The Gilded Gleeman

[Lawrence Monday]

Lythia Sedai

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Commanding men was never an issue for Lythia. A not so shy smile parted her lips with the temptation. “Maybe I will order you to sing for me later, gleeman. Or perhaps a dance?” A laugh mused from her chest as she led away from the dusty yard.  Vladamir oversaw their departure for some time, Lythia glimpsed over one shoulder. She was certain that he would have followed like a shadow if she but hinted at the desire of a watchman. Luckily for Zahir, she was quite content to keep the gleeman all to herself. “Don’t take offense to Vladamir Gaidin. He is like that around everyone,” she explained with a hint of amusement in her voice.

He was quite dirty by then despite the pats about his person else she may have slipped her arm through his for the stroll, but the dress was new and she did not desire to soil it so soon. It a deep blue slashed with emerald along the skirt. The neckline flattered beneath the length of her throat.

Their path led away from the training grounds. There was a rose garden ahead, and when they entered her gaze lingered briefly on a particular bush behind which she once stole moments with a certain warder in training many years before. That was before Kent knew he could channel. Those were the days before regular testing of the men and a channeler was only found by happenstance.

The moment of nostalgia passed. Kent wouldn’t hesitate to shield and capture her, probably lock her in the same type of dungeon in which she’d locked Arikan until his accusations could be proven. Until then, she was certain to make sure she was well-seen in the White Tower and rumors of her own design slithered like snakes through the halls. If it came down to his word against hers, she wanted the upper hand, and so far, he hadn’t acted against her. In fact, he was so scarce as Lythia began to think he stayed away on purpose. Or perhaps out of fear? He had bore witness to what rose from the tunnels of Corartheren.

She found the conversation with the gleeman to be easy and full of copious flirting, which Lythia encouraged, relishing the attention. He was quite different than her usual type. The dark hair, golden skin and severe cut of his jaw was decidedly western. She had enjoyed watching his spar with the warders for as long as it lasted. “For a gleeman, you handled yourself longer than I would have suspected against the warder,” she pried one time, following with questions about his learnings. The life of a traveling journeyman could certainly find rough moments, she mused. She was an apt listener to what stories he chose to share, particularly lighting up when those concluded with his triumphs and skirmishes.

She shared her own tales as prompted, but only so much as to hint that there was always more to the story. He wasn’t the first gleeman that drew her particular attention, but unlike the lesson learned with Byron, she intended to keep this one all to herself.