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on.”
    “I stabbed him with a rusty sword some of
the other orphans and I had hidden away. He died quickly. I was
taken to court and the judge gave me the option of entering the
Guard’s program or going to jail, where I most likely would have
died.” The severe look on his face let her know the gravity of the
matter. “I entered the program and loved it. Not only that, I did
well and was invited to advance into further training. I stayed
when I realized I could make a difference, even a small one.”
    “You’ve made a difference in my life,”
Sheela told him urgently, wanting to reassure him after he opened
his heart to her. “I didn’t know what it was like to have someone
protect me or tell me nice things.”
    “Sheela, I . . . I murdered a man. If you
want nothing to do with me, I wouldn’t blame you . . .” Frath said
as though trying to convince her that he wasn’t worth her time. It
was clear the incident had taken a deep toll on his spirit.
    Nerves threatened to tie her tongue into
knots. Here he was telling her about something that had affected
him greatly and he expected condemnation. She lifted a tender hand
to the side of his cheek. “I have no right to judge you. It sounds
to me as though you tried to help a friend, but I wasn’t there. I
know the man you are now , at least I know how you’ve treated
me.” She moved closer to him, requiring the feel of the arms he
wrapped around her in an unconscious gesture of need. “I believe
you’re a good man: compassionate, warm and you care for people.
Those are good qualities in my eyes.”
    He pulled her tighter and kissed her again
for an instant before remembering her previous reaction. Sheela
didn’t return the kiss but didn’t pull away, only looking at him
vulnerably. He kissed her forehead gently before offering his arm
again. She took it willingly and they walked in silence awhile.
    The old stately manors gave way to a mixture
of stone and wooden buildings that didn’t match at all. It was as
though different architects had a contest to see who could be the
most unique. None of it was anything like the poor farm where
Sheela had grown up.
    The people were just as varied as the
buildings. There was the occasional merchant, peasant, worker or
older person sitting on steps or talking to each out of upper level
windows. Other people bustled about and Sheela had no idea who they
might be or what business they might have. Frath waved a hand at
the eclectic mix. “This is the Mosh District. It was named after a
wizard who saved the city from a horde of ravenous defbats
centuries ago.”
    “That sounds terrible. One of those took our
cow a few years ago,” Sheela told him with a shudder. “I don’t
understand how they fly with wings like webs and such an oversized
head. The sickly brown color of their skin made me sick. I was
terrified when I saw it.”
    “I’ve never seen one myself. They don’t come
into the city. That one time was unusual,” Frath admitted. “Anyway,
a lot of odd people live in the Mosh District. Many of the
performers from Carnival have homes here and there’s always a party
somewhere.”
    “It sounds like a lot of fun.” Sheela
listened to the murmur of people talking and the occasional shouts
and laughter of children playing. There was so much noise in the
city as opposed to the oppressive silence of the countryside where
she grew up. At times, it had seemed like even the birds weren’t
thrilled about blessing the farm with their songs. Sheela didn’t
see the look of worry Frath gave her when her smile turned down at
the memories.
    She shook off the gloom and took a deep
breath. In the district where the Shining Shield Inn was, men and
ladies wore perfumes, the gutters were kept mostly clean, and
smells were mostly gentle. In the Mosh District, odors became
stronger, people wore twice as much perfume in place of taking
baths and the streets weren’t filthy, but they weren’t clean
either. Most of the people