“I’d imagine you would have. It’s not everyone has a ty’iga following him about, periodically seducing him in various forms, and making life, in general, very complicated with unwanted efforts at protection.”

“It shows that I care, dear.”

“It also shows that you have no respect for my privacy nor trust in my judgment.”

Mandor cleared his throat.

“Hello, Dara,” he said then.

“I suppose it must seem that way to you,” she stated. Then, “Hello, Mandor,” she went on. “What happened to your arm?”

“A misunderstanding involving some architecture,” he replied. “You’ve been out of sight, though hardly out of mind, for some time.”

“Thank you, if that’s a compliment,” she said. “Yes, I go a bit reclusive every now and then, when the weight of society becomes troublesome. Though you’re hardly the one to talk, sir, vanishing far long stretches as you do in the labyrinths of Mandorways — if that be indeed where you take yourself.”

He bowed.

“As you say, lady, we appear to be creatures of a kind.”

Her eyes narrowed, though her voice was unchanged, as she said, “I wander. Yes, I can sometimes see us as kindred spirits, perhaps even more than in our simplest cycles of activity. We’ve both been out and about a lot of late, though, haven’t we?”

“But I’ve been careless,” said Mandor, indicating his injured arm. “You, obviously, have not.”

“I never argue with architecture,” she said.

“Or other imponderables?” he asked.

“I try to work with what is in place,” she told him.

“Generally, I do, too.”

“And if you cannot?” she asked. He shrugged.

“Sometimes there are collisions.”

“You’ve survived many in your time, haven’t you?”

“I can’t deny it, but then it has been a long while. You seem made of very survivable stuff yourself.”