Wintertide by Linnea Sinclair

restrain his young companion from dashing towards the gate and attempting to gain entry. Though her reading skills were rudimentary, the thought of endless knowledge beckoned to her like forbidden fruit. Only when he made clear to her that the library was not open to the average citizen, but only to those who ruled in the business, government or religious sectors of Noviiya did Khamsin cease her pleading. She stood, forlornly, in front of the spear-tipped locked gate like a chastised child.
    “Come, come. There’s much yet to see.” He chucked her affectionately under the chin.
    She raised her eyes to his. “It’s not fair that they should keep all that wisdom locked away.”
    “Ah, but little one, some people say that knowledge is a dangerous thing.”
    The Sorcerer, she felt, would be one of those.
    He drew her attention to the turrets of a tall building at the end of the street. “The Governor’s mansion.”
    “And that?” She pointed to a two-story building with colorful banners draped over its sides. Like the library, it too was encircled by an iron gate but this one was more elaborate, with scroll-work and curlicues adorning its base. A high arched window topped a wide, ornately carved wooden door. A nattily-attired young man, hawk-faced, in a brocade jacket and braid-trimmed stockings stood almost motionless, facing the street.
    “That’s the Games Palace.” At her quizzical expression, he continued. “Another toy for the wealthy and the privileged. It contains many rooms, each relegated to a different game or amusement. There are card games in some, games of skill and chance in others. There’s also a wrestling arena and a sword pit. And other things,” he added, as they made a sharp right before reaching the building they were discussing. “For those who seek their entertainment on more intimate levels.”
    The street ended suddenly. Khamsin found herself clasping onto a railing on the cliff’s edge. The dark surf pounded below her, the breakers licking hungrily at the rocks. The wind whistled through the railing. She drew a deep breath of salt and found, for the first time in her life, she was afraid of the sea.
    “It’s not like home,” she said.
    “No,” the Tinker agreed, his face serious. “No, the sea knows the difference, too.”
    She let the wind buffet her back. The edges of her cape flapped lightly and she could feel her short hair dancing around her neck. “I’m keeping you from your business here.”
    “Today? No, not today. Today I set aside just for you.”
    “That’s very kind of you, Tinker.” The warmth in her words was real.
    He tucked a trembling strand of hair around her ear. “Rylan. My name, Khamsin, is Rylan.”
    “Then I thank you, Rylan. You’ve shown more than an ordinary kindness to a stranger. It will not be forgotten.”
    “You talk as if I’m already a part of your past.”
    She shook her head. “No. It’s just that you can’t be part of my present. What I have to do breeds danger. It’s something I must do alone. For all the help you’ve given me, my friend, this, I’m afraid is out of your realm of experience.”
    “What do you have to do?”
    “Exactly, I’m not sure, which is part of the reason I had to come to Noviiya. The answer’s here, somewhere. And it involves the incidents that we discussed that night at my house. About Dram, and other villages to the South. As well as the raids on my village that not only granted me my life, but my friends and husband, their death.”
    “You seek revenge, then?”
    “Eventually. But for now I seek someone who can teach me what I need to know. You mentioned there were Healers here in the City. Are there any of great reputation that could provide me with the training I need?”
    “In Noviiya? Several, if you’re willing to pay the price.”
    “Which is?”
    He rubbed his fingers together, as if toying with coins.
    “Then they’re not Healers, they’re thieves!” She crossed her arms across