"She had myriad ideas about how a lady should look, dress, speak, behave, think... and possibly breathe." Ari shrugged. "Sadly, I have been a terrible letdown for her, but my life is mine, and I told her that if she wanted obedience, she ought to consider getting a puppy."
She looked sheepish at Aspel's next statement. "I should apologize again, I suppose. Well, next time you come to my flat, I will be sober." And never mind the rest of the conversation about sobriety and drunkenness; she was not taking this there again. "I will show you my books, and you will be welcome to borrow any that strike your fancy."
She went to pour herself a refill and discovered the bottle was empty - when had that happened? "Time flies," she said. "And mead... disappears. Still, one more poem, as you seem to be nearly as fond of them as I am:
"Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there; From joy the holy branches start, And all the trembling flowers they bear. The changing colours of its fruit Have dowered the stars with metry light; The surety of its hidden root Has planted quiet in the night; The shaking of its leafy head Has given the waves their melody, And made my lips and music wed, Murmuring a wizard song for thee."
She drank the last of her mead and added, "I wrote this one all over the exam paper for the Mages' Guild when I was a child. They called me a dunce and showed me the door, which was exactly what I wanted." She picked up a napkin and asked, "Now, do you have a pen? I did not bring one, but you have more than paid my price, and you wanted a signature for the scavenger hunt, I believe."