[Undómë]

She has a rare and much practiced gift, Emlin. She is a master thief. thought Telu, coming to stand alongside Emlin. Her eyes twinkled merrily as she looked at the woman, noting with a smile that Losse had placed her hands behind her back. Nerves, she wondered. Or simply putting them out of temptation’s way?

‘Oh, Losse!’ she said, stepping close enough to touch the woman lightly on the arm. ‘Had my brother’s plans gone his way, there might have been no problem in making you a loan.’ She laughed, a silvery sound, like small bells caught in a sudden breeze. ‘But Emlin, here, has no great store of wealth.’ She nodded toward where the players were setting up their puppet stage and bringing out their drums and such instruments as would fill in between the dialog. She reached toward his belt from which hung his small silver pipe in a plain leather case. ‘Here is his wealth. That and his traveling companions.’

She touched the small purse that hung at her belt. ‘And I have only a few coins, and the hope of more quite lost to me now that I’ve crossed Tindomion’s wishes. Of course, you could approach Tindo, be you brave enough. Though I would not advise it. He is not overly fond of Men.’

Farael had come up in a rush to stand beside Losse. ‘She has asked us for a loan,' she said in reply to him. '. . . to accomplish your dream.’ She nodded as a sudden thought came to her. ‘It is a sudden dream, is it not?’ she asked. She laughed again. ‘But who am I to judge that?’ Her eyes darkened and grew more serious. ‘I have explained to her how our wealth has suddenly dwindled. Is there no other way your plans can be realized?’

Her brow wrinkled, she looked from one to the other. ‘What exactly are your plans, anyway? Travel about together, selling goods here and there . . . or . . .?’

And what plans have you for each other? she wondered to herself . . .