“There’s a celebration in your honour,” a voice said. “I’m not sure what surprised me more – that you left it, or that fewer people noticed.”

Mulin looked up; Kralin stirred beside him as he did the same. The one who’d found their quiet getaway was somewhat familiar – a Nightkin female, around twenty, who’d been in their classes on spell-forms, what felt like a lifetime ago. Mulin struggled a few seconds for a name – not because she was unmemorable; she was lithe and graceful, black hide healthy and glossy, shown to advantage by bits of silver jewellery. There was just so much buzzing through his head that it took him uncomfortably long to produce, “Oh, good evening, Srevva. I hope you’ve been well?”

“Well enough, no thanks to your little escapade a week back,” she said dryly. Leaning on the wall, she poked his ankle with her tail-spade. “I was working on a channel rod when that huge storm swept over. Shattered it; one of the shards bounced off my eyepiece. And to think I used to find those goggles a nuisance…”

Kralin winced. “We didn’t want to wait; there wasn’t time to send a warning – ”

“Oh, stop,” Srevva laughed, her tail hooking past Mulin’s leg to poke Kralin’s in turn. “Nobody with half an ounce of sense actually puts any blame for the whole mess on you.” She shook her head; more seriously, she added, “Not for the storm, not for Liri, and not for any of the others you had to go through.

Mulin looked up. Many had tried to comfort them about Liri’s death, saying that they’d done amazingly well to only lose one person; she was the first since their morning return to mention the other cost. Strangely, the very fact that she acknowledged that someone other than Liri had died made it easier to ask, “Did you know her well?”

“Not as well as I wish, now,” she sighed, sinking down to the floor on the other side of the hall from them. “I had a class with her once, but otherwise mostly met her in passing. She was a fine person – always willing to see the best in someone.” She glanced over the twins. “She certainly had good taste in friends. Lovers, too, what little I knew of that. She could likely have had her pick, but whenever it did come to my attention that… well, they were good people, all of them.” Now she ducked her head. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t gossip so. But you probably knew her better by far than I did.”

It was an odd sort of flattery, to be one among that number; nevertheless, it was not displeasing.

When the silence had stretched out for an uncomfortable time, Srevva was again the one to break it: “I’ve heard that your parents have another egg on the hearth – do you know when it’s due to crack shell?”

“Not for some time yet,” Kralin chuckled; the reminder had made him, like Mulin, perk up a little. “It was only just laid when we left, and we were only gone three weeks or so. Even if it should be more twins – an amazingly unlikely happening – there should be two months yet.”

“Wouldn’t that be an amazing thing, though?” Mulin laughed, pondering that image. “People would start thinking one or both of them was something special, if they should have two pairs of twins in a row! At least, twin or single, they should have an easier time of parenthood. Twice over – the new issue shouldn’t have as many expectations, and they’ve another to stand as father.” Mother and Father had been rather anxious, telling them about Tarvi’s new status, in their hearts if not the records – but Mulin had never found the big Frostkin disagreeable, and he was even less so in the course of that conversation; he and Kralin were too old now to start thinking of the man as a second father, but he seemed like he’d make for a good uncle.

“Oh, that, yes.” Srevva laughed. “Mother was quite taken with envy when she heard that bit of news – said she’d have wished for a second father, or maybe a third, during my more excitable years.”

“People didn’t mind hearing about the arrangement, then?” Kralen prompted, head cocked in what pretended to be idle curiosity.

“Except for those who were hoping Tarvi was eligible for themselves, no,” she laughed. “And I must admit I can’t fault them for that. If I were some years older… well. As it is…” She shook her head; slightly more serious, she went on, “I should enjoy life if I am half so lucky as they.”

Mulin gave a squeeze to Kralin’s shoulder. “Well, now they’ve taken that step, others will follow,” he said. “We, for instance, would quite enjoy an arrangement where we don’t have to be far apart.”

Her gaze focused on them again for a moment; she started, tail curling. “Oh, forgive me, you must think I was angling for…”

“If you were,” Kralin breathed – softly, but she still fell silent at his words – “would it be so wrong?” He patted Mulin’s shoulder in turn. “We’re still people, still young, even; we like to be thought attractive as much as any.” He looked over to Mulin directly, an eager query in his eyes.

Which he took to mean they were in agreement; excellent. After flashing him a smile, Mulin added to his words, “And you’re a quite splendid person to be possibly venturing that opinion.”

“Oh!” She ducked her head, though the tip of her tail remained tightly-curled. “I will confess being rather curious, but we don’t know each other so very well yet.”

“Not yet,” Mulin agreed. “But that can change. Now, we’ve had a bit of fresher air, a chance to rest and relax; shall we go in again, perhaps seek some refreshment?”

“And a more comfortable, if admittedly less secluded, place to do the relaxing?”

Srevva laughed, rising with them. “That’s certainly all fair.”