The delegate stopped at the edge of Maren's floor and waited for her to finish.
That was the first thing Soren clocked as he came up on her flank.
The man did not interrupt the fire.
He stood with his hands folded and watched the showcase run to its end, and there was courtesy in the waiting.
Real courtesy.
The patience of a person who considered it beneath him to break another person's work.
Maren finished the sequence.
The fire she'd been shaping folded back into her hands and went out.
The small crowd gave the scattered applause people give a thing they enjoyed without understanding, and Maren wiped her palms on her apron and finally looked at the man who'd been waiting.
"You're not here for the fire," she said.
"I enjoyed the fire."
"That's not what I said."
◆◆◆◆
The delegate inclined his head, a small concession.
