Free Second Kiss by Robert Priest

he stood up on his chair and shoved her quite hard. “Go away!” he bellowed, teetering slightly on his perch. She nodded and groped her way toward a chamber on the other side of the smithy. Mumbling to himself bitterly, Glittervein made his way over to a small table only a few feet away from the glass through which Xemion covertly observed him.
    Glittervein, like all Nains, was short and broad­shouldered, but he had particular thick arms and the sinews in them rippled with his every movement. One side of his long auburn hair flowed down over the side of his face while the other side was flung back over his shoulder, where it coiled down his back almost to his waist.
    He removed a small pot of ink, a sheet of paper, and a quill pen from a drawer and set them on the table in front of him. For a second Xemion thought the Nain must be able to read, but when he did finally place the quill tip to the paper it was obvious that he was drawing something on it. Xemion strained to get a better look.
    Just then Glittervein lifted his head and looked right at Xemion. Xemion felt the gaze lock into him and grab hold of him and then it seemed to go right through him. Frozen with fear, Xemion realized that Glittervein couldn’t see him and was actually staring at his own reflection in the window glass. Xemion remained motionless, staring right into the unknowing right eye of the Nain. The right side of Glittervein’s face had very delicate features, but as Xemion watched, the Nain, who was deep in thought, flung back his hair and turned the other side of his face toward the glass. Xemion had already heard from Lirodello that the Nain’s face had been severely burnt in a kiln fire accident, but he was unprepared for how terribly damaged it was. It was as though someone had taken a wax image of a face, scorched it, and then smeared it over to one side. It was a scarry purple colour, its surface evenly pitted like rapidly boiling porridge.
    Glittervein shook his head at his reflection and then proceeded to comb the long auburn hair back over his disfigurement, all the while gazing not only into his own eyes but also those of his silent observer.
    Finally he returned to his picture. Xemion squinted to better see what the Nain was drawing. It appeared to be a crude representation of crossed swords. When Glittervein finished, he folded the note into a tiny square. After staggering to the back of the shop, he returned with a pigeon. Xemion watched as the Nain tied the note to the pigeon’s leg, opened a south-facing window, and released it into the night. He stood, watching it as it flew out over the sea. Having done this, a smile of what looked to be satisfaction crossed his face. He sat down, took another long quaff from his wineskin, and rubbed his hands together so rapidly he might have been trying to start a little fire in his palms.
    Just then Xemion heard a rustling sound behind him. Turning quickly, he saw through the thinning fog that he was surrounded by a ring of wide-open eyes, all low to the ground and at various heights, and all staring at him most intently. He didn’t have time to think. He reached into his cloak and drew out the practice sword and held it high. It was at its full luminosity now; its glow was so strong it illuminated his hand, his arm, and the grimacing war mask of his face. Emitting his fiercest cry, Xemion ran between two of the sets of eyes, slashing the greenish shine of the blade to and fro. Once he was past, he dashed on as fast as his legs would carry him down the peninsula. As he ran, he could clearly hear the enchanted cry that rose up and followed him: “He is master, he is Lord. Hail, hail the shining sword.”

7

    A Lack of Appropriate Clothing
    O ften during his ordeal of waiting and not knowing, Xemion doubted so strongly that it had been Saheli he’d seen up at the front of the Panthemium that it was almost as though she had been confirmed missing. Other