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my feet. But . . ."
    Rahl could sense the unshed tears as he looked at her standing before the doorway . . . so strong, and yet, in ways, so fragile. "Thank you for this afternoon and tonight." What else could he say? That there would be no one else? That sounded stupid. That without her, life seemed empty. True as it felt, that was almost as bad. He swallowed, then took her hands in his hoping, that she would not mind. "You know how I feel . . ."
    "Rahl . . . I can't . . . I can't do this." Tears streamed down her face. "When will I see you again? A year from now? Five? Ten?"
    He had no answer to that. Mage-guards, even senior ones, had neither the time nor the coins to make personal voyages across the Eastern Ocean. And—after having seen Tamryn's reaction to his presence—hedoubted that he would ever meet the magisters' criteria for returning permanently to Recluce. Yet . . . how could he leave Deybri?
    He wanted to shake his head. He knew she had some feeling for him, more than just some feeling, or she would not be crying, but . . .
    She raised her hand, and her fingers touched the side of his face and then his cheek. "I told you before . . ."
    "You did." His voice was ragged. "But . . . it didn't help much. Not to forget you. When I was in Luba, even before I remembered who I was, I had dreams of you." He forced a laugh, but the sound was shaky. "I kept hearing and seeing you say that the past had no hold on me, and it was so strange because you were all I could remember of the past."
    Abruptly, her arms were around him. "Hold me. Just hold me."
    He did.
    In the end, that night, it was all he did, except mingle tears with her, before he finally left and walked the long and lonely way back to the
Ascadya.
IV
    Although Rahl took a long time to fall asleep in the small ship's cabin he had to himself, he did not sleep well and was up close to dawn. He washed up, dressed in his everyday uniform, and made his way to the bridge, to watch as Captain Jaracyn readied the frigate for departure from Nylan. A faint mist lay on the harbor's surface, but it ended only a cubit or so above the water, and there was no sign of fog or mist out in the Gulf of Candar west of the harbor.
    As the gangway was hoisted aboard and smoke began to issue from the funnels, Rahl lifted his eyes from the ship and the piers to the black city, lit by the orangish first rays of the sun. The expanses of green between the black-stone roads and buildings seemed more vivid in the early light, and the shadows somehow both darker and more indistinct. From where he stood, he could not see Deybri's small cottage, a dwelling he had never even entered.
    He could understand how she felt. His first eightdays in Swartheld had been difficult, and they hadn't gotten any easier for almost a year, no thanks to the magisters in both Land's End and Nylan. In one respect, both sets of Recluce magisters were alike—they didn't want anyone different around, and they didn't want to change their ways.
    He pursed his lips, thinking. He hadn't seen that people were that much different in Hamor. So why were the mage-guards more tolerant? Was it because Hamor was so much larger that there were places for different people? Or was it because all mages were closely supervised? Or because there were fewer mages for the number of people, and they were seen as more necessary? Or were they really more tolerant? Was he just seeing what he wanted to see?
    "You're deep in thought," observed Taryl, joining him on the open wing of the bridge. "Did you have a good dinner?"
    "Dinner was good. So was the company." Rahl fumbled with his wallet. "I owe you some silvers. It didn't take nearly so much as you gave me."
    Taryl held up his hand. "Keep it. We were each given a gold for incidentals. Usually, what we get for these sorts of expenses is never enough. Just be thankful that it was."
    Rahl sensed the truth of the angular mage's words, but keeping the silvers bothered him.
    "Believe me, Rahl,