though he tried to smother it. âItâs not usual for keepers to eat with disciples,â he said. He had a heavy accent, but Gabriel could not place it.
âWeâve got seven years here together,â Gabriel said. âBy the end of that time youâll have seen the very worst of me and, I hope, the best. Iâd feel easier about that if you were a friend rather than a servant.â
Slowly Ferron smiled. âIf thatâs your wish.â
âIt is. So wonât you get another plate, and eat with me?â
Ferron nodded and went into his sitting room. Looking through the doorway, Gabriel glimpsed walls covered with paintings, all scenes from a country unfamiliar to him. He was still staring at them when Ferron came back, a pottery plate and goblet in one hand and a cushion in the other.
âDid you paint your walls?â Gabriel asked, sitting down on his own cushion by the table.
Hesitantly, as if not quite comfortable with the arrangement, Ferron placed his cushion at the table across from Gabriel and sat down. In answer to Gabrielâs question, he said, âYes. Iâm employed here as an artist as well as a keeper. Though I painted my walls for my own pleasure, of course.â
âTheyâre beautiful,â said Gabriel, offering him the bowl of fruit. âThe pictures are of your country, I guess. Where are you from? Sadira?â
âAmaran.â
âMy father was a merchant,â said Gabriel. âHe often went to Amaran, brought back glass and metalware. He said Amaranians were a nation of craftspeople. Were you an artist in your own country, before you came here?â
âI was only a child at home, before the Navoran army overran my country. I was twelve when I was enslaved. Eshtemoh, my brother, was eight.â
âHave you seen him since?â
Ferron shook his head. He began peeling an orange. There were scars around his wrists, much lighter than his skin.
âWhere were you before you came to the Citadel?â Gabriel asked.
âI was in the palace for five years, before Salverion gave me my freedom and offered me a place here.â
âWhatâs the Empress like?â asked Gabriel,pouring them each a goblet of wine.
Ferron thought for a while before he answered. âFrom a slaveâs point of view, terrifying. But I think youâd get along well with her. You have a direct and honest look. She likes people around her to be confident and to look at her straight when they speak to her. She doesnât tolerate indecision, or clumsiness, or fear. Challenging, for a nervous slave.â
âChallenging for a nervous novice healer, too,â said Gabriel, and they laughed.
âSalverion told me that youâre a skilled swordsman,â remarked Gabriel.
âWe have an excellent gymnasium here, if you like exercise.â
âI do. I run every day, if I can. Iâd like to run later, barefoot, on real grass. Iâve never done that before.â
âIf you do go outside,â said Ferron, âplease stay on the lawn just outside your own rooms here. Iâm afraid the rest of the Citadel is forbidden, until youâve taken your vows.â
âHow many of us will be taking our vows?â
âOnly three tomorrow. There are several others elected, but they come from other parts of the Empire, and their ships havenât arrived yet.â
âWill you be there, at the ceremony?â
âNo. Donât worry; Salverion will explaineverything. You wonât make a blunder.â
âThatâll make a change,â said Gabriel, and Ferron looked amused.
After the meal Ferron showed Gabriel where the washrooms and latrines were, farther down the spacious pillared porch connecting all the apartments. Later, when Ferron had cleared away the remains of the meal and returned to his rooms, Gabriel went outside into the garden. The night was humid, the grass warm and slightly damp