And having Vanai fuss over him wasn’t like having his mother fuss.He had trouble defining how and why it wasn’t, but the difference remained.After another sip of wine, he decided that Vanai, even though she fussed, didn’ttreat him as if he were two years old while she was doing it. As far as hismother was concerned, he would never be anything but a child.

He took one more sip of wine, then nodded to Vanai. “Thank you,”he told her. “This is good. It’s what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and laughed, though not as if she weremerry and carefree. “I sound silly, don’t I? But I hardly know what to do whensomebody tells me that. My grandfather didn’t, or not very often, and the thingsI had to do for him. . . .” She laughed again, even more grimly than before.

“Maybe Brivibas had trouble figuring out you weren’t a baby anymore,”

Ealstan said; if that was true for his parents--especially hismother--why not for Vanai’s grandfather, too?

But she shook her head. “No. He had an easier time with me when Iwas small. He could count on me to do as I was told then. Later on ...” Now hereyes twinkled. “Later on, he never could be sure I wouldn’t do somethingoutrageous and disgraceful--say, falling in love with a Forthwegian.”

“Well, if you had to pick something outrageous and disgraceful, I’mglad you picked that,” Ealstan said.

“So am I,” Vanai answered. “A lot of my other choices were worse.”She looked bleak again, but, with what seemed a distinct effort of will, putaside the expression. Her voice thoughtful, she went on, “You know, I didn’tfall in love with you, not really, till we’d been in this flat for a while.”

“No?” Ealstan said in no small surprise. He’d fallen head overheels in love with her from the moment she’d given him her body. That was howhe thought of it, anyway.