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Daurek’s knee is beside mine. I move my chair back so I won’t brush against him.

He shifts his leg aside to give me more room.

Now there’s plenty of space and I wish I hadn’t moved.

I rest my elbow on the table and turn toward him. It brings me a little closer without having to drag the chair back.

“Did the writing ledge suit you?” he asks.

“Yes. I’ve discovered the difficulty was never the furniture.”

“Your sister?”

I nod.

“You don’t have to finish the letter tonight.”

“She’ll be waiting to hear that I arrived.” I press my fork through a roasted onion with more force than it needs. “I can tell her that much.”

He waits while I take a bite. The onion is sweet inside, with salt caught in its browned edges. I hadn’t expected to be hungry.

“What would you usually be doing now?” he asks.

“In Tesseny?”

“Yes.”

“Helping close the stall. Tovi counts the day’s takings twice. Asha keeps serving customers and dropping coins onto his piles.”

“Does that work?”

“It depends which one you ask.”

His mouth curves. It’s a small change, but I have a close view of it from this chair.

I take another bite before he can catch me looking.

“Afterward, we’d eat upstairs. There’s a woman across the street who practices the same three songs every evening. Tovi joins in when he’s had enough cider.”

“Can he sing?”

“Loudly.”

That earns me a little more of the smile.

I want the rest of it.

“What about you?” I ask. “Do you do anything in the evenings besides listen to people complain about bridges?”

“I work in the cultivation when there’s light enough. Young trees need more attention than the old ones.”

“And when it’s dark?”

“Someone usually finds another bridge.”

I laugh. He looks pleased with himself, and for a moment I can imagine a meal where neither of us has to think about how I came here.

Then Reivaka asks whether my room is warm enough, and I remember that I’m a guest waiting for a marriage to be undone.