14 | NEIL MAVRICK
“Oh, whenever I feel depressed or particularly fed up with life, I come here to watch the sun set. The beauty of it all invariably makes me f eel better and glad to be alive, as it did for you.”
Vincendo said nothing, although he nodded in agreement. She was right. And his headache had gone. “You’re not from Dallishes Land, are you?” she continued: “You speak our language well, but there’s a slight accent.”
As she spoke the girl climbed up and out of the shadows, to stand silhouetted against the ever-
“No,” he replied. “I’m here for a conference, but my home is in Ghentisland.”
“Then, welcome to Dallishes Land.” She immediately switched to using his own language.
“Thank you. My name is Vincendo, Vincendo Celest.”
“Greetings on this first time, Vincendo Celest.” She had a lilt, almost a laugh in her voice as she gave the customary greeting. “I am Vesha Reolindo.”
“Greetings, Vesha Reolindo,” he countered, feeling very much at ease in her presence, as she evidently was in his.
They turned together toward the town.
“Is it the conference on communications?” Vesha asked, and Vincendo nodded. “Ouch. That sounds heavy.”
He laughed at the expression in her voice. “Heavy, as in boring?”
She chuckled. An infectious chuckle. “No, not really.” Another chuckle. “Well, yes. Boring.”
“I’m sure many would agree with you, Vesha, but it’s all part of my job. I’m in charge of the Communications Centre in Ghentisland.”
“Oh.” Another of those chuckles. “Even heavier.”
Once again he laughed. “I’m surprised you even knew there was such a convention.”
“Ah. That’s part of my job. I’m a tourist guide, so I need to know what’s going on.”
“And how long have you been doing that?”
“Oh, just over five years. I qualified when I was twenty-