Passing through the egress of Sir Kevan's Park, Cindy found neither fellow nor stock nor romance there to greet her. Evidently, Smith had not yet finished with his business so only the bitter breeze of Candle Day's Eve came to embrace her as she stepped off the grass and onto the stone pavement. It never snowed in Tolemac. Not even on the night before Candle-Day- coldest of nights. Even so, this was a particularly cold night. Snow or no, a shiver raced up and down Cindy's figure. Her dress, although beautiful, was not enough to keep out the winter wind. And even through the soles of her shoes, she could feel the chill of the stone with every step.

Well... that's that.

We did what we came to do. And we did it well.

Nothing to be ashamed of.

Nothing at all.

As she thought these things, she began to weep and then feel silly for weeping. Then, she laughed a little and felt relieved at Smith's eye-colouring and mask (which covered her mouth instead of her eyes) making it much less of a mess for her to cry. It was, after all, very inconvenient to cry with the lenses of a mask covering one's eyes. When she was not twenty paces from the gates of Sir Kevan's Park, she heard a voice calling out to her.

Madame Smith!

She recognised the voice at once. And since she recognised the voice, she had no intention of stopping and every intention of simply moving on and ignoring the speaker and hoping that he would stop bothering her. For a girl who couldn't talk, there was nothing more aggravating than a nonsensical chatterbox.

Madame Smith!

The voice was eager at first but it had since become desperate and littered with pantings. The speaker was jogging after her. However, even when he came to her side, and caught her view, she refused to look him eye-to-eye and simply kept on walking, leaving him stunned and upset as she rebuilt the distance between them. Then the voice, reaching out from the very spot where she had left its source, took on a shameful tone.

I'm sorry!

And so she stopped. But she didn't turn around. She simply stood still in her tracks, with her arms crossed and her eyes on the pavement.

You were listening... weren't you? By the tree. I'm sorry about what I said. Not because it was nasty. I take pride in the nasty things I say as long as they are true; or at least honest. But I wasn't honest then. I didn't mean a word of what I said. I only said it to shut my daft brother up. Understand that if no one ever helped him along, he'd never know when to shut up.

You have so much in common! He must be your brother!

Isn't that the truth!

And since you're the elder brother, you must be the bad influence, no? The source of the pandemic?

I dare not take so much credit. But if I am the rotten tutor, then my little brother is the worthless student. He has, after all, none of my passion for honesty.

And then she turned around. Looking over her shoulder, she stared deeply at the boy with her false-blue eyes and she found herself at once ecstatic and horrified. Before then, she didn't think it was possible to be, in the same moment, filled to the brim with equal measures of happiness and disgust. But ever after she would describe her feelings at that point of the night with those very words. As for the Guardian's feelings, he was embarrassed at first, but after a good minute of her silent staring, he was only very confused.

Yes?

Hi.

Oh right. Hullo! I suppose I did forget to say just that. Sorry again.

Her mask was on- covering her nose and mouth. She didn't even wave. And yet he understood her. And he had even understood all her prior replies to him even though, for all her words beforehand, she had not even been looking his way.

There was no mistaking it then. He was the first person she had met, since the day she came by stork, who seemed capable of hearing her voice. And the most unnerving part was that she still couldn't even hear it herself. As she spoke, she could only hear the rustling of her lips against her mask and the breath moving in and out. But no voice.

She turned round fully to begin studying him. His eyes were amethyst and nested in a silver'd, lensless domino mask. His locks- the parts of them protruding from his scarf -were as shadow-black silk curling down his snow-white neck. Very little of him came from his father. But what he gained from his mother- including the aforementioned -had been adapted flawlessly in concert with his Overseer luminosity and the shadow-black cloak round his shoulders. All these together had the effect of making him look quite like a Fate-ish boy from a fairy tale- an imaginary fellow she may have made once upon a dream. But none of the above answered the most pressing question in Cindy's mind and so, for closer study, she began to approach the boy, slowly and steadily, and with very small steps.

You... you're...

Guardian! You can call me Guardian.

No- Not that. You're.... You're... Hullo!

Hi. Are you... perchance... planning on walking home?

Yes I... I suppose I am.

Would you like me to accompany you? It's late out and methinks it would not be safe for you to wander alone. Especially tonight, with all the street lamps unlit.

I...

It was, perhaps, a perverse irony that upon discovering such a person who could actually hear her speak, she became so shocked as to be rendered speechless. A whole metropolitan population of thoughts zoomed in and out and around her mind so much so that she felt a sort of choking sensation in that path between thought and word. The result of it was that she simply went on walking without another word and he took it to mean that she had no objection to his accompanying her. And so they walked on for a while- with him being a few paces behind her at any given moment.

For about a quarter of an hour, every time he caught up to her, she'd go a little faster- enough to keep him out of sight but not so far as to lose him completely. And, indeed, every minute of that time was spent in silent consideration of something to say. By that conflict between her desire to have nothing to do with him and her longing to be heard, she felt herself going mad. Then he finally spoke, filling the silence with a phrase that reeked with desperation.

Tis a lovely night, no?

But it served its purpose. Having spent her life with social-climbers, she knew well the art of small-talk and so when she heard such a ridiculous question, she could not help but laugh at the failure. And, having laughed, the subsequent comments came easier to her.

You can't be serious.

You are free to suggest another subject.

To what end would we talk on that subject, Master of Nasty Things? You'd just call the sky fat anyways. The sun would be arrogant, the grass would be poorly shaven and the evening wind would be very loud, sweaty and stinky.

Har-har...

And would it be a different case for any other subject?

Perhaps... Wouldn't kill us to give it a try though.

It may very well kill me.

You give me too much "credit". But I don't think my accompanying you in constant silence would be any easier on either of us.

Guardian had already been made a little uhappy by her implied accusation. However, since she had given her replies in playful tones, and since he had something to ask her, he made a real attempt at not seeming offended. Cindy had quite a similar thought process towards Guardians statements and their having been given in timid tones.

I suppose not. Well how's this for a topic: Why are you following me?

I have said: I don't think it's safe for you to wander alone.

Tis a little unsettling: The thought of strangers coming to bother me. How would I cope?

A bother, am I?

Come to think of it, I would have to relish in misery to accept your company.

And he noticed that she was only half-joking and so he began to be half-concerned. Her smile had faded a little and so did the ease of their conversing. As the tension became rebuilt, Cindy remembered one of her most pressing points- the prig-ishess of the Guardian -and afterwards found herself unable to ignore it.

Surely not...

What makes you miserable, I wonder?

A great many things, Madame.

A great many people too, from what I've seen.

Quite a number, most likely.

All of Tolemac, from what I've seen. Very reasonable.

In my defence, you saw their conduct tonight. And surely you've known them all the year. Even at their least irksome, they're the sort of people who think it is a mighty good observation to say, "This water is powerfully wet" or "this wine is very grapey" or "tonight is a very dark night."

Hmm... Lovely night, wouldn't you say?

Har har. Fair enough. I am a hypocrite

Unfortunately for my fellow contestants.

Unfortunate for them? What about me? They had a two-minute performance and a subsequent nap. I had to listen to foul play after foul play.

We in the audience listened too. Not just to their foul playing, but to your foul mouth which you aimed, not only at the contestants, but at everyone who had the misfortune of meeting you.

By her posture and tone, there was still some argument to be made that Cindy was only teasing. Yet the Guardian was not convinced by that interpretation. The things she had been saying had been feeling more and more like a sincere attack on his character. And so he became fed up with lagging behind and caught up and then went on until he was in the lead. When he had put some modest distance between, he began walking backwards so as to face the girl's false blue eyes. In that position, he gave his reply, saying...

I owe those pigs nothing.

And those are the words of a hero?

There is a difference between being good and being nice.

Is there?

I would readily die for any one of those pompous... citizens. That does not mean I have to be polite to them.

And if they were falling from a building, would you save them with a noose?

I- (a laugh) Wow... what an image. Are you sure you don't have a twisted side?

With a roll of her eyes, Cindy quickened her pace, and her quicker pace, in concert with his more relaxed backwards-walking, soon placed her in the lead and- the Guardian in her dust. She even bumped into him as she passed, beginning his about face and return to forward-walking. Walking backwards herself, to look him in his true-amethyst eyes, she ignored his reply and continued with her point.

And what about the wig?

There it is.

If you didn't want me to hear you, you might've talked softer and gone away sooner.

By the pinky... It is the culture! Regardless of the facts, the culture now plagues you all like a tyrant- pointless but sovereign. Over a hundred years of masks and wigs and gloves and shoes and coats and all of you have started to act as though to be seen without any of these would be as humiliating as being seen without shirts or skirts or trousers. It was not so once upon a time.

Once upon a time, it was not so humiliating to be seen without undergarms either. That was when we were apes- beasts and not men.

That's different.

Yes it is. Beasts did not have to fear being turned to stone if they didn't wear undergarments.

I'm not having this debate with you. And why do you even care?

Why did you have to be so mean to your brother?

He's my brother. We're mean to each other.

Well it's all well good to be "mean" but not that kind of mean. I mean...

Do you know what you mean?

Yes I know what I mean and so do you. You were actually angry. Your mother and brother clearly just want to protect you. They clearly don't want you to be silent forever and yet, for some reason, that I cannot, for the life of me, understand, you're punishing them for that.

I'm punishing them for being silly. Surely a parent with her child in the desert would be very silly to fear his drowning or freezing.

You treat Medusa so carelessly.

Two victims. Two victims in all Nine Realms in as many decades.

I see... so we have my mother and another. Who was the other, I wonder? Do you think she was a mother? Do you think she had children? If she did, do you think they would ever forget Medusa?

I'm sorry. I didn't know.

Isn't it funny how people who talk too much often know too little?

So I am a bother then. Fair enough. Absolutely fair enough. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time. I'll be leaving you alone now.

No!

On instinct, she grabbed his arm just as he began turning away- she had gotten close enough to him to put him within her reach. During the pause that followed, her grip became tighter and tighter with every passing moment of quiet.

Just walk away.

Just let him go.

What hope is there in her company?

What hope is there in his company?

How I'd love to hear the song again!

How I'd love to go on being heard!

But...

But...

"What can I do with such a difficult person?"

Then he noticed it.

You're freezing.

What? Oh, well sort of but-

At once he removed his shadow-black cloak and wrapped it around her. It was a strange sensation. All at once, the cold left her. It was like stepping into a steam bath to escape a snowy northern night. It was only slightly too big for her but its size really didn't matter at all. She only stood there, looking rather silly, delighting in the feel of having summer itself cuddling her.

Comfy isn't it?

Very. What is it?

Wyvern wool.

Is that rare?

It's non-existent in your Realm. Good sport in Girandun though!

Killing wyverns?

Hunting wyverns. Or, wyvern corpses more like. Wyverns from that Realm are a very proud race. They don't like to be seen in weakness. So, when old age begins to catch up, they fly off to the wilderness and die all alone. However, their bodies don't actually decay. So, every few years, the Hero-Queens and Hero-Kings would lead expeditions to find the bodies. Then, from the scales, they would make armour. And from the wool... cloaks.

I see... Have you been wyvern hunting?

Once.

How was it?

I was a proper child. The creature wasn't properly dead. I hid behind a rock and wet meself.

Then she laughed. And he laughed with her. And she understood a little more of what he meant by preferring honesty to niceties. Still, she was not fully satisfied in his being justified for all his behaviour prior.

May I ask one more question about your conduct? Afterwards, we can find a new topic.

You don't need my permission.

All the same, I'd like to have it.

You do.

Why did you come out tonight if you were so opposed to it in principle?

In truth, I was practically dragged out kicking and screaming.

You say that like you had no choice at all.

Because I didn't. If I had not come, my parents would have been livid.

Still, you had a choice. Either anger your parents or attend the party. It may not have been a nice choice but it was a choice. What's more, by carrying such meanness, you've managed to gain the worst of both outcomes. Your parents have become livid and you've had to sit through the party.

It's more complicated than that.

I don't know you. I don't know your life. But it looks to me that you have only made things worse for yourself. Maybe, if you didn't decide from that start that the party was going to be a pain, you would have enjoyed yourself. The nonsense singers certainly did.

I... yes... fine... I suppose they did enjoy themselves. And I did enjoy them- these nonsense singers you speak of. And I suppose... you're right.

What?

You're right.

Yes... Yes I am!Thank you!

For what?