"We agreed to eat," Calihye reminded him. She gave a sigh and began pulling on her shirt. "I would have thought you'd worked up a great and growling hunger."

As her head came up through her collar her eyes set on her lover, and Calihye's smile disappeared.

That flash of a frown clued Entreri in to his own expression. He was scowling. He didn't know why. There wasn't a singular thought in his mind that might bring a scowl to his face just then. Calihye wouldn't elicit such a thought from him, after all, for he considered her a bright spot in his miserable life. But he was indeed scowling, as her reflective frown revealed.

He wore that dour expression often of late—or had it been forever? — and usually for no apparent reason at all. Except, of course, that he was often angry—at everything and nothing all at once.

"We do not have to eat," the woman said.

"No, no, of course we should go and get some food. The morning is late already."

"What troubles you?"

"Nothing."

"Did I not please you last night?"

Entreri nearly snorted aloud at that absurdity, and he couldn't suppress a smile as he considered Calihye and recognized that she was simply goading him for a compliment.

"You have pleased me many nights. Greatly. And last night was among those," he offered to her, and he was glad to see her apparent relief.

"Then what troubles you?"

"I told you that I am not troubled." Entreri reached down and gathered up his pants and began pulling them over his feet. He stopped when he felt Calihye's hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, staring down at him, a look of concern on her face.