A Warrior of Dreams Read Free

not ignorant; she knew what happened between men and women, what to do and what preparations to make. And Dyaros was handsome; he could make her laugh when he chose to and he even bathed now and again. Sometimes, when she was alone with herself just short of sleep, she thought she wanted him, too. The feeling never lasted for long. Mers had called it right enough — she had to decide and she couldn't, and she didn't know why. Joslyn turned a corner in a long hallway.
    "The early bird returns."
    Dyaros was there, leaning against the wall near the door to their quarters, partially blocking it. The gesture wasn't lost on Joslyn. The others were there, sitting on the floor or standing idly while they waited: sullen Merasys, Joar the picklock, two sisters and three brothers whose names Joslyn could never keep straight. A ragged pack of young foxes awaiting the call of their leader, and that was Dyaros and no mistake. He was the one who drew attention, with his ill - matched clothes stolen at different times from different people with different tastes. His gauntlets and boots were all of studded black leather, and the only parts of his costume that matched. Everything else was an erratic popinjay display of clashing — if muted — colors. Mers wasn't quite right about the 'bare - faced boy' part; Dyaros was nearly twenty and had a mustache of sorts — very thin and looking thinner because it was the same fair straw - wheat color as his hair. "We were waiting for you to join us," he said.
    "You know I work the sunlight," Joslyn returned.
    "I know you have several ideas unbecoming a proper thief. Night is for work, and day is for sleep."
    "Well then... I suppose you want me to give this back?" She reached under her belt, drew out a small blue velvet pouch that clinked suggestively. She spilled the contents into her palm with a small flourish. Style, as Mers had said over and over like a parrot with a new word. Style! As much how you do a thing as what you do. It wasn't something Joslyn had the hang of yet, but this time that didn't matter — there were a couple of gasps and one low whistle at the sight of four gold Imperials gleaming on her palm.
    Dyaros smiled his usual arrogant smile, only this time it didn't quite come off. "It's dangerous, Joslyn. People see too clearly in the sunshine."
    Joslyn knew the truth of that. This one cut purse was the real reason that young Watcher had chased her with such determination — no one had seen her take the pears. "That's why people get careless," Joslyn said, "and what worthy thing carries no risk?"
    Dyaros wasn't smiling now. "Wait for me on the roof," he said. He was looking at Joslyn, but the others left, filling out slowly. Merasys was the last to go; Joslyn saw the look she gave Dyaros before she followed the others up the stairs. It made Joslyn feel a little ill.
    "Joslyn, I don't understand you. Why are you avoiding me?" Dyaros asked when they were alone.
    "I hunt the day because I prefer it. It has nothing to do with you." That wasn't exactly true, but there was more to it than Dyaros. Something she couldn't make him understand. She didn't quite understand it herself.
    Dyaros smiled again. "The saddest part of all. I would like very much for it to have something to do with me."
    "Merasys is a pretty and willing girl. Isn't she enough for you?"
    He laughed. "No more than I am for her — we're thieves, Joslyn. We take what pleasure we can for as long as we can before we're maimed or hanged. That's all it means to either of us. Simple."
    Joslyn shook her head. "I think you believe that," she said. "But I've known only one place where it really was simple--a brothel I visited one lean day when I thought nothing was worse than being hungry. I was wrong. But all the men and all the women did know exactly what being there meant. And no one looked at anyone the way Merasys looks at you."
    Dyaros put on his best smile, but his eyes had gone cold. "I'll say this for you, girl - - you do