Luck in the Shadows

meats, yellowed hay, and the last sour tang of the cider presses from the farmsteads they passed along the way.
    They'd ridden for some time in comfortable silence when Seregil turned to Alec and asked, "I suppose you're wondering why I didn't tell you sooner?"
    "You never say much about yourself," Alec replied with a touch of reproach. "I've gotten used to not asking."
    "Delicate manners will get you nowhere with me," Seregil advised, nonplused. "Go on, ask away."
    "All right. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
    "Well, at first it was because you had so many misconceptions about the faie," replied Seregil. "You seemed to think we were all great mages or nectar-sipping fairy folk."
    Alec's cheek went hot as he recalled the childish fancies he'd shared with Seregil in their first days.
    Seregil shot him a sidelong grin. "Oh, you northern barbarians do have some strange notions. Anyway, I decided I'd better let you get used to me first. Then I got sick."
    He paused, looking a little sheepish himself. "I've been meaning to tell you since we got to the city, really, but—I don't know. The right moment just didn't seem to come. What I said to Nysander is sort of true; I am proud of you for figuring it out on your own. What else would you like to know?"
    What wouldn't I like to know! thought Alec, wondering how long this strange humor of Seregil's would last. "How old are you?"
    "Fifty-eight, come Lenthin month. In the reckoning of my race, that doesn't make me all that much older than you, though I've certainly had more experience. It's difficult to draw comparisons between Aurлnfaie and human ages; we mature differently. Under Aurлnfaie law, I'm not old enough yet to marry or hold land." He chuckled softly. "For the most part, I've done very well for myself in Skala."
    "Because you're related to the Queen?"
    "To some degree, though it's a very distant and threadbare tie. Just enough to have gotten me an introduction and a place as a high-class servant.
    Lord Corruth, consort to Idrilain the First, was a cousin of my grandmother's mother. My claim to Skalan nobility is a tenuous one at best."
    Alec'd had hints enough from both Micum and Nysander to know better than to ask Seregil why he'd left Aurлnen in the first place. "What's it like there, in Aurлnen?"
    Seregil rode on in silence for a moment, his face half turned away. Alec feared he'd taken a misstep after all and was about to take back the question when Seregil began to sing.
    The language was unfamiliar, yet so liquid, so graceful in the ear that it seemed Alec could almost grasp it—and that if he did it would reveal a depth of meaning his own language could never achieve. The melody, simple yet haunting and full of longing, brought tears to his eyes as he listened.
    Seregil sang it a second time, translating so that Alec could understand.
    "My love is wrapped in a cloak of flowing green and wears the moon for a crown.
    And all around has chains of flowing silver.
    Her mirrors reflect the sky.
    O, to roam your flowing cloak of green under the light of the ever-crowning moon.
    Will I ever drink of your chains of flowing silver and drift once more across your mirrors of the sky?
    Looking out across the empty winter fields, Seregil said in a husky whisper, "That's what Aurлnen is like."
    "I'm sorry." Alec shook his head sadly. "It must be painful, thinking about your own country when you're so far away,"
    Seregil shrugged slightly. "Yri nala molkrat vy pri nala estin."
    "Aurлnfaie?"
    "An old proverb. 'Even sour wine is better than no wine at all.»
    Afternoon shadows were creeping down the hills as Seregil turned from the highroad and led the way onto a stone bridge over a large stream. A flock of swans grazing in the bordering field took flight at their approach, rising into the air with a great beating of wings.
    Unslinging his bow with surprising speed, Alec brought down two of the great birds and nudged Patch into a canter to retrieve them.
    "Well shot!" Seregil called after him, turning his horse loose to drink. "Just yesterday I was wondering if you were out of practice."
    Alec rode back with the birds slung from his saddlebow. "Me, too," he said, dismounting to let Patch drink. "At least I won't come in empty-handed. Are we almost there?"
    Seregil pointed up the valley. "That's Watermead. We'll have missed supper but I'm sure Kari won't send us to bed hungry."
    A few miles above them they could see open meadows and a cluster of buildings nestled against