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curiosity and quick mind.
Some of the artifacts were Aurënfaie, and he seemed to take
particular delight in telling Nysander what he knew of them. One
case held a display of sen’gai, the distinctive head cloths each
clan wore.
    “That one’s Khatme,” Seregil said, pointing
to a red and black weave. “And that’s Golinil, and Virésse. What
are they doing here?”
    “Gifts to various wizards who traveled in
your land, before the Edict of Separation. Do you recognize the
green one?”
    As he’d expected, a brief look of pain
betrayed the young man. “Yes. That’s Bôkthersa.” He moved on to a
case filled with Zengati seal rings and after a few minutes
Nysander noted that he was now avoiding any case that contained
Aurënfaie things.
    “It would take weeks to see everything!”
Seregil exclaimed at last.
    “Indeed. And you are welcome to come back any
time to you like to explore. We also have a very fine library.”
    Seregil looked like he’d just been given his
heart’s desire. “Thank you, my lord!”
    “Please, you must call me Nysander, if we are
friends now.”
    Seregil smiled. “Thank you, Nysander. I
deeply appreciate all that you’ve done for me.” Just then his belly
gave a loud gurgle.
    “Dinner time already?” Nysander laughed. The
afternoon had flown by. “Dine with me, Seregil, and then I’ll send
you back to the palace in a carriage.”
    Seregil grinned. “Better than the way I got
here.”
    Over dinner they talked of what they’d seen
in the museum, and a little about Seregil’s life at court.”
    “I understand you are no longer a junior
scribe,” said Nysander, chancing a conversational dead end. “May I
ask why?”
    Seregil gave him a rueful smile. “Emidas
slapped me, and I dumped an ink pot over his head.”
    “Why would he slap you?”
    “I hit one of the other junior scribes with a
book,” he replied with an almost crooked smile. “But only because
he insulted me.”
    “I see. And what have you been doing,
since?”
    “I was in the household honor guard.”
    “Was,” Nysander noted. “Did you hit someone
else?”
    It was as if a wall had come down between
them. “No,” Seregil replied, looking down at his plate.
    Seregil had admitted so readily to his other
infractions; what in the world had he done? Something to do with
Phoria, judging by his outburst in the garden, and something that
had left Seregil furious rather than shamed. Nysander again
resisted the urge to touch the young man’s mind. He had other, more
scrupulous channels of inquiry, palace gossip being what it
was.
     
    ***
     
    Within the week Nysander learned that
Seregil’s last offense had been his affair with Prince Korathan.
Apparently it was Princess Phoria who’d taken exception. She had
far too much hold over her brother, as far as Nysander was
concerned. The prince was old enough to make his own choices, and
why in the world would Phoria care, anyway? Seregil didn’t speak of
Korathan, and was evasive when Nysander tried to sound him out.
Apparently that relationship was truly over. That was regrettable;
as far as he knew, Seregil hadn’t made any other friends.
    He kept this knowledge to himself, and
Seregil came to see him nearly every day, exploring the museum and
library. The boy seemed even more thrilled by the Orëska House’s
elaborate bath chamber, but that wasn’t all that surprising with an
Aurënfaie, the cleanest of people. Much of the science of the
indoor bath, including the piping of hot water under tiled floors
to warm them, had been learned from them.
    Seregil began to be known around the House.
In fact, he seemed to be spending as much time as possible here,
even when Nysander was too busy to visit with him. The keepers of
the library and museum welcomed him, and Seregil began to make
friends. People seemed drawn to him, whether for his good looks or
sharp mind. He had winning ways, too, when he wanted to, and could
be very charming and humorous. He made friends