She presented him with the letter, and he understood she meant for him to read it here, and immediately.
He smiled a thin, cautious smile and broke the wax seal.
"Dearest Friend, You Are Invited!
"Selena Cowl, of the Fox Street Cowls (if there are any other, I don't know about them!), on the Tenth of Septembris, in the year 601 A.A., which is to say -- today, gently urges the pleasure of your company at 2 o'clock, which is to say -- now, for an afternoon stroll to places heretofore unknown, in hopes of pioneering every manner of newness.
"Always Yours,
"-- Selena."
She held out her arm. "Shall we?"
Corro didn't hesitate. He had no desire to spend the day musing alone upon sorrows and tragedies he could do nothing about. He took her arm and led her through the courtyard and toward the street.
"I'm happy to take you for an afternoon stroll," Corro told her --
"Stroll!" she said, with a mildly surprised look. "Didn't I write 'roll'?"
He laughed, then continued -- "But I'm afraid there is nothing new in this city -- not for people like you and me." He spoke in a lilting way. There had been a flirtatious humor to her letter, and he thought a little lilting might raise his spirits.
She shook her head. "I don't know what to make of it. One moment you're happy, the next you're afraid. Is happiness the opposite of afraidness?"
"There's no such word as afraidness."
"There ought to be, it makes fear sound whimsical. Who can be afraid in the face of whimsy?"
A young boy came toward them, leading a small number of long-haired sheep along the grazing path beside the street, all chained together in a web of clinking harnesses. Corro thought to say hello as they passed him, but then he saw the boy's face -- drained of human color. His eyes as red and wet as a fresh welt. And a heaviness sank over the day.
They weren't going to be able to talk it away.
"I'm not afraid, then," Corro said, preparing to banter. But his voice stopped. He was. He was afraid.
At the end of the street, she gripped his hand suddenly and squeezed it. "We must be pioneers today. We must find places heretofore unknown. You're behaving like someone who didn't read my letter. I urged it gently."
"In this city?" He scoffed.
"Is this city somehow unfit for gentle urges?" she challenged.
"It's a fine place for every kind of urge, but there is no newness here to pioneer. I've been everywhere and seen everything."
"Impossible."
"I've been every place worth going."
"I can take you somewhere you've never been..."
In other words -- what everybody else said.