The boy rapped at the kitchen door and then stood, pursing his lips and tapping his foot like an old man as the moss-softened wood stayed obstinately closed. The sun was beating down so fiercely that even the shade felt like an oven, and yet the door was closed! He wondered if mages had some special magic which kept them cool in the summer. If they did, he thought a little snidely, then they should be generous and share it with people who needed it. Specifically, he thought, they should give them to people who worked in hot wooden dovecotes half the day, and ran around the dusty streets for the other half.

He knocked again, and this time there was an answering noise. He looked expectantly at the door, but it did not open. His eyes drifted upwards to one of the lead-gabled windows, and widened. A small, scaled creature was peering through. Her opalescent eyes were as curious as the boy's, but unlike him, the dragon looked quite cool and comfortable. Jolyon was decidedly uncomfortable, and so he swallowed back his pride and spoke to the animal.

"I have a message, and also it's as hot as Mithros' throbbin' spear out here. Let me in."

The dragon peeped a note at him, and then glanced back into the kitchen. If anything, she looked uncertain. Then an obstinate look set itself on her reptilian face, and she whistled a note. The door clicked, and swung open. The dragon watched him walk in with narrowed eyes, chuckled an approving note when he shucked off his dusty boots, and then ran away into the depths of the tower, presumably to pass on his message.

A swarm of cats and dogs came to greet him, and then shied away from the bright ray of sunlight the door let in. They fled back to their spot beside the pantry. There, in the cool stone belly of the tower, they looked almost chilled. The fire was unlit, but a fresh pail of water hung beside the sink. Jolyon dipped himself out a cupful and sat down with the cats, deciding to finish it off before he took another step.

A noise made him pause and look towards the inner door. It had clicked closed after the dragon, but sounds still crept through the slivers of air between stonework and timber. For a moment he couldn't place the sounds, and the cats began mewing and hissing around him as if they wanted to distract him. That made the boy even more curious, and he listened more attentively. A deep blush flooded over his cheeks as he recognised the unmistakable sounds of lovemaking.

Jolyon wondered if he should try to sneak away, but he remembered the dragon's sly look. He realised that the creature had let him in on purpose, knowing that he couldn't help overhearing.

He cringed into his palms, and then found himself laughing. Why was he embarrassed? He heard people from the village all the time, in their small huts, sweating and groaning and swearing as they rutted together. Everyone teased newlyweds about their simple smiles and absentminded clumsiness, even the children. Jolyon was more likely to be embarrassed by his own unbuttoned breeches than by walking in on someone.

But I didn't know about her and her master. He worked out, and petted one of the cats with a wry smile. I'm embarrassed 'cos I didn't know. Now I do know, so they ain't got nothing to hide from me.

The sounds grew louder, and then, after a loud, gasping cry, they faded. Jolyon found a crust of bread and munched hungrily on it, bored with waiting. He heard the dragon whistling in the other room and then answering voices – enquiring, and then slightly raised, and then a brief argument. After a few more minutes where the boy was beginning to look around for a pot of jam, the door opened and the girl stepped through. She looked almost too composed, although her hastily-gathered curls were in a tangled mess which would take hours to comb out. The dragon streamed in by her feet, looking smug.

"So it's you! What are you doing here?" The girl demanded almost immediately, fussing nervously with her left sleeve. Jolyon stood up and belched, then brushed crumbs off his knees. The cats below him complained at the unleavened rain.

"Got a message for your master."

"I already told you twice. He's not..."

"Sounds like he's masterin' something, miss."

She flushed scarlet and held out a hand, trying to look imperious and instead only just failing to look mortified with embarrassment. "I... I'll take it."

"Can't do that. Got to hand it over myself." The boy lied, enjoying watching this performance. Daine snatched her hand back as if he had burned it, and glared at him as if she knew exactly what he was doing. It didn't help matters that the dragon was sitting amongst the cats, looking from human to human with that same smug look on her face.

"Fine." Daine snapped, and whirled on her foot. The door slammed behind her, and the cats had barely finished complaining about the noise before it opened again and a man stepped through. Jolyon stood up a little straighter, because he was nervous of this man with his imposing black eyes. Even though he was several feet taller than the boy, the mage refused to stoop. Instead, he looked down his long nose and folded his arms.

"Who's the message from, lad, that you have to hand it over personally?" He asked. Jolyon blinked. The man's voice was surprisingly humorous.

"It's from the palace. Corus." He muttered, and rooted in his pocket for it. "All your messages are from there, I know, sir. But because of the war... and your lady coming to send all those messages this week... I figured it might be urgent."

"She did?" The man asked, and for a moment his sternness seemed diminished as he looked towards the door. The boy carefully filed away the mage's expression for later, and made his own face innocent as he nodded.

"Yessir. To her majesty, she said."

"Huh." If anything, the man sounded intrigued. He knelt down beside Jolyon and took the message with a polite nod of thanks. The boy returned the bow more deeply, relieved beyond words that this forbidding man didn't share Daine's quick temper. His respect turned into a deep belly-laugh when the man reached behind his ear and produced a silver piece.

"Thank you, sir." He babbled, wondering if the man knew that his fee was only supposed to be a copper. He might ask for change! But the mage smiled and gestured around the kitchen.

"Help yourself to as much food as you like. It's a long walk back and we hardly eat anything in the summer. Here." He rooted in a cupboard and produced a basket which was twice the size of a normal family's market basket. "Fill this up."

Jolyon gaped. "All of it?"

"Don't argue. I'm trying to read." The man said severely, and then sat down at the kitchen table to unroll his message. Unable to believe his good luck, the boy darted from cupboard to cupboard and filled the basket to bursting with bread, flour, eggs, cheese and even a jar of plum jam. He wondered if it were a bribe, or something, but that thought fled his mind when he recalled the way they had shared their bread with him on the night of the fire. Perhaps they were just careless about their wealth.

At his feet, the dragon whistled a note. He looked down at the same time the mage looked up.

"Your mother wants a word with you, Kit." The man said in a dark tone. The creature hooted derisively, and then caught sight of his glare. Walking with slow, plodding steps, she headed towards the kitchen door and then, looking unrepentant, darted out of the open window instead into the sunlight.

The mage shook his head wearily when Jolyon asked if he should chase her. "No need. She'll be back."

"I asked her to let me in," The boy explained awkwardly. The man gave him a level look, and then shrugged.

"If I asked you to burn my house down I hope you would say no. You would know it was the wrong thing to do. Kit's too old to pretend she doesn't know when she's up to mischief. She's been sulking for days, so I'm not surprised she did it... but that doesn't mean she can get away with it."

"No harm done." Jolyon shrugged it off with boyish indifference, and missed the momentary worry in the mage's expression.

"Not yet, no."

"Oh." The boy dropped some trail biscuits into the basket and scuffed his feet against the floor. "But the people in the village don't know anything about you, so even if I told them then they'd just think you were properly married. If I told them they wouldn't think there was anything bad about what you're doing. If I keep it secret they'll know that you're..."

"That's enough," The man held up a hand. "You are going to demonstrate the alternative option: that if you keep it secret enough, no-one will ever know that you even have a secret to tell."

"But that's no fun." Jolyon said rather plaintively. The mage looked forbidding.

"Do you want to hear the other alternative?"

"You can't scare me!" The child lied. The man smiled slowly, showing teeth.

"No, but the beautiful lady- who you just embarrassed in her own home - can. She'll ask your pigeons for every secret you have, since Kit showed you ours."

"Pigeons can barely work out where I keep their grain." The boy smirked arrogantly. "I bet they can't remember anything."

There was a soft laugh, and a small hand appeared on the mage's shoulder. "I told you he was clever," Daine said, hiding another laugh.

As soon as she spoke the man's whole bearing changed. He went from being a cool, distant figure to relaxing, his obsidian eyes warming as he looked around, his still face softening into a smile. Jolyon wondered if he had even shrunk. Daine was not much taller than he himself, and the mage dwarfed him. Next to his lover, the man seemed to fit perfectly.

"It's not a secret, anyway." The girl continued, her fingers tightening on the mage's shoulder when he frowned at her. She glanced at him, smiled briefly, and looked back at the boy with a shrug. "We just don't want everyone gossiping about us."

"Your animals are," The boy pointed out, thinking of the dragon. Daine flashed him a bright smile, suddenly looking entertained.

"Well, how about we let the cats spread the word, and when the humans finally overhear them talkin' you can join in. Do you want some lunch, Jolyon?"

He blinked at the change of subject, and before he knew it he was sitting down at the kitchen table peeling potatoes while the two adults busied themselves plucking a chicken and digging up scorched vegetables from the garden.

For a while the child sat with tense, squared shoulders. He half expected them to snap at him, or suddenly change their minds, or order him to heave heavy buckets of water from their rainbarrels like a servant. But they did nothing of the sort. When they were in the kitchen they made jokes about the hot stove and the parched garden like any of the people from the town.

As soon as the food was in the stew pot they found a flagon of juice and left the hot kitchen. They all sat down together in the shade by the north wall. Jolyon reached thirstily for the drink, and froze when Daine shook her head and handed it to the mage.

"It's a waste of magic," he said with baited words, as if he were giving an oft-repeated speech. The girl leaned back against the stone wall and closed her eyes.

"You have far too much energy, love. I know as well as you do that you could do this in your sleep. And it's hot!"

He laughed shortly and pressed his hand to the edge of the flagon. "There." He said, and gave it back to the boy. Jolyon nearly dropped it - the flagon was ice cold. He drank in delight, not noticing the smile which both adults shared as they watched him.

"I knew I kept you around for a reason." Daine told the man pertly. He grinned and caught up her hand to kiss her fingertips.

"Because I have too much energy? Or because I know how to use it?"

"Two reasons." She amended, with a slow smile. Taking the flask from Jolyon with a smile of thanks, she took a large gulp and handed it on to the man. "What did the message say?"

Numair glanced at Jolyon, who scowled back. "Don't ask me. I didn't read it! I can't..." he blushed and clapped a hand over his mouth. The mage's expression transformed from speculative into horrified.

"You can't read?"

"You're getting distracted, love." Daine pointed out, trying to save the boy's embarrassment. Numair shook his head, misunderstanding her irritation.

"No, I'll tell you later, magelet. Right now... boy, tell me the truth. Can you read?"

"My name, sir," the child said stiffly, "Is Jolyon."

"That's a no." Daine translated, and caught Numair's wrist."Please don't fuss. You're insulting him."

"Only stuck up posh noble idiots read. The rest of us can remember stuff using our heads, not bits of paper." Jolyon sniffed and folded his arms. Numair looked thunderous. Daine rolled her eyes at both of them. Obviously, trying to waylay this argument was a waste of time.

"Well, now you're just insulting each other. I'll leave you to it." She climbed to her feet and stalked into the kitchen to check the stew. Just before she left, Numair caught her arm and handed her the scrap of paper Jolyon had delivered. Daine flashed him a brief smile and then shook her arm free, giving them both an apprehensive look as she left.

"First your dragon, now your student." Jolyon belched rudely. "Does everyone here end up running away from you?"

Numair ignored the gibe and steepled his fingers before his nose. "I've not been abandoned. You, on the other hand... Daine told me your father has yet to return from the war."

The boy paled and raw pain flickered in his eyes. "You're not allowed to talk about my da."

"Someone has to." The man covered his face with his hand as if he were thinking deeply. "I'm not trying to offend you, boy. Daine wanted to speak to you herself, but she was worried you would laugh it off. I, on the other hand, expect you to listen very seriously to what I have to say."

"I don't have to listen at all." Jolyon climbed to his feet clumsily, looking around for an escape. He'd have to duck back through the kitchen, and he knew the woman was still there. Looking trapped, he stared wide-eyed at the man and pressed his hands to his hips. To his surprise, Numair hadn't moved his hand away from his face, and his words sounded sympathetic and laboured.

"What are you going to do," The mage asked in a slow voice, "If your father never comes home?"

If he had asked it as an adult, demanding and authoritative, the boy would have spat on the ground and refused to answer. But because he sounded so gentle, as if he truly cared, Jolyon simply gaped at him. Seeing him at a loss for words, Numair took a deep breath and rushed to say:

"The war's ending, and people are going back to their jobs. They might not be too keen on keeping a messenger who's untrained and... and illiterate. You can't be a courier if you can't read. We also know that the only reason you haven't starved is because the women in the village have been feeding you. The fields weren't tilled this year and it only takes one bad harvest for people's kind hearts to turn cold. And you can't keep sleeping in the dove loft forever, for Shakith's sake. Winter will arrive and you'll freeze."

"If my father never comes home. If." The boy repeated stubbornly. Numair sighed and looked him straight in the eye.

"We'll help you. I can teach you to read, and Daine can help you with the birds. Or if you want to try something else we can help you find an apprenticeship in the city, or whatever you choose. Even if your father comes home you'll still need a good trade, boy."

"Can't you remember my name?" The boy sounded irritated, but his eyes gleamed. Did they mean it? He steeled himself, made his voice insolent and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Don't think I'm taking charity."

"That's not what we're offering. You'll work hard for your letters, Jolyon." Numair leaned against the wall, looking a little vague as if he wasn't aware he was speaking aloud. "Besides, we can't leave this war half finished. There's as much to do now as there was when we were fighting, only now most people are too proud to shout for help. We have to make the world right again, any way we can. If teaching you to fit into a world that's not in flames will smooth out this corner, then that's what we'll do."

Jolyon gaped at him, stunned by the surprising turn the man's words had taken, and was answered by a shrug and a raised eyebrow as Numair added: "It's not charity. I'm not even giving you a choice."

The boy sniffed and stuck his nose into the air, feigning boyish bravado when he really wanted to whoop and run wildly around the village. Perhaps the man saw it, or understood his pride, because he hid his own smile and stood up, holding out a hand with a professional smile. "Do we have an accord?"

"Do I still have to keep your secret?" The boy grinned impishly at the man's sudden face-fault and shook the offered hand strongly. "Deal. And thank you!"

"Thank Daine. She's been worrying about you since the fire last week." Numair absently scrubbed off his palm onto his tunic and then planted it in his pocket. "I don't like to see her worried."

"But I bet she'll be re-al grateful." The long drawled out word made the tips of Numair's ears turn scarlet, but before he could glare at the boy he had darted away, guffawing with ecstatic glee at his good fortune.

"He's gone." Daine said a few minutes later, when Numair looked around the kitchen with sun-blinded eyes. She smiled. "He was so excited he almost forgot that basket, and when he picked it up he ran out without eating any lunch, shouting that he had to tell his doves all about it. That's one problem solved."

She finished by frowning a little. Numair read her expression correctly.

"Kit?"

"Kit." She nodded, looking a little concerned. "I need to... we need to talk to her."

"We can't keep scolding her." Numair looked a little irritated. "Why is she suddenly behaving so badly?"

Daine bit her lip. "I think she's jealous."

Numair opened his mouth to ask something, and then shook his head and began to clear the table. Daine was always far better at understanding the infant dragon than he was, but even he had picked up on the little immortal's resentment. Sometimes she seemed to hate Daine for spending less time with her, and sometimes she glared at Numair for stealing away her beloved mother, but whenever they tried to talk to Kit about it she would sniff and sulk and stalk off. He didn't have a clue how to even begin to talk to her.

"You like that boy," Numair commented instead, starting to find plates. Daine blinked away her serious thoughts, smiled and nodded.

"I'd like anyone who keeps their animals well informed. It proves they care."

"I'm glad." The man kissed her cheek quickly on his way past. "But he's going to drive me insane. Your strays don't usually answer back."

Daine grinned. "I'll tell him off. Driving you insane is my job."

He laughed a little ruefully, and before Daine realised where he was he caught her around the waist and turned her around to kiss the tip of her nose. "Speaking of which..." he murmured, "I've just spent a whole hour trying to stop myself from kissing you."

"...and wasted another five seconds talkin' about it." She whispered back.

He pulled a face at her, and surprised her by kissing her forehead instead of her lips. When she opened her mouth to complain he cut off the retort with a suddenly passionate kiss, smiling against her lips when he felt her arms sliding around his shoulders. It was only when he heard the sound of china breaking that he realised he had lifted her onto the table, and by that time he didn't care about the broken plates. He had already unlaced her shirt and felt her hands, just as impatient, untying his breeches and urging him closer.

In the end, it was the smell of burning which brought them back to reality, and by the time they noticed and reluctantly parted the stew was close to inedible. Daine smiled rather wickedly at Numair when he made a show of gallantly lifting her down from the table, then knelt down by the smoking stew pot. She stirred it thoroughly, licked the spoon, and then said in a careful voice, "Well, at least it's not on fire."

"Here." Numair picked up her shirt from the floor and handed it to her, taking the spoon. "If that boy comes back, I think he'd say more about you being naked than the stew being burned."

"You're expecting him to come back?" Daine's voice sounded amused, if muffled, as she pulled the shirt over her head. "Gods, then I wish you'd've at least locked the door before you grabbed me."

"If I'd planned to 'grab' you, my eloquent little poetess, we wouldn't have broken plates." He ruffled her hair and returned to picking up the shards. "You're not really complaining, are you, sweet?"

"No," She smiled and shrugged, "But sooner or later we'll have to go back to Corus, and if all we want to do is..."

"Wanting and doing are different things." He interrupted, sounding aloof, and Daine rolled her eyes.

"This week the moment either of us wanted to do anything, we did it." She pointed out, blushing a little at the memory of some of the more impulsive desires they had found themselves enjoying in the past few days. "And I'm really, really not complaining about that. I'm just sayin' that someone in Corus might just notice if we carried on like that, especially if they walked in on us goin' at it in the palace library."

"Oh." Numair looked away, and Daine hid a laugh at the odd note in his voice.

"Odds bobs! That's not a suggestion, love!"

"That's a shame. I've always had this secret fantasy where..."

"Stop that right now! We'd be arrested." The girl shook her head in mock amazement and added, "Not to mention that Jon would just love to be really, really sarcastic at us."

"Jon the Sarcastic." Numair mused, turning the word over slowly. "It's a good name for him. Enemies of Tortall will hear it and tremble."

"Oh, be serious." Daine snapped, hiding a smile. She tugged the tureen off the fire with a rag and left it on one side of the grate, pouring in a little water to see if it would improve matters. "I'm only saying all this because I read your letter."

The man nodded, paused, and left the kitchen to throw the pottery shards into the garden. When he returned he said in a more serious voice, "We can say no."

"We never say no." Daine shook her head, almost shocked by the suggestion. "Especially not when they need us to be there."

"They're just asking us to report, not to fight off Hurrocks. We could write them a letter." Numair sounded peevish, and he closed the kitchen door with a snap. "Don't you see that they're only recalling us because they know?"

"Of course they know." Daine looked nonplussed. "We both told Thayet some of it, and by now they'll have worked out the rest. She doesn't gossip, but she does keep a close eye on things. You make it sound like a bad thing."

"It is a bad thing." He looked mulish. "They're prying. There's a short distance between that and downright interfering, and they don't have the right to say a word."

"To be fair, it's a bit late for them to tell us not to do anything." The girl smiled and caught his hand, stroking his fingers in what she hoped was a soothing motion. "And if they do try to lecture you, just close your ears and think of the library."

He choked out a laugh at that. "You said the library was a bad idea."

"I said getting caught was a bad idea." She looked mischievously up at him and pulled a face until he laughed properly. Grinning back, she kissed his cheek and added: "Of course we're going."

"What about the boy?" Numair asked. Daine bit her lip, and then shrugged.

"We can take him with us if he wants to go. There's plenty of spare rooms in the palace, and he can join the underpage classes for his alphabet, and I can show him the dove tower so he knows what he's aimin' to work towards. Are you hungry?"

Numair pulled a face at the cooking pot, which was whining gently as it cooled down. "Not for that."

"Me neither." Daine laughed and pushed the pot to one side with her toe, wincing as the noxious mixture sent up a puff of scorched steam. "I'll give it to Farmer Madding for his pigs when we go to ask Jolyon to pack."

"It needs to cool down, first." Numair said in a false voice, and offered her his arm as if they were about to accompany one another to a dance. "In the meantime it occurs to me, Mistress Sarrasri, that I have yet to introduce you to the delights of my study."

"A study!" She mimed intrigue. "Why, that's almost like a library, isn't it!"

"Close." He patted her hand as they walked together, his voice oddly pompous. "My study, I think you'll find, differs from most libraries in that it holds a particularly large and comfortable chair, eminently suited to the perusal of hidden treasures."

"But no books?" She teased him, and was rewarded with a pained look of arrogant snobbishness.

"The young lady will undoubtedly find something to open which will occupy her time."

Daine couldn't help laughing at that one, muffling her giggles in Numair's shoulder. "If anyone had told me that I'd fall in love with someone who flirts using such ridiculously long words, I'd've called them a liar. I didn't even understand half of them and still I felt it, right here." She pressed her fingers to her stomach and laughed again, this time a little more heatedly. "I'm starting to think you could get me all excited just by reading out tax ledgers, Numair."

"I'm glad to be so engaging." He said solemnly, and added: "Speaking of which..."

She pulled a face and kissed him, stopping his words in a way that he couldn't really object to, even if he did smile ruefully at her when they parted. Daine looked away. That simple, perplexing expression of love and disappointment, which he wore when he watched her sleep and which she caught when she woke up in the mornings, was beginning to break her heart.