sailing_

the bottom of the gutter. His mother was . . . a prostitute. He’s a thief. He should know as much about chivalry as I do about . . . sailing. But . . . the core sections show him as he sees himself. He’s a small, small knight in this big suit of armor, on a white horse, fighting evil and dragons and rescuing damsels. And he wants to be big enough to fill that suit of armor.”
She sniffed. “So, he says that commoners like him and my kind don’t mix. But he’ll take me to my father and then disappear. He just doesn’t under­stand!”
“But I do, Shael. And I promise you . . . he said no, but he’s been kicking himself every night.”
“Are you sure . . . I mean, why?”
“Because he’s a normal man, if a young one, and they’re even randier and less logical at that stage. Also,” she said wryly, “he’s stopped following me about with his eyes. It’s not often that I lose them like that.”
She