opening the door Dilora saw Leawen standing there holding a rose and the loaf of bread in the other hand.  Good.  He could follow simple instructions.  She beamed, holding the door aside for him so he could enter the wagon, and then she gestured to the sole chair in the space.  As it was designed predominantly for one person, there was only one of everything.  One chair, one cupboard, one bed…

 

“Come in, come in!”  Dilora exclaimed, pulling a cushion and some blankets from the cupboard and put them on the floor, spreading them out and then sitting on the cushion.  “We can have a picnic in here as I don’t really have enough room.  It is cosy though.”  Material rustled as Dilora adjusted her dress so she was more comfortable, and she looked up at Leawen.  “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble for the bread.”

Leawen had been so focused on the hope that Dilora would be wearing that pink dress that he was initially disappointed seeing her wear a black gown. It was only on second sight that he realised that this dress was at least as appealing and on top the colour fitted her much better. His heart leaped in delight seeing her like that. She was dazzling.

 

The way Dilora pronounced the word ‘bread’ stirred something in the back of his mind. Today, his past seemed to be a well that kept pouring out between his fingers no matter how hard he tried to push it into the deepest and darkest corner of his mind. Leawen did not consider himself a killer, but there had been times when he had been willing to kill for a loaf of bread. With Dilora around it was simple to focus on something less troubling then his youth. Sometimes it occurred to him his past just consisted of hunger and fear. Leawen almost had the impression the bread he had bought was part of some kind of pun the girl was playing on him. She certainly had the character to deceive some prank, at least that was his impression of her, but he would not dwell on the possible meanings or implications now. Thinking would take his attention from her.

 

As he was passing Dilora on the way inside, her soft, feminine scent tantalized his nose before it was drowned out by the delicious smell of food cooking. Leawen realised that he was hungry. For Dilora and for whatever she had prepared. He did not sit down right away. With him and her standing, the wagon was rather crowded, but Leawen did not mind that.

 

He did not hide that he was openly admiring her dress and the body it accented. A girl wearing something like that knew she was gifted. A girl looking like her tonight was not shy. “You look beautiful, Dilora. And sensual.” If his eyes betrayed how he felt they had to sparkle like a little boy’s seeing a wonder. At least his deep voice was a steady rumble. “I am tempted to say you should wear that dress more often. Men like me would visit your store over and over and buy anything you put before me just to be able to look at you.” Had his tone been sincere until now, then he added a humorous note to the next line: “Are you intending to seduce someone tonight?” He gave her a quizzical look as if he was oblivious who that someone might be. Then his hands shot forward and seizing her by her hips, he pulled her tightly against him. “I think it worked.”

 

Lips met and soon Leawen was lost in a sensual, wild kiss. But the kiss ended much to soon. Coyly Dilora pressed him away from her, but since he did not let go of her hips immediately, it kind of lead to her being partially pressed even tighter against him. With a sigh his hands finally let go of her slender shape. The evening was still young and Dilora would be still there later on.

 

His eyes were still hooked to her waist and hips as she moved to stir the pot. “What have you prepared? It smells absolutely delicious.” He had still not taken the seat offered. Instead he had moved to where she stood and his finger ran down her side from her waist, over her hip and half way down her skirt. “Not as good as you smell though, Dilora.” Deciding he would soon start to annoy her soon, he finally sat down.

 

“I like your wagon. It is nice. You could almost forget we are in Tar Valon. Yes, it feels like we are somewhere in the wild. Just the two of us for miles and miles. Crickets in the bushes, the occasional wolf in the distance and some foxes.” Leawen had grown up in a bustling town, but he had not been away from Tar Valon in such a long time that his voice was not just filled with the longing for touching the woman’s skin, but also with the need to feel the freedom of the wild. “Have you ever been to Altara?” he suddenly asked. “Occasionally I miss it.”

 

Spotting the bottle of wine she had set aside, he undid the cork and poured some of the lush red into her and his glass. Leawen was still talking, telling her of the countryside deep in Altara where he had lived for so many years, while she finished to cook. Dilora was just cutting the bread when a memory struck him like a giant’s blow.

 

It appeared he had fallen silent in the middle of the sentence. And he also had the feeling he had stayed silent far to long since then. Dilora was watching him even though she pretended to not stare. The feeling of knowing her had become cold certainty. Dilora had changed since then, like a swan maturing from unappealing grey to a dazzling white. She probably did not even realise, but with that bread she had saved his life.

 

Did she realise who he was? ‘Leawen’ was a name he had adopted later. But his face and scars were memorable. Taking a zip of the wine he mumbled an apology. “I am sorry, Dilora. The past had caught up with me then.” There was a tale he rarely told, but it seemed to be a good time to bring it up now. It would buy him time and it would be a good diversion in case she had not realised or was not certain about him. “There used to be a girl I was very fond of… oh, what am I saying. She was my first real love. Talking about Altara just reminded me of her, and how she… died.” His eyes had sunk low. He had cried for her. She was the only girl he had ever shed a tear for. But right now his mind was feverishly struggling about as he wondered what Dilora knew and what she suspected.

 

If she remembered him as the useless thief that had tried to plunder her wagon, why would she invite him and welcome him into her wagon, where they were alone?  Had he had made such a pathetic impression on her then, that she did not feel endangered? Or did she think he had changed since coming to the tower? Did she not realise his past was a well kept secret no one knew about? He did not dare to think what the white tower would do, should they discover that his fingers were covered with innocent blood. But at least that she could not know. That had been much later. But how long would it take them to find out everything once she whispered what she knew in the right ears and directed them in the right direction? There were people in the yards that would be glad to get rid of him.

 

Her sending him off to get a loaf of bread really had been a wicket pun. Or was it just an innocent request? Women could be so difficult to understand.

 

Something else occurred to him. Would he have the strength to kill this woman to silence her? For an instance he felt he was panicking. He had never learned any trade or skill. Leaving the tower would mean he was back on the road and back on a patch that would eventually lead to the life of an outlaw. He yearned for freedom, but he would not go back to that.

 

“Life can be so hard. I think I would have married her. I think you would have liked her. She wasn’t as pretty as you, but her mind was cunning and she knew to deal with men. She knew how to make them wild and how to make them do as she whished with the flutter of an eye. Kind of like you are. But now she is dead for many years. I try to not think of that time. It can be too troubling. But sorry for spreading my gloomy memories. And you never answered: have you been to Altara?”

 

His mind was in turmoil. He hoped his face did not betray what he was feeling. If he could give all he owned to make Dilora forget or stay ignorant, he would not hesitate a second. But there was the gloomy feeing that she had known about him for some time. Maybe she knew since that odd moment in the tavern? Still, she had kissed him after that. Maybe this was a trap. He had been with people after encountering her that had reason to want him dead. They had tried to kill him before. Maybe she had been offered money to keep him here? Maybe she had met once of their type after leaving the tavern or after sending him off to fetch the bread?

 

Leawen had kind of started to like Dilora, and not the way he liked the usual girl he seduced. He had liked the way her eyes seemed to occasionally sparkle with mischief. He had recognised in her a strong woman. She was not the type to topple and fall in the first gust of wind. She had sense and humour. She was a real woman aware of herself. And on top he desired her body. All these affectionate feelings were dying in him now. He still wanted her though. That made him rephrase his initial question: Would he be able to seduce her, sleep with her, and then kill her?

 

All this passed through his head in a matter of seconds. Leawen felt like a blade just hitting with full vigour another weapon. That impact would decide if he could go on as before, or if his current life would scatter like a mask of glass that had fallen on stone. Leawen hoped Diloras answer would give him an indication. He feared he already knew the truth.

 

~Dilora~

 

She laughed, running a hand down her leg to smooth the dark fabric back over it.  “I’ve been to Ebou Dar many, many times, Leawen.  It’s on my peddling route.”  Dilora went on to explain where she travelled, the main roads and highways and the main cities she stopped in, and she saw his eyes glaze over slightly as she got into the boring details.  Most people did start to fall asleep when she went into the state of the roads.  The lid rattling on the pot on her small stove brought her attention to dinner being ready, and she pushed herself to her feet, probably giving Leawen a very good view down the front of her dress in the process. 

 

Dilora wondered about the woman he mentioned.  It usually happened that way – the one woman that challenged his beliefs and how his very being was composed was usually the one that made the largest impression.  Dilora wondered what had happened to her really.  Picking up a ladle from the cupboard, Dilora dished up two portions of stew and then took a knife, carving thick wedges for the both of them.  “Would you like a refill?”  Dilora gestured with the wine at Leawen, who nodded, and Dilora leaned forward and filled it.  She then handed him the plate and sat down to eat, the fork held daintily in one hand, her plate on her knee and her wine glass in the other.

 

The stew was very tasty.  If she hadn’t been hungry while it was cooking, it was certainly filling a hole now.  Her mind kept flitting back to the kiss they had shared outside the wagon and rekindled just a moment ago.  Oh, it had been a long time!  She missed it.  A bit of gravy lingered on her lip, and Dilora licked it while she saw Leawen looking at her.  And then she smiled coyly and looked down at her meal, concentrating on it with pretend confusion. 

 

Resting her fork on her plate, Dilora took a piece of the bread and mopped around to get the most from her meal.  She had just had the most amazing idea to get this Tower Guard to admit who he was.  Dilora was in the mood for a little game.  Although she genuinely liked Leawen, there was something that wasn’t quite right about him.  She needed to find out what it was, other than knowing he had tried to rob her.  When they had both finished their meals and Leawen had refused a second plate, Dilora took them both away and briefly opened the door to her wagon long enough to put the plates in her water bucket to wash up in the morning.  The cool night air made the lamp flicker briefly, casting dancing shadows over the occupants.

 

She sat gracefully back down on the cushion, adjusting her dress to fit comfortably.  “Well, Leawen, this is cosy.  I think we should play a little game.  I’ll sing the first line of a song and if you can’t supply a following line that rhymes, you have a drink.  If I can’t come up with a line, I’ll have a drink, or something – we’ll work out the finer details.  I’ll start!”  Dilora filled their cups to near brimming, not worrying for the state of the rug on the floor that covered the strongbox.  She winked at him.  “And perhaps some more kisses, if you’re good at Veracity or Venture a little later on…”

 

She sang a line to him.  “His tunic was brown and his boots they were orange.”

 

Leawen liked to think that he understood women better then most other men. But most the time women were still mysterious and this particular one was an utter mystery. Did she know who he was or did she not? In any case, she did not know the name he was using now, but how could she forget a face as scarred and angular as his? How could any woman forget the face of someone that had robbed her, or rather, had tried to rob her and had failed?

 

But with Dilora not showing a sign or even a hint of worry or tension and with her soft voice continuing to chatter merrily, the worst of Leawen’s fear just evaporated. The games she was proposing sounded like fun. Maybe Leawen could not read or do maths. He could also not swim. But singing and dancing had always been things he was talented at. But hearing the rhyme she was proposing he could not help but frown. Was there a word that rhymed with orange? Hardly. At least none he could think of. That girl was a beast!

 

Trying to match the pace she had set he sang on:

“He was looking for revenge.”

 

Then he sighed. “Oh well I assume that wasn’t such a good rhyme.” The wine she was serving was tasty. So Leawen did not have a hard time to count this round as lost. Even as he swallowed the tasty red, something came to his mind. He would kind of break the rules she had made, but he did not care much for rules anyway.

 

Lips entwined in a passionate kiss.

She is the one I will always miss.

Her body tight against my chest.

 

His eyebrows rose a little at “chest”. It was clear he wanted her to continue. Leawen did not really care if she found a suitable rhyme. For that it was too easy. His game was somewhat different. It was far more interesting which possible rhyme she would choose to continue this.

 

~Dilora~

 

Her voice rang out in the confines of the wagon, not at all fuddled by the wine she had not yet drank.  He was cunning to set such a song.  A song that hinted of what they had shared earlier, and also what might happen later.  That was very hopeful of him.  Dilora repeated his lines, and added her riposte.

 

Lips entwined in a passionate kiss.

She is the one I will always miss.

Her body tight against my chest

Until I die my soul will know no rest. 

 

There, that hinted slightly at disappointment.  She’d fulfilled her part of the challenge and it was her turn again.  Her mind tried to find something really difficult for him to rhyme with so that he’d have to drink more wine.  Back and forth it went, issuing rhymes and poorly rhymed words that resulted in the loser having a drink and about two hours later, both were feeling light-headed.  Dilora felt she was doing slightly better than Leawen was, whose speech was slurring and his rhymes becoming harder and harder to come by.  Her own speech was probably slurred and the world seemed quite rosy, particularly with the sensations in her fingers being a little dulled.  She stood to get some more wine and trod on her skirt and nearly tumbling right into Leawen’s lap, but she caught herself on the table and giggled.  Dilora refilled their cups again and sat down heavily, missing the cushion on the floor and landing on her bottom.  She rubbed it surreptitiously, fully expecting the Tower Guard to make some comment. 

 

“One more, one more!”  Dilora cried, gesturing with her wine cup as a good rhyme had come to mind.  “Rhyme with this one and then let’s change the game.”  She hiccupped and cleared her throat theatrically, thinking how she had not had so much fun in a long time.

 

“The light that lingers on his face

It paints his face in shadows.

The night time spent in loving grace…” 

 

“There!”  Dilora smiled happily and giggled at Leawen, adjusting her top because she was suddenly aware of the confines of the wagon, and how warm it seemed to be.  “Rhyme with that one, you, you Tower Guard, you!”

He had drunk too much, and he knew it. At first he had acted more drunk then he was feeling, but rhyming with Dilora had become a real challenge and with the time his last worries faded into the merry sensation of alcohol induced happiness. Well, half of it was Dilora induced happyness.

 

“The light that lingers on his face

It paints his face in shadows.

The night time spent in loving grace…”

 

Leawen only half listened to her words after the rhyme. He was kind of hypnotized by her motions. So sensual. So innocent. Did this woman not realize he was a man in the zenith of his masculinity? Did she not realize even this rhyming play was teasing him? What was her game?

 

He was getting drunk, but at the same time part of his mind was strangly sober. Seeing her giggle he realized it would be a waste to try to bed her this night. Drunk as he was it would hardly be as fun as if he was sober. And Dilora deserved to get his best. The decision kind of made him feel disappointed. And yet it was a good kind of disappointment. A smile returned to his face and his focus returned to her just in time to hear her say:

 

„…you Tower Guard, you!”

 

Smilling like a silly fool he kneeled before her. ‘You’ certainly was easer then some words she had thrown at him.

 

“You tower guard you!

I promise I will always be true

Girls lifting their skirt for me don’t matter 

I like your…“ his eyes traveled her body before finally coming to her lips. “…kisses better.“

 

Smiling as if he had just slain a fade for her he concluded: “You must admit that was a pretty good rhyme! Grace and… “ His smile only faded slowly as he saw wicked amusement gleam in her eyes.

“Oh darn… no! Girl, you robbed my brain and my wits. But that wine is tasty. We better change that game. Else… I don’t know else.” Bending closer he caressed her cheek as tenderly as he could in his state. “Tell me Dilora. What do I have to do to hear what is going on in that pretty head of yours?” Before she could answer his thumb brushed over her lips. Again her scent filled his nose and it was like a drug he could not reject.

 

“Lips like cherries

Lush and ripe

Beg for kisses

I can’t deny.”

 

The song had just come to his mind from the depth of his past. It did not sparkle because of its lyrics. But he liked the tune. Bending closer to Dilora he suddenly pulled the short dagger he carried on his belt. He hardly thought of it as a weapon.  He did not miss the surprise in her face seeing the blade being drawn. That expression hardly changed as he pressed the hilt into her palm.

 

“Well go on with your games in a moment. But now we’ll do one of my games.” He had to be desperate to propose this, but he did not care. “A night with a stunning woman, and no kisses.  Which man can stand that?” Taking his hand from hers and leaving her with the dagger he brought his face even closer to hers. “The rules are simple. I will kiss you now." His eyes looked right into her eyes. His voice was calm and clear. He meant what he said, there could not be any doubt. "If you don’t like the kiss, if you are disappointed, you may stab me.”

 

With that he pushed his lips against hers.

~Dilora~

 

He knelt before her like some visiting soldier receiving a blessing from his Queen before he rose up and kissed her.  Dilora was also knelt, but the pressure of the dagger he had pressed into her palm was more prevalent on her mind than his advancing lips.  She had time to look down briefly to see that his knees were parted to spread his weight easier and then he leant forward, his lips locking on her own.  Light, was this more passionate than the one they had exchanged earlier that day?  The front of the man though!  Attempting to seduce a woman in her own wagon by getting her drunk and … wait, hadn’t it been her idea to get him drunk?  Was she going to end up seducing him though?  Rational thought was starting to flee now and unbidden the hand without the dagger in started to creep up towards Leawen’s neck to get a better purchase. 

 

Dilora was feeling a little irritated at her lack of self-control.  Right now she wanted to forget the game, forget the loneliness that had beset her for so long on the open road.  So she had friends.  They were not really the same as a good kiss like this.  It was … soul restoring, that was what it was.  Undeniably, Leawen was a good kisser, but then by his very nature he had probably had lots of practice. 

 

Smiling in the kiss, Dilora sighed and shifted slightly.  Her hand was still on the hilt of the dagger and, however much she was enjoying this, it wasn’t on her agenda for the evening’s entertainment.  If Leawen won the next game he could have another kiss, but he was getting a little too frisky for her liking.  She broke away from Leawen’s lips and drove the dagger home.

 

Right into the cushion he was kneeling on.  And it just so happened to be right between his legs, about three inches from somewhere that he would not have appreciated a puncture in.

 

It would be easier to mend a hole in a cushion than it would be to patch up a Tower Guard, so she kissed him on the top of the nose and smiled sweetly at him.  “Leawen, love.  You’re a very good kisser, but you’re absolutely awful at coming up with games.”  She withdrew the dagger and examined the tip before using to clean underneath one of her fingernails.  “I’ll choose the next one, and we’ll need a deck of cards.  If you win, you can have your kiss.  If you lose…” Dilora waggled the point of the dagger under Leawen’s nose, watching him as he shook slightly from the shock of opening his eyes and looking down to see a hilt between his legs.  “If you lose, you lose some clothing.”  Drinking a little wine, Dilora grinned at him and waited to see his reaction to her proposal.

 

Everything was working out so perfect. He could feel her body respond to his tenderness. She even went as far as to touch him. Clearly her heart was warming while her mind was easing. And in his experience, a woman’s mind clogging was the best that could happen to a man. But Leawen’s joy was a little premature. He was just contemplating to override his prior conclusion to not bed the woman this night and save that experience for a day when he was completely sober, when he felt her move.

 

He had played that dagger game before. He had played it often in Altara, maybe a hundred times. But every time he had indulged in this sport it had been with the same woman, the girl that had died. And while Dilora could not tell, she really was honoured to play it with him. Leawen had been stabbed before and his body had developed a sense to know when pain would strike again. The way her muscles tensed were certain signs that he had lost. He had been so certain that she was pleased with his kissing, but that did not change the fact that she had every right to hurt him. He had bled in Altara too. Once the girl introducing him to this challenge had nearly killed him by plunging the blade deep into his chest. She had been devious like that. But most other times the cuts she delivered were less severe.

 

Leawen could hear the blade hit. He could feel the impact. The entire wagon seemed to vibrate. But there was no pain. Looking down, he more then just winced seeing where the dagger rested. Was this a warning? Was she trying to tell him he could kiss her all he wanted, she did not want to go further? Or was this woman just playing? He was barely able to resist the strong urge to cover a certain part of his body protectively.

 

As if it was her favourite pastime to confuse men, she bent forward and kissed his forehead like the mother he had never known, that was trying to soothe a child shaken by a sudden thunderclap. Leawen did not miss the almost malicious amusement in the woman’s eyes. He also did not miss the fun she was having chiding him playfully about his choice of game. If she thought she would break his interest, she was wrong. A woman like her would only hone his desire further.

 

“I am glad I had the dagger fixed recently. It had a shard, and if that was still in the blade I fear you would have ruined my pants.” He was half in a mood to tell her to not do that again. It was not that funny to scare a man like she had just done. “And do you realise you just wasted an awful lot of nice wine? I feel all sober again.” Pulling the dagger free from the floorboards he returned it to his sheath.  “But I am ready for any game you propose. I just have one requirement. If I am to lose clothing if I lose, you will lose clothing too, if I beat you.” Finally finding the composure again to grin, he smiled at her cheekily. “And if you wish, on top of that I feel a kiss might be good if I win.”

 

~Dilora~

 

She leant forward and kissed him on the cheek.  It was one of those lingering kisses that she knew that if she had turned and walked away just then, it would have left him standing there with a look of amazement on his face and his hand pressed to his cheek.  Letting her hand briefly touch his thigh, Dilora retrieve the dagger and she handed it to Leawen hilt first.  “Of course,” she replied jauntily, rising to fetch more wine and the deck of cards.  “I had nothing else but that in my mind.  What fun would it be otherwise?”

 

Dilora had spent more time than a lady would really admit to watching and participating in card games.  Sometimes it was the only way to get to a potential customer; sometimes the best way of relaxing and, when times were very tough she would use her last coin and participate, and hope to luck.  If nothing else she would lose the coin but gain information or a couple of drinks bought for her due to her dejected state.  On a couple of occasions she had lost but the generosity of the person that had won had been more than she could have received in a good week’s trading, but those had been rare indeed.

 

Sitting once more, this time squarely opposite Leawen, Dilora shuffled the cards and dealt the requisite number.  She hoped he knew the rules to this game, given that she had played it pretty much since her first days on the road.  Her wine was a pleasant accompaniment to the company and the evening, but she didn’t think he had got the symbolism of the loaf of bread yet.  At least, if he had, he was not showing it.  She looked at him over the top of her hand and arched an eyebrow.

 

“You know,” she began, turning her attention back to her cards. “I wasn’t quite telling you the whole truth when I said I had visited Altara before.”  Carefully, so as not to betray the faint smile on her face to his suddenly puzzled eyes, Dilora studied his face.  She was pleased to note he was a trifle unsettled.  “There was a time when I had not been peddling for long when I ventured into Altara.  I was young and foolhardy, and there was this rather handsome highwayman one time that tried to rob me.”  She took another card and totted up her hand.  It wasn’t the best hand, but she had a feeling his was not a lot better, judging by the slightly sick look on his face. 

 

“Are you okay?  You should have some wine – it’ll make you feel better.”

 

He knew the game, although he had never been good at it. Chances were good that Dilora would have him completely naked before she had even taken off her slipper. And the cards he held were not spectacular either, even if they were better then some hands he had before. But words carelessly spoken made his heart miss a beat for the second time within very short time. Leawen slapped the cards down. He did not case how they scattered to the ground. Unconsciously his hand went for the blade that was not buckled before fingering the dagger for a moment. This evening had been so pleasant. He had all forgotten about that. Why did she have to bring it back up? He forced his hand away from the weapon for now, but he was ready to draw. There was no more mirth in him. There was no more desire. He was a cornered wolf and even if Dilora was just a woman, that moment she appeared to him as dangerous as an army of trollocs.

 

“What is your game woman. What do you want?” 

 

 

 

~Dilora~

 

She laughed, smiling disarmingly at him. “Do not pay me any mind, good sir.”  Dilora thought she had mimicked the tone of a serving wench rather well and now she leaned forward to give him a good view.  “I like to win, that’s all, and I had hoped to unsettle you just a tad.”  A look of contrition appeared on her face.  “It appears it worked too well.”  She said judiciously, noting his hand had strayed towards his weapon.  Maybe she had pushed it too far. 

 

Thinking about it as an uneasy calm descended inside the wagon, Dilora would probably not want anything she was ashamed of about her past brought up and joked over.  Sincere apologies filled her expressive brown eyes, and she put her cards to one side of her. 

 

“I’m sorry, okay?”  Throwing the rest of her wine roughly down her neck, she looked at him.  She did fancy him; he had a well-turned calf and broad shoulders that would feel good holding her.  How long had it been since she had been held?  Suddenly, Dilora did not feel like playing games any longer. 

 

“I understand if you no longer wish to play the game, Leawen.  Such things must be demeaning for a Tower Guard.  I apologise for that.”  She was sorry her games had started off so nicely and then taken a turn for the worse when her teasing had struck a raw nerve, much like a lion with a thorn in his paw.  Now all she had to do was try and soothe it, and make everything better.  If there was one thing Dilora detested, it was business that concluded in a negative way.  Artful innocence painted her face, mixed half honesty and half desire, and all she could do was wait.

 

Watching her, listening to her, the anger and fear Leawen had felt slowly faded away. Not that they vanished completely, but at least the irrational behaviour anger brought with it subsided and he managed to bring himself back under control.  However, as if it was a kind of substitute, Leawen felt confusion build. Dilora looked sincere and to some degree ignorant. How much of his past did she know? Had he maybe completely overreacted? Had he worsened his situation by responding with unreasonable irritation? Would that not make her wonder about what she did not know? What could she know?

 

He could not fight the feeling Dilora was acting now. But there was sincerity in her eyes he doubted phoney. He did also not miss that she was using the appeals of her body in a soothing and arousing manner, something that could mean there really was more she knew than she admitted, but still, he was certain she had liked his kisses, and even now he thought the fire of longing was lit in her eyes. The way she secretly considered his shoulders and the muscles on his arms kind of implied that.

 

Leawen had spent so many years with the effort to bury his past, to erase it from the depths of his mind, that he no longer was certain at what stage of his criminal career he had met her. But the problem went further then the simple question of what she knew now. What could she find out, if she was to return to Altara and ask questions? What could she achieve if she was to return to the white tower and tell what she had learned? He had been a thief. He had become a highwayman. And while he did not do so in free will, he had killed. The light burn his soul, once his own gang of youngsters had been dispersed, he had joined men that had killed and tortured their victims for their entertainment. He had been a month with those human monstrosities and he would have run off the first night, had these men not watched his every move closely. They had told him, once he was part of their gang only death would divide the bond again. Light, had he known what type these man were, he would have run away the moment they had come into sight. But that hope and the feeling of remorse hardly changed his past, and the fact that he was wanted in Altara for virtually any possible crime, including murder, torture and rape. At least the later two he had not committed, even if he had been there. Not that this mattered much either. No judge would believe him and in any event, he had not prevented the crimes from being committed. But what could he have done? He could have stopped the rape as much as the victim, the girl being held down. To not force her too had been dangerous already. The woman’s screeches still filled his soul and occasionally he woke at nights dreaming of what he had witnessed. But even that seemed secondary now. He could not undo what had been woven. But he could influence how the threads were knotted now. And Dilora’s thread could severely change the way he hoped his thread would develop. What would the witches do? Would they punish him for his past crimes?

 

His mind was still urging him to kill Dilora, but his heart refused.

 

Suddenly Leawen rose. Women were a drug he could hardly refuse, but he was man enough to know when it was time to pack his charms and leave. This was one of those moments. With her near, with her shifting so delicately to give him view of her cleavage, with her skirts sliding up to display her delicate ankles, with her scent clouding his wits, he would never come to a sensible conclusion. It was far more tempting to stay and forget his worries for this night, but he could not.

 

Tonight his mind was an instable, confused mess. He had not been prepared to meet someone that knew more of him than just the last few hours of his past, the part they has shaped together.

 

“Dilora, the wine was wonderful, as were your games. I honestly did enjoy them. And many thanks for the meal. And when I will close my eyes tonight, I am sure I will dream of your eyes and your lips and of the kisses we shared. But it is late and tomorrow I am required to… to ah, guard the Aes Sedai living in the tower.”

 

Backing off to the door, he turned around one more time. “I hope you will stay here for a few more days? I hope the pattern will weave our threads to meet again soon.”

 

In truth, Leawen decided it would not be a matter of chance. He would need to seek out some place quiet. There were still a couple of hours of dark before dawn. By then he would need to come to some conclusion. By then he needed to decide what he wanted to do with this woman. Death could come quickly. Sometimes it visited men and women in their sleep, even if that was not his style. Had she been a man, he might have just made her fight him. If she killed him, good, if he succeeded, better. But fighting a woman? To Leawen that still did not seem right, even if he was forced to do that very thing often in the yards. Well, that was another detail to consider.

 

Bringing his knuckles to his forehead and also slightly bowing he finally parted.