Free Point of Hopes by Melissa Scott Page B

that note of commonality.
    To his surprise, it was Adriana who appeared with
the sheets and blankets, followed by a pair of waiters carrying a
battered storage chest. At her gesture, they set it down inside the
door, and headed back to their other jobs. Adriana nodded
cheerfully and began to make up the bed.
    “ You’re from Esling, then?” she
asked.
    Eslingen nodded, watching her work—the sheets were
mended, but looked impeccably clean, and the blankets were only
minimally patched—said, “I left some years ago, though.”
    “ Mother left Altheim when she was
sixteen.” Adriana loosened the curtains, slapped them smartly to
loosen what little dust had been allowed to gather, then stooped to
the chest, dragging it further into the room. Eslingen bent to help
her, and found himself looking down the front of her bodice, at the
cleavage between two nice breasts. He smiled realized she was aware
of his stare, and looked quickly away.
    “ Where do you want this?” Adriana
asked.
    “ Oh, under the window would be
fine,” Eslingen answered more or less at random, and together they
carried the heavy chest across the room.
    “ So you were with Coindarel’s
regiment,” Adriana went on, and lifted the chest’s lid to reveal a
squat chamber pot, an equally unpretentious kettle, and a washbasin
and jug. “One hears a great deal about Coindarel.”
    I wouldn’t be surprised Eslingen thought. He said “I
doubt all of it’s true.”
    “ Oh?” She smiled a not quite openly
mischievous expression that started a dimple in one dark cheek. She
seemed about to say something, but then changed her mind, her smile
still amused and secret. “I brought a candle-end for you, but after
that, you’ll buy your own.”
    “ Thanks.” Eslingen watched her out
of the corner of his eye, wondering just which of the many rumors
she had heard. Probably the one about Coindarel choosing his
officers for their looks, he thought, and didn’t know whether to be
regretful or relieved. She was pretty—more than pretty, really, and
Devynck’s daughter would have a substantial share in her mother’s
business, if not the whole of it, since he’d seen no other
sisters—but he would be wise to keep hands off until he knew her
intentions. Not that he would be so lucky as to attract an offer of
marriage—I think well of myself, he admitted, with an inward smile
of his own, and with reason, but there’s not a woman alive who’d
think I have enough to offer her to make that contract worth her
while. But there were other obligations, other degrees of interest
and desire, and until he knew more about her, it would be wise to
step warily. She was certainly of an age to be thinking about
children.
    Adriana’s smile widened briefly, as though she’d
guessed what he was thinking, but she said only, “That’s your
furniture, sergeant—and Mother does charge for damage. The
kitchen’s open from six o’clock to first sundown, you can eat any
time then. I’ve told the waiters not to charge you.”
    “ Thank you,” Eslingen said again,
and Adriana answered, “My pleasure, sergeant.”
    “ Certainly mine,” Eslingen replied
automatically, and wondered if he’d been entirely wise. Adriana
flashed him another quick grin, showing teeth this time, and let
herself out in a flurry of skirt and petticoat.
    Left to himself, Eslingen leaned out the window to
check the sundial that stood in the garden below. Past four, he
guessed, from the length of the shadows, but couldn’t see the dial
itself. He would want a timepiece of some sort, he thought,
frowning—one needed to keep rough track of the hours; even the
least observant did their best to avoid their unlucky times—and
then a tower clock sounded from the direction of the Street of
Knives, a strong double chime marking the half hour. There would be
no missing that sound; probably the real difficulty would be
learning to sleep through it every night. He allowed himself a
small sigh of relief, and