Diavla was still stunned, as Tom started leading them toward their next destination. Her face was hot and her soul raced, as she imagined different possibilities. She was embarrassed even thinking about some of them while walking down a city street full of strange humans.

“He can't be serious,” Varga argued. “He got the Elvish wrong. Right?”

“Maybe. We'll have to ask Eubexa later, if Tom trusts her with this, at least.”

“We're talking about a totally evil, really powerful magical work, Dee. How is Tom getting it for only twenty-five gold?”

“It must have restrictions, or weaknesses. Also, you know that Tom has a spine of mithril when it comes to negotiation.”

“For a moment there, I thought Tom was going to puke,” Varga observed. “Then I thought he was going to punch a stone wall, and I wouldn't have bet coin on the wall winning.”

“He's unelvenly strong, Varga, but his strength isn't…magical…” Dialva trailed off as a wild thought occurred to her.

“Wait. Is it?” Varga asked, surprised and curious.

“I don't know. I'll have to ask him.” I need to observe Tom with spirit-sense when he's training. Maybe that's what he uses magic for. Maybe it's instinctive. Come to think of it, what do spirit-touched humans do, if they never receive any training?

“Saa, don't distract me. What passes with you? What are you thinking of doing with that collar if you get it?”

Diavla felt her face heat again.

“Who are you imagining wearing it?” Varga pressed. Diavla pressed her lips together and said nothing. “Not me, right?” Diavla's eyebrows went up and she looked at her friend and lover.

“Would you?” she asked, curious.

It was Varga's turn to get a red face. “No! Not for anyone!” After several heartbeats, she mumbled, “…anyone, but you…”

Diavla took a sharp breath. She was about to answer when Varga added, very quietly, “…and you wouldn't even need it, for me.”

Now, Diavla stopped short and stared at Varga, stunned by her confession. Varga stopped too, eyeing the ground, unwilling to meet her gaze. It took Diavla a few moments to find her voice, so instead, she hugged Varga hard. Swallowing, she whispered in her lover's ear, “I don't deserve the honor of such tolanor, but I will try my very best to be worthy of it.”

“You already are, my tolanor.”

After a few more seconds, they broke off the hug and hurried to catch up to Tom before he could notice that they were lagging behind.

Varga wouldn't let the topic of the collar go, though. “So, if it's not for me, who is it for? You're not going to try to put it on Tom, are you? He wouldn't ever accept it. You saw how terrified he was just putting on a normal collar, and he only did that once to earn our trust…” She trailed off.

Diavla could sense the moment Varga put it together. “Dee…” Diavla stared straight ahead at Tom's back and didn't say anything. “But, Dee, I thought you liked being in command—especially lately.”

“No! I mean, not normally, at least. I've only been the leader of our group because someone had to.” Diavla had felt the weight of leadership and didn't care for it, but having one of the others as leader would have been worse.

“But, with me?”

“With you, I was hungry for it. Desperately hungry. I don't know why. But, that's not me, I don't think. It's …strange.”

They walked a bit in silence, as they each digested the conversation so far.

“I'm not saying I would actually do it,” Diavla claimed, finally. “I mean…it's just…something to think about. Interesting to imagine. I can imagine things and not do them, you know.”

“Saa…”

“I can! You're the impulsive one!”

“Mm. So, you like to imagine things like that, huh?”

“Can we change the subject, please?”

“Mm. For now. Maybe. There's a very important question to think about, though,” Varga continued, uncharacteristically serious. “What does Tom want to do with it? Melt it down? Turn it over to the City Guard? Use it on one of us?”

“I'm not sure. I mean, I was wondering if he had the same idea I had, and how he felt about it.”

Varga shook her head. “No.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he didn't turn red as an apple when he was talking about it. He's got something less…playful in mind. And he probably thinks you do, too.”

Diavla's soul churned that, for a minute. Then her eyes widened. “Spirits, he could command Eubexa to feel one-eighth the pain…!”

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A heartbeat later, Varga was nodding. “Now that sounds like Tom. But, it won't work.”

“Why not?”

“Because there is no way in the world and sky that Eubexa would ever consent to wearing it. Ever.”

Diavla felt disappointment on Eubexa's behalf. “You're right. She wouldn't.”

“Of course,” Varga mused, “we could just tell her it's a pain-control device and then never use it for anything else…”

“Assuming that would even work, would you want to be tricked into wearing that thing?”

Varga sighed, sounding annoyed. “No, of course not. You know, I really hate it when you think too much, Dee. I liked it better when you just made Tom kiss you while he was wearing a slave collar.”

“Varga, that was wrong of me. I don't even know why I did it!”

“I can explain, if you need a drawing…”

“Shut up. Obviously, I wanted to kiss him.”

“And he wanted to kiss you. And you two are just piling shit between you. It was nice to see you get past that, at least for a moment. Even if you think you can't lie together, you should at least be kissing each other whenever you both want!”

“We can't…” Diavla protested weakly.

“Yes, you can, you're just both being stubborn in a stupid way. If I ever got that collar on Tom, I'd order him to pin you down and ravish you until you both got your heads on straight.”

Diavla was suddenly having trouble breathing and felt something stir in her core. “Don't ever tease me again with that,” she pleaded.

“If this is the only way I can get you warm and wiggly, Dee, then I'll tease you until you see stars and metals,” Varga threatened.

“Do I want to know what you two are saying?” Tom called back to them.

“No!” Diavla answered, at once. Tom turned and raised an eyebrow. Varga cleared her throat, apparently having mercy on her tolanor, at last.

“Where we go, Tom?”

“We go to Whistler's,” Tom answered. “We get clothes for Eubexa. And, I ask questions.”

It was a lot easier to recognize what Tom was saying in Western, than to replicate it herself. When either of them spoke in the other's language, they sounded like a small child. Little words like to and for constantly tripped Diavla up. So far, they had focused on getting their ideas across, more than on speaking correctly. With Eubexa's help, she might be able to speak Western properly, someday.

It wasn't much farther to Whistler's. When they arrived, Diavla saw that the building was still decorated in black. Tom walked around to the side door they had used previously. But before he could knock, the door opened. Instead of Vanity Taylor, as Diavla had expected, Mrs. Whistler was there, wearing a black veil, and escorting a tall, thin man with white hair.

“Oh, hello. Mr. Law, I (something something) see you here.” Apparently, Tom knew the man, but he appeared to be surprised.

“Mr. Walker,” the man replied. Diavla didn't understand the rest of what he said, but Mrs. Whistler jumped in with some sort of explanation, just a bit too quickly. Diavla did her best to keep her expression from changing. Someone has a secret.

“And who have we here?” Law asked. The man looked them over rapidly, then focused on their faces.

“Mr. Simon Law, may I (something) Diavla Urula and Varga Morovel, formerly of Kinder Vald in the Elf Lands. Diavla, Varga, this is Simon Law. He is the lawyer I asked for (something).” Diavla was proud of herself for remembering the word lawyer. Tom repeated himself in Elvish as best he could. “Um…He is man I ask, slaves, elves, I go Rivermarch one.”

Law said something short that sounded polite, and inclined his head, respectfully. Diavla copied the motion, and answered, “Hello, Mister Law. I am happy I see you. Thank you, you say Tom good and bad.”

“Hello,” Varga said, then grinned and added, “Sorry, that's about all the Western I know.” The humans looked amused. Diavla marveled at the way Varga could put people at their ease, just with her smile and obvious goodwill.

Simon Law excused himself, exchanging words with Mrs. Whistler, briefly. Diavla had no idea what they said, but she could hear from the way they slightly stressed certain words that they were communicating on more than one level. It didn't sound like secret talk between lovers, either. She supposed that it might be easier to hear the tone without understanding the words. A glance at Tom didn't make it clear whether he had noticed or not.

Mrs. Whistler spoke with Tom a minute, then invited them into the workroom. Tom didn't take a seat, so neither did Diavla, and Varga followed her lead. Sure enough, Mrs. Whistler only rummaged through some small pieces of cloth for a few moments, then pulled out a couple of veils. One was white, and the other gray.

The older woman eyed both pieces critically, then moved to a worktable. With a few deft motions, she fixed some small defect in the white one, then put both in a bag and handed it to Tom. He made as if to pay, and she scolded him. Diavla missed most of it, but understood part at the end, said quietly and fervently.

“…kill the (something something) for me.”

Tom nodded, thanked the tailor again, and made to leave.

“Diavla?” Mrs. Whistler called, then beckoned. Diavla glanced at Tom, who raised his eyebrows, then shrugged and stepped outside along with Varga. Diavla approached the tailor.

“Yes, Mrs. Whistler?”

The woman waited a few moments, as if making sure Tom had left the building and couldn't hear. “Is Tom good to you?”

Diavla sighed in relief, and nodded. “Yes, Tom is very good …to… us.”

Mrs. Whistler smiled a bit, but pointed at Diavla. “No, is Tom good to you?”

Diavla felt herself smiling more. “Yes, Mrs. Whistler, Tom is very good to me. I like Tom very much.”

“Did Tom tell you where you (something)?”

“Yes. He say dangerous. He ask elves, we stay with Rivermarch, we go with Tom. I want go with Tom. I think all want go with Tom. Maybe Eubexa, no. She is very sick.”

Mrs. Whistler said something that sounded sympathetic. Then she narrowed her eyes and frowned, thoughtfully staring at Diavla's chest. “You need…?” and gestured at the seam under Diavla's left arm.

“No, and thank you. Tom like see me. I like Tom like. Very good dress.”

“I see. I am (something).” Mrs. Whistler smiled. “Thank you, Diavla. Go with Tom.”

“Yes, Mrs. Whistler.” Diavla opened the door, and Tom looked up from a conversation with Varga.

“Oh! Mrs. Whistler.” Tom apparently had forgotten something. He stepped back inside, and the door closed. Diavla listened closely, holding up two fingers to her lips so Varga would stay quiet.

Tom seemed to be telling the tailor some kind of story. She heard the Western words for ‘dream’ and ‘magic’ somewhere in the middle. Finally, he told the woman, “I dreamed I heard your husband. He said, ‘Tom, tell my wife I love her.’ ” When she heard Mrs. Whistler crying, she stepped away from the door to grant her more privacy. She chatted with Varga in low tones, explaining as much as she understood of the conversations. When Tom finally stepped out to join them, he blinked his eyes hard a few times, his face grim. They exited the alley and resumed their walk uphill without conversation, leaving Diavla alone with her thoughts.

So. Tom is a dream-talker.

Soon, they were approaching the area around the Keep. Diavla couldn't help but hope they were going back to Sally's Sweets, but Tom turned in the opposite direction, away from the wonderful shop and asked a passing woman for directions to the Library. Diavla nodded. Saa, now we will finally find out what this place is about. She looked forward to it with curious anticipation.