Luck in the Shadows

prying at it with the tip of his knife. The shell immediately crushed into fragments under the blade. Water, broken spines, and bits of soft grey and yellow matter splattered up the front of his robe.
    "Excellent!" Seregil laughed, tossing him a napkin. "Whenever you present yourself as an inland noble on his first visit to the coast, do it just that way. I've never yet seen anyone get through their first urchin without smashing it to bits. Now, if you were in some local tavern, posing as a workman or farmer in for market day, you'd do it like this."
    Picking an urchin out of the dish with a light, sure touch, Seregil cracked it against the edge of the table and pulled back the fragments of shell to expose the contents.
    "These grey bits here are the body. You don't eat that," he explained, scraping them out with a finger. With them came a conical ring of white fragments that looked like tiny carved birds. "And those are the teeth. It's the yellow parts you're after, the roe."
    Plucking out several slender, gelatinous lobes, Seregil ate them with apparent relish.
    "I got them at the docks early this morning," Cilia told him. "I made the fisherman give me a bucket of seawater and kept them down the well all day."
    "Lovely flavor!" Seregil tossed the emptied shell into the fire behind him. Wiping his hands and lips with a
    napkin, he said, "Those are tavern manners and they'll serve well anywhere outside the Noble Quarter, provided you want to be taken for a common sort. However, we are dining in Silvermoon Street, as you recall, and here they will not do at all. Observe.
    "First, the hanging sleeves of a formal robe are pushed—never rolled—halfway back to the elbow, no farther. You may place your left elbow on the table, never the right, although it's generally acceptable to rest your wrist on the edge. Food is handled with the thumb and first two fingers of each hand; fold the others under, like so. Good. Now pick up the urchin with your left hand, handling it lightly, and hold it so you can see the mouth. Now, crack the shell with a single sharp stroke of your knife. Once it's open, clean out the waste with the tip of your knife, then use your spoon to scoop out the roe. The empty shell goes on your plate. Never speak with a full mouth. If anyone addresses you, simply curve a finger in front of your lips and finish what's in your mouth before answering."
    Alec managed to puncture himself badly on the spines before he mastered the art of handling the things, and his fingers kept cramping from being held back so unnaturally. The roe, when he finally managed to extract a few intact lobes, had an unpleasantly viscous texture in his mouth and it's salty sweet flavor was revolting. Relying heavily on the pale, oak-flavored wine, he managed to get two down before his stomach rebelled.
    Grimacing, he pushed his plate away.
    "These are awful! I've found better eating under rotten logs."
    "You don't care for them?" Seregil deftly split his fourth urchin. "We'll have to cultivate your tastes, I'm afraid. In Rhнminee, just about anything that comes out of the sea is considered a delicacy. Perhaps you'll find this next course more to your liking." He motioned to Cilia. "Have you ever tried octopus?"
    As the weeks passed, Seregil remained frustrated by Alec's poor progress at swordplay. The situation finally came to a head during one of their morning sessions a month or so after their arrival.
    "Keep your left side back backslash was he chided for the fifth time in half an hour, giving the offending shoulder a sharp poke with his wooden blade.
    "Stepping forward like that after you block gives your opponent twice the target. Your enemy has only to do this—"
    Seregil slapped Alec's blade smartly aside and feigned a cut across the boy's belly. "And there you are, holding your guts in your hands!"
    Alec silently positioned himself again, but Seregil could see the tension in his stance. The boy turned his next feint clumsily, then brought his shoulder around again as he tried a counterattack.
    Before he could stop himself, Seregil parried and gave him a sharp tap across the neck. "You're dead again."
    "Sorry," Alec mumbled, wiping the sweat out of his eyes.
    Seregil cursed himself silently. In all the time he'd known him, this was the first time he'd seen the boy look defeated. Fighting down his own impatience, he tried again. "It's not natural to you yet, that's all. Try imagining how you'd hold yourself pulling a bow."
    "You