Snow

Midday, when the church bells sang their song and David sang along with them, a passing priest gave him the address of a church and suggested he join its choir, bought him a glass of wine and talked to him of the great mysteries. "They say that over the mountains lies a land cursed by snow, forever forsaken because its inhabitants forgot to honor God."

"Some people like snow," David said and drank all the wine. He liked the way it tasted but the priest's words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

As the day progressed he was given more coins and a handful of grapes, a sweet wrapped in paper by a little girl who smiled when he said "Thank you" and replied "It dropped on the ground" and then ran away laughing. In the afternoon a man with a green hat stopped and listened to him sing three songs. When David finished the third he walked up to him, smiled and stood so the edge of his cloak brushed David's arm. It was green too and made of the softest velvet, sprinkled with glass colored to look like jewels.

"You sing wonderfully," the man said and though the look in his eyes reminded David a little of the woman who'd touched him earlier, it reminded him of the way his brother and sister had looked at him more. He wanted to look away but didn't, stayed staring into the man's eyes, watching them flicker hot and feeling his body spark in response.

"I have money," the man whispered "Do you like my cloak? I'll buy you one like it. Just come for a short stroll with me."

"A stroll?"

The man smiled. "There are corners everywhere. Pleasure's not hard to find, if you're willing to look."

David looked at the man. He was pleasant-featured, smiling. There was a stain on one of his fingers, a tiny teardrop of brown red. Across from him another singer was staring at David with wide warning eyes, shaking her head slightly and pointing to a long white curving scar on her face.

David touched the man's arm and the man shivered but didn't move away. Instead he moved closer. The man's eyes were definitely like his brother and sister's and when David stared into them he felt something dark stir inside him, something he couldn't name but knew wouldn't settle easily if it was released. He started to sing. The man frowned. He said something else, lower, his face angry, but David didn't hear him. He didn't listen.

He grew sad when the sun began to set, but wasn't sure why. He'd made coin, talked to people--

he was living a life like all the stories his nurse had told him. He'd journeyed to a strange land and was making his way through it. But something was missing. He didn't feel like he was in a story. He felt like he always had, the square just a larger noisier version of the quiet room he'd lived his whole life in. He felt alone even though he was surrounded by more people than he'd ever been before.

Then he saw Alec at the edge of the crowd passing through the square and knew what he was missing. Who he was missing. He waved, but Alec didn't seem to see him. David waded into the crowd and followed him.

Alec walked slowly, hands in his pockets. At the end of the second street they'd passed since the square, he stopped and turned to face him.

"Doing pretty well for yourself," he said. "Lots of coins."

"I guess," David said. "I haven't counted it yet, but--"

"That's good." Alec said. "What do you want?" There was a faint hint of impatience in his voice.

"I--I just wanted to talk to you," David said. "How was your day?"

Alec stared at him for a moment. "You have somewhere to stay?" he finally said.

"I--I guess I do," David said, thinking of the woman with the little dog, the man with the green hat. He knew there could be others. He didn't know how he knew, but he did.

Alec scowled for a moment before smiling, broad and not real. "That's great." He started to walk off.

"Wait," David said.

Alec turned around slowly and the not smile on his face had totally faded. "What?"

"Dinner." David said. It was the first thing that popped into his head and he thought frantically for something else to say. "I--I owe you a dinner!" he said triumphantly.

"No, you don't," Alec said. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"But--I--I miss talking to you."

Alec's expression shifted for a moment, going soft, startled. "Pretty hard up for conversation then, aren't you?" he said quietly.

"That means yes, right?"

"Yeah," Alec said. "But I don't see what you're smiling about. I heard you say you were going to pay, you know, and I'm holding you to it."

They ate dinner in a tavern as small and warm as the last one they'd been to but this one was filled with men like Alec, all of them marked with dark cracked hands, with starlight sprinkled on their clothes. No one said anything to him but David saw more than a few people looking at him and then at Alec with raised eyebrows or hungry wondering expressions.