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to it.”
    Free from the line, we didn’t have any excuse to stay together. But I was enjoying her company and she didn’t seem terribly eager to run off, so the two of us wandered the courtyard aimlessly, the crowd milling around us.
    “I’m starving,” Fela said suddenly. “Do you want to go have an early lunch somewhere?”
    I was painfully aware of how light my purse was. If I were any poorer, I’d have to put a rock in it to keep it from flapping in the breeze. My meals were free at Anker’s because I played music there. So spending money on food somewhere else, especially so close to admissions, would be absolute foolishness.
    “I’d love to,” I said honestly. Then I lied. “But I should browse around here a bit and see if anyone is willing to trade slots with me. I’m a bargainer from way back.”
    Fela fished around in her pocket. “If you’re looking for more time, you can have mine.”
    I looked at the tile between her finger and thumb, sorely tempted. Two extra more days of preparation would be a godsend. Or I could make a talent by trading it away. Maybe two.
    “I wouldn’t want to take your luck,” I said, smiling. “And you certainly don’t want any part of mine. Besides, you’ve already been too generous with me.” I drew my cloak around my shoulders pointedly.
    Fela smiled at that, reaching out to run her knuckles across the front of the cloak. “I’m glad you like it. But as far as I’m concerned, I still owe you.” She bit at her lips nervously, then let her hand drop. “Promise me you’ll let me know if you change your mind.”
    “I promise.”
    She smiled again, then gave a half-wave and walked off across the courtyard. Watching her stroll through the crowd was like watching the wind move across the surface of a pond. Except instead of casting ripples on the water, the heads of young men turned to watch her as she passed.
    I was still watching when Wilem walked up beside me. “Are you finished with your flirting then?” he asked.
    “I wasn’t flirting,” I said.
    “You should have been,” he said. “What is the point of me waiting politely, not interrupting, if you waste such opportunities?”
    “It isn’t like that,” I said. “She’s just friendly.”
    “Obviously,” he said, his rough Cealdish accent making the sarcasm in his voice seem twice as thick. “What did you draw?”
    I showed him my tile.
    “You’re a day later than me.” He held out his tile. “I’ll trade you for a jot.” I hesitated.
    “Come now,” he said. “It’s not as if you can study in the Archives like the rest of us.”
    I glared at him. “Your empathy is overwhelming.”
    “I save my empathy for those clever enough to avoid driving the Master Archivist into a frothing rage,” he said. “For folk such as you, I only have a jot in trade. Would you like it, or not?”
    “I would like two jots,” I said, scanning the crowd, looking for students with a desperate wildness around their eyes. “If I can get them.”
    Wilem narrowed his dark eyes. “A jot and three drabs,” he said.
    I looked back at him, eyeing him carefully. “A jot and three,” I said. “And you take Simmon as your partner the next time we play corners.”
    He gave a huff of laughter and nodded. We traded tiles and I tucked the money into my purse: one talent and four . A small step closer. After a moment’s thought, I tucked my tile into my pocket.
    “Aren’t you going to keep trading down?”Wil asked.
    I shook my head. “I think I’ll keep this slot.”
    He frowned. “Why? What can you do with four days except fret and thumb-twiddle?”
    “Same as anyone,” I said. “Prepare for my admissions interview.”
    “How?” he asked. “You are still banned from the Archives, aren’t you?”
    “There are other types of preparation,” I said mysteriously.
    Wilem snorted. “That doesn’t sound suspicious at all ,” he said. “And you wonder why people talk about you.”
    “I don’t wonder why