[Anguirel]

Aerwen nodded when the player pronounced his first name; she had left it unspoken initially quite on purpose, partly as a test, partly because the fellow was rather celebrated, and she didn't want to let any obvious realisation of this compromise her dignity. She approved of his response, though it might seem weary and strictly speaking not even very courteous. The man seemed as straightly forged as the sword at his belt, and that, too, was more reassuring, than what part of her mind had pictured; a fluent youth with a quip and a glance everything, perhaps, a handsomer version of her brother Sador; instead of which, the resemblance to her brother-in-law, Amlach, was particularly decided.

Without further conversation, she mounted the little jig again, beckoning Aldarion to come up with her. The small solidity of this carriage left a strange architectural effect, as if they were hiding in the stone alcove of some great hall in the citadel; and yet every ring and jolt of the droshsky bouncing on the cobbles reminded them of quite the reverse.

"I know something more of you," Aerwen began again with hesitant decision, "than you might expect, Master Aldarion, though I have never seen you play; I have purchased every script of the Swan Players' productions for a number of years, to read in my hours of leisure. Assuredly, alas, such scripts are pirated, partial, gravely defective, but they have always given me great satisfaction; especially 'The Golden King'. It is a shame our much-loved Amlach had to be away rehearsing, but I cannot deny that 'Tar-Ancalime' much excites me in prospect..."

Her speech trailed off into a note of tentative questioning, as they left the Third Circle and entered the main traffic of the Fourth.