Darin watched nervously from the corner of the room as Master Zhifar welcomed his family home. Darin had come to Zhifar two weeks ago, and the Master had explained then: all the family except himself was on a journey to visit other relatives in Alanis' sister-city across the desert. He had named their names for Darin, described them all... But Darin had been unable to imagine the room filled with so many, and their sudden appearance had caused him to retreat to the corner in confusion, uncertainty sticking his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

He felt a tug on his tunic, and looked down. A pair of bright black eyes stared up at Darin with curiosity. "Are you sick?" the child asked.

Darin smiled, charmed out of his shyness by her forthright curiosity. "No," he said, crouching down to look at her more levelly.

The child frowned. "It grows like that?" She reached out and tentatively patted Darin's hair, fine and soft and brown.

Darin grinned. "It grows like that." He glanced up at Master Zhifar, still engaged in greeting his wives and husbands and children - a tangle of embracing and kissing. The Alani were physical people, Darin thought. Surely no one would mind if... He reached out and returned the child's innocent caress, stroking her thick black hair.

She grinned at the touch, as if reassured, and threw her arms around Darin's neck, latching on as if for dear life. Darin, whose experience with children had been severely limited since his own childhood, looked almost desperately back at Master Zhifar.

Zhifar was engaged in lively discussion with a young man whose long nose matched his own. A short, wiry woman saw, however, and detached herself from the group. "Missa, come away," she called, laughter in her voice. "You're upsetting the honored guest."

The girl - Missa? - shook her head and hid her face against Darin's neck. He looked up at the woman. She did not seem upset, only amused. His heart skipped a beat - Yes, this, I belong here, thank you gods and blessings on the Chained - and he stood, lifting the child and holding her only somewhat awkwardly. "It's all right," he said quietly, smiling at the woman. "If you don't mind."

Zhifar finally looked around. "Ah! I forget. My apologies - my loves, this is Apprentice Darin, come to us from Karandistahn by way of the Chained Antonov."

Questions and exclamations exploded, and Zhifar laughed. "Yes, the Chained is back - he spent a year in Karandistahn and has come home to cleanse himself of the taint." Zhifar spat once to indicate his opinion of the Karand. "About two weeks ago," he replied to another excited question. "The Chained saw him there and felt he had some talent that was languishing, and brought him out of Karandistahn, to me, for training."

One husband frowned slightly. "Horses?" he asked. Darin heard the unspoken question - Or thievery? - without even looking at him.

Zhifar smiled enigmatically. "Horses, and whatever else I care to teach him." The husband looked over at Darin appraisingly. He was beginning to feel nervous when the child in his arms squirmed around to look at her family. "He's not sick!" she announced loudly. A ripple of laughter washed through the room, dissolving the tension. Even Darin managed a smile.

Zhifar took four long strides across the room and gently pried his daughter from around Darin's neck. He put one hand on Darin's shoulder, and Darin met his eyes with less effort than it had taken two weeks earlier. "You need not stay," Zhifar whispered, "if they are too many. I did not know they would return this early."

Darin looked past Zhifar at his peculiar family - a large group, even for Alanis: four husbands (including Zhifar) and three wives, a dozen children of varying ages, pets and babies underfoot... He wanted to be part of it. Everything about Alanis pulled at his heart, whispering to him of home... Even if his pale skin and fair hair made it obvious he'd never been here before.

He looked back at Zhifar and took a deep breath, forcing himself to remember once again that apprentice was not slave and that Zhifar's title of Master was an indication of skill, given out of respect rather than required obedience. His voice that shook only a little. "I'd like to stay, if you don't mind."

Zhifar smiled encouragingly and squeezed Darin's shoulder. "It's up to you, Apprentice," he said. "If it gets to be too much, just excuse yourself." Darin nodded, a slight smile hovering around his lips as he watched Zhifar returning to his family.

He remained on the outskirts of the reunion for most of the evening, their love - obvious in the open Alani way - warming him even if it did not include him. Missa, obviously enamoured, returned a short while later to introduce him to her doll and then fall asleep in his lap. He felt a quiver of affection, and began instinctively to quash it...

And stopped himself. The Alani were an open, friendly, caring people. Their ways called to him. Why shouldn't he allow himself to care about this sweet child nestled against his arm? Zhifar's lessons in the last weeks had been demanding, but the man had never shown so much as a spark of cruelty.

The Chained Antonov had warned him of this, on their brief journey. "You have a caring heart, Darin." They had been on a mountain path, getting their first glimpse of the desert. "But you keep it shielded. Alanis may be difficult for you, until you can learn to drop that guard. But it's worth it."

Darin looked down at the black-haired, bronze-skinned child in his lap and gave her an impulsive hug. He looked up quickly, but no one else seemed to mind, or even to have noticed. Missa herself only smiled sleepily and snuggled closer. When one of Zhifar's wives came to take her to bed an hour later, he turned her over with something like reluctance, and managed to return the woman's smile without too much hesitation.

Kevil strolled down the street, greeting friends and acquaintances, stopping occasionally to chat or flirt. He turned down a side-street, stopped at a well for a quick drink, and continued on his errand toward the edge of town.

"Master Zhifar!" he called, approaching the fence and waving. The tall man was in the middle of a half-dozen horses, talking to someone Kevil couldn't see. He glanced up and waved, then turned back. Kevil pulled himself up onto the fence, curious.

He caught a glimpse of fair brown hair, and a pale hand resting on a horse's neck. An outlander? Kevil frowned. What kind of outlander would Zhifar allow into his paddocks?

He waited impatiently, humming softly, until Zhifar headed in his direction, the outlander following. Kevil jumped down and executed a perfectly-timed bow as Zhifar approached. "Master Zhifar, the Lady smiles."

Zhifar eyed him with amusement. "What do you want, Journeyman?"

"My mother sends: another two horses were lost to the Ven'hedi last week, and they must be replaced."

Zhifar scowled. "They're not coins to be spent so loosely."

"You would rather the Ven'hedi overran us, I presume."

"At least the Ven'hedi know how to treat their horses!"

Kevil barely restrained a grin, well-used to this dance. "Master, she begs: Only your horses are fine enough to grace her rangers."

Zhifar sniffed. "Let me get the books; she'll want to know what her choices are." He glanced at the outlander with a hint of concern, then shrugged. "Journeyman, this is my apprentice, Darin. Apprentice, journeyman bard Kevil Talarin." He nodded shortly, and turned to walk back to his home.

Kevil stared at the outlander, agape. An apprentice? Zhifar had taken an outlander as his apprentice? He eyed the unlikely candidate with growing curiosity.

The boy before him was short, with fine brown hair and muddy green eyes. His skin was pale, touched at the extremeties with sunburn. A faint hint of beard on his cheeks made Kevil revise his initial estimate of Darin's age - he probably was only a year or so younger than Kevil himself.

The apprentice was staring at him shyly, an almost-smile hovering on his lips. Kevil grinned, and offered a bow. "I am pleased to meet you, Apprentice Darin."

Darin bowed in return, surprisingly well for an outlander. "I give you greeting, Journeyman Talarin." His accent was thick with Karand, and Kevil's curiosity peaked sharply.

"You are from Karandistahn?" he asked. Zhifar hated the Karand.

Darin colored a little and nodded. "I grew up there, yes."

Too late, Kevil saw the faint scars on Darin's neck, realized the skin there was paler even than the skin on Darin's cheeks and hands. He flushed with embarrassment. "Forgive me," he said quickly, bowing again, "I do not mean to pry into that which is painful."

Much to Kevil's relief, Darin was grinning when he straightened to look at him. "You're fast," Darin said softly. "I don't think any of Master Zhifar's family have noticed yet. They're still befuddled with my coloring."

Kevil shook his head, dazed with questions he did not dare ask. "It is a bard's training to observe the details," he explained absently, forcing his eyes to meet Darin's without lingering on those tell-tale scars, so obvious now that he had spotted them.

Darin grinned even wider. "And to be cursed with curiosity?" he asked slyly.

Kevil grinned back. "That, too."

Darin climbed up to sit on the fence, and looked out at the horses. "The Chained Antonov brought me out," he said, answering Kevil's barely unspoken questions. "He asked Master Zhifar to take me as an apprentice." Darin looked at Kevil, the green eyes intent, the lips curving in a smile. "I seem to have passed the Master's tests. I am still here."

Kevil laughed, and reached out without thinking to lay his hand on Darin's arm. Darin's flinch was miniscule, but Kevil froze, belatedly remembering that most outlanders were uneasy with much physical contact and realizing that Darin probably had cause more than most to fear it... He dropped his hand again, smiling apologetically.

Darin looked at Kevil's hand, and then his gaze slid slowly up to rest on his face. He hesitated, then slowly reached out to put his own hand on Kevil's shoulder. "I like Alanis," he said softly. "I like her people, and I like her ways, even if... I am still learning."

Kevil found himself suddenly impressed with this soft-spoken young man. To have come from Karandistahn, even slavery, to leave behind everything he had ever known and accept the challenge of a new culture, a new people... A new life - to face the challenge headlong, embracing it not only with gratitude but enthusiasm... Kevil's breath was taken away with Darin's bravery.

He clapped Darin on the arm with a grin that Darin matched easily. "Come and dine with my family tonight," he offered. He looked past Darin to where Master Zhifar was returning with his book of charts. "If the Master can spare you, of course."

Darin watched Kevil leave, his heart pounding with excitement. Master Zhifar's reaction to Kevil's invitation had been a careless shrug, and Darin had accepted shyly, almost painfully aware of the reaction the young bard elicited in him.

Zhifar was smiling at him now. "Good," he said. "A friend or two will help you adapt."

Darin flushed. "You left us on purpose."

Zhifar nodded. "Time you started learning how to interact with your peers, and not just your teachers. And you could do much worse for a beginning than Journeyman Talarin. He speaks before he thinks, but the Lady lives in his heart. The boy could befriend a rock lizard, if he bent his will to it."

Zhifar glanced up at the house, then squeezed Darin's shoulder. "Here comes Misala," he observed. "Enough horses for today. Now that she's back, you'll learn to use that pretty knife the Chained gifted you with."

Darin looked where Zhifar indicated. Misala was Missa's blood-mother - the short, wiry woman who'd been the first to notice him the previous night. She moved with the grace of a dancer, and her black eyes were disturbingly clear and direct.

She led him past the house and into the courtyard. The smell of roses was almost overwhelming, but a border of palm trees kept the area somewhat shaded. Misala smiled at him. "Let's see your weapon, Apprentice," she said softly.

Darin carefully pulled the knife from his belt, hesitating a moment before turning it over to her. She looked at him for a long moment, half-smiling, before turning her attention to the knife. "A good start," she told him, returning the knife. She pointed to a patch of shady ground. "Sit."

She watched him critically as he lowered himself to the ground, then crouched to look at him seriously. "You have history with the knife, yes?" She held up a hand. "Don't tell me. You will learn to think of your knife as your lover, and that means keeping the secrets that are between you, you understand?"

Darin looked down at the knife and thought briefly how it had felt, grazing the flesh of his throat as it cut through the collar... He looked back up at Misala and nodded. "I understand."

She smiled. "Good. Now: Hold the knife in your stronger hand. No, not like that - I'm going to teach you to fight, not to cut vegetables." She showed him how to place his fingers, then drew four circles in the dirt before him. "First exercise," she said, smiling as she pulled her own knife from her belt. Though the exercise was simple and he remained seated the entire time, half an hour's practice left him flushed and sweating, his arm aching with the unaccustomed motions.

At the end of the lesson, she smiled. "Good. You learn quickly. You have time to wash up before dinner."

Darin started, glancing at the shadows. "I'm to have dinner with Journeyman Talarin," he said hesitantly.

"Then you'd best hurry." Darin nodded and stood. "Apprentice." He paused and looked back at her.

She was watching him with a slight smile. "You should be warned - I've never heard of the Journeyman taking a man for a lover. Don't expect too much."

Darin flushed. "I don't-"

She shook her head at him. "Don't dissemble, Apprentice. The look on your face was plain enough." She eyed him for a moment, then put a hand on his shoulder. "The Lady smiles on all love, Apprentice. But I thought you should be warned - if you look to him for a lover, you're likely to be disappointed. It's nothing to do with right or wrong. Simple preference, you understand?"

Her grip on his shoulder didn't loosen until he nodded, but he was still blushing as he headed for the bathing room.

Kevil stood, laughing at his sisters' relentless teasing. "Come on," he said to Darin, "let's get away from these sand-spiders!" He grabbed Darin's arm and pulled him toward the back of the house, blithely ignoring his sisters' laughing shrieks of protest.

He fell against the door of his room as if holding back a raging mob, grinning as Darin laughed. "I think they like you," he said.

Darin grinned back, suddenly shy. "I like them," he said softly. "Especially the little one - Aylie?"

"Aylin," Kevil corrected. "She's going to be a real heartbreaker when she gets her growth, isn't she?" He folded himself into his favorite chair, carelessly draping his legs over the arm.

Darin looked around, and for lack of other choices, sat tentatively on the edge of Kevil's bed. "You'll have to beat her suitors off with a stick," he agreed. Sometime around the dessert course, Kevil's circle-mother Dehlia had decided to adopt Darin, and had dropped the "Apprentice" from his name.

Darin had nearly dropped his fork in surprise, but the flush on his face had been almost desperately pleased. Shyly, he'd addressed her as his own circle-mother, and that quickly he was part of the family, sharing in the teasing and games.

The longer Kevil spent with Darin, the closer he felt to the quiet outlander. Darin was swiftly becoming the brother Kevil had never had.