The windowed door to Toulast Jewelry swings open with little resistance, giving way to a large showroom; glass display cases—doubling as the sales counter—surround the small public area, flanking and trapping the customer between idyllic visions of wealth. The floor is white marble polished to a matte shine, reflecting the light from above.

  Stepping inside, Dyder is immediately bombarded with a strong scent of apple-cinnamon, though he cannot tell if the scent is from the store or from the clerk.

  Laex Toulast stands behind the counter with perfect posture, hands clasped together behind his back. His vest, a light brown wool with golden pinstriping, a cream cloth embroidered with golden oak leaves, is neatly folded and tucked into the pocket. It is tightly tailored above a flawlessly pressed dark red cotton shirt, and his pants are a beige corduroy.

  Laex looks at Dyder, inspecting him up and down inquisitively, wondering what this man was doing in a woman’s jewelry store. He winds his curled mustache between and around his fingers before moving his hand to his chin, holding it. “No man just walks into my store; I know _why_ you’re here.” His voice has a bright lisp to it. “Ugh, I just love this job. Who's the lucky lady?”

  “Ilsenyla Heren,” Dyder answers.

  Laex leans in, “Sister of Myna Heren? I love Myna; she’s such a sweetheart. She was here the other day; she didn’t buy anything, but I can’t say I was expecting her to; I’ve met most of the ladies-in-waiting—including that old bat—of Gekaryna vela’Herst—may Our Pale Lady Smile upon her.”

  Dyder begins to feel as if he might be here for a while. “Yes, she is.”

  “Such a lucky man, Ilsenyla Heren; look at you. You know, if I weren’t...” He pauses, once again looking the head guard up and down, biting his lower lip. “Oh, am I kidding?” He laughs, throwing his arms up beside him. He shifts his weight to his back foot and mimics drawing a sword. “I’d duel you for her either way. Now enough dilly-dallying; please tell me your name. I’m sure you’re much more excited than I am.”

  Dyder, slightly shocked by the antics of the energetic man behind the counter, tells him his name.

  Laex begins to walk around the inside of the counter. “Oh, yes, I take it back—she’s the lucky one; I’ve heard many good things about you from Gyrshke, and now that—that’s high praise; I’m sure you know her opinion on men—truly not a fan. I was at the College a few months back putting another silver loop in her linshkh—she’s got such a sweet coven with her; they’re all just lovely, such a sweet group of girls, I just love all of them—and she brought you up—which just baffled me, Gyrshke, bringing up—a man, and her voice wasn’t dripping with malice, just unheard of—now I’ll spare you the details; I’m sure old history like that isn’t what you want to be brought up when buying a linshkh—frankly, I’m shocked we haven’t met before.” He stops and pulls out a velvet wooden box labeled ‘Linshkh Pieces’ on the top. He pauses before opening it, drumming his fingers on the top. “So, how long have you two known each other?”

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  Dyder squints, trying to recall when he first met High Priestess Seliani, “About fifteen years, just—”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet, childhood sweethearts. How long have you been courting her? or was this arranged?”

  “I thought we were talking about High Priestess Seliani, not Ilsenyla?”

  “No, silly, we are talking about your bride-to-be; I get you’re excited and your head is in the clouds, but you need to follow along.” Laex snaps his fingers in front of Dyder.

  Dyder rubs his eyes, getting a throaty chuckle from Laex. “I’ve known her for seven years, and I’ve been courting her for five, but it was really sanctioned by our parents.”

  Laex opens the top of the box; the inside is filled with small golden pieces, each labeled on the lid. “Gold?”

  “What? oh, yes.”

  Laex removes 25 small gold loops, a helix bar, and a nose ring. “You're the same age as Gyrshke, correct?”

  “No, I’m a year older—twenty-eight—and Ilsenyla is a year younger than the High Priestess.”

  "Hmmm, about a decade younger than me. Such a late age to get married around here—well, here as in Ianya—I know a guy—not as well as I would like to." He leers and raises his eyebrows. "Who’s just a bit older than you with six kids—well, technically eight, but we _do not_ talk about that. He says it’s for help on the family land, but I’ve seen his wife."

  "Please explain to me how you and High Priestess Seliani get along." Dyder places his hands on his hips.

  “Do not get what I am saying twisted. She would agree with me.” Laex snorts as he begins assembling the linshkh.

  “How much do you usually charge for a linshkh?” Dyder asks, hoping to move the conversation to a place where he can contribute and not have to discuss the High Priestess.

  “Not nearly as much as I should; I usually just charge the cost of the materials and the labor. Now if I were to say ‘Come back in two weeks’—” Laex waves with a sophistic bubbly tone, “and make it look like I’m working all hard and sorts with my little loupe in—I could charge triple what I do, but I’m an honest man; that’s why the ladies love me.” He gently places the linshkh in a small velvet case and slides it across the counter. “One full-gold piece, please.”

  “That’s it?” Dyder had expected it to be far more.

  “I told you I charge an honest price.” Leax runs his fingers through his hair.

  “Do you manage to ever turn a profit?”

  “Do you really think I care? the gossip is more than enough for me.” Laex says with a smile as Dyder drops the coin into his hand. “Sometimes noblewomen will bring me food just so they can come in and complain about their husbands—they don’t bring the food out of kindness or anything; I request that they bring the food; these ears are not free.”

  Dyder bids Laex farewell, leaving the store. He returns to the streets of the Crown Isle while packed; they do not come close to the oppressive atmosphere created by Laex’s ability to hold a conversation with himself. He pauses on the brick sidewalk, looking at the velvet case in his hand.

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