fortress.”
“You’re enjoying this,” he accused, keeping his eyes firmly shut.
“Idisio,” she said, her tone turning serious, “it is a signal honor to be your kathain, however briefly. I do not wish you any distress; that is no part of my job. I do wish you would relax and trust me.”
“It’s not you,” he said. Somewhere to his right, a woman cried out softly—he couldn’t tell whether in pain or pleasure.
She sighed. “I understand,” she said. “Believe me, I understand. But to leave now—I’m truly sorry, ha’inn. Southern status is a very complicated thing. You must not appear to be fleeing something so simple.”
“Simple?”
The woman cried out again—definitely pained this time. Idisio ground his teeth together, flickers of silver turning over behind his closed eyelids, a rank smell coating his nostrils; he inhaled deeply, focusing on the smell of apples and ginger, and made himself relax again.
“Yes. Simple. The kathain you hear is trained to handle such as Lord Ondio. She will not truly be harmed.” Anada paused, sighed, then went on. “I take no joy from your distress over this, ha’inn. I understand you see this differently than we do. When I saw you arrive, I had hoped the gathered lords would wait rather longer before availing themselves of this room after Conclave, and that a gentler one would be first in. F’Heing lords are always a little—energetic. Their tastes and customs differ from Scratha—rather widely.”
The sharp slap of a hand against wet skin echoed through the thick air. Idisio shivered, his stomach turning over. Deiq’s dry parting comment came to mind: Between you and Alyea... Idisio had a feeling that Deiq wouldn’t have any trouble with this situation at all. But Deiq didn’t know... and had probably better never find out, either.
“What happened to that sacred bit you mentioned, that equality you told me about?” he demanded, pushing distress into anger to keep unpleasant memories from surfacing. “How does that allow for —this?”
“Customs differ,” she said, no less serene. “If you will trust me, Idisio—there is already a screen set between; that is from Lord Ondio’s own preference. You will see nothing, which may help, and if you will speak with me, the noises will soon be irrelevant.”
Idisio swallowed hard and risked a glance; a simple folding screen of wooden panels blocked off the view, as promised. He couldn’t help muttering, “She’s trained?”
A faint smile flitted over Anada’s face. “Tell me,” she said gravely, “what the great city of Bright Bay is like. I am told you lived there for a time, and I suspect most of what I have heard is rather exaggerated or distorted. Is there truly a gate cast all about with gold and diamonds?”
“Yeah,” Idisio said. “The gold, anyway. I didn’t ever see any diamonds.” He began to relax.
“What wastefulness,” Anada said, a little wistfully. “There are more of these gates, is this true? I was told of one used only by the dead, which I do not understand.”
“Oh, yeah, the Black Gate,” Idisio said readily. “That one’s not really a gate, I don’t think. I mean, it used to always be open... .”
The sounds beyond the screen eased from pained yelps to more guttural growls of mutual pleasure; Idisio found his breath coming more easily, and Anada’s smile brightened in response. She was very attractive, and her laugh was more — more graceful, somehow, than Riss’s usual coarse guffaw. Idisio blinked hard and told raucous jokes to distract himself from thinking about the differences between Anada and Riss. She promptly matched him, bawdy for bawdy. His chest began to hurt from laughing, and the nearby noises altogether faded from his notice.
By the time the water cooled and Idisio stepped out for a towel-down, Lord Ondio—and his companions—had long since left.
Idisio scarcely remembered they’d been there at all.
Chapter Six
Rain pounded down