hands—his hope of a continuing eternity. Kurt began to understand why fathers chose their sons’ mates; and considering the affection that was evident between Nym and Ptas, he could no longer think such marriages were loveless. It was right, it was proper, and he sat cross-legged upon a fleece rug, equal to Kta, a son of the house, drinking the strong sweetened tea and feeling that he had come home indeed.
And after tea lady Ptas rose and bowed formally before the hearthfire, lifting her palms to it. Everyone stood in respect, and her sweet voice called upon the Guardians.
“Ancestors of Elas, upon this shore and the other of the Dividing Sea, look kindly upon us. Kurt t’Morgan has come back to us. Peace be between the guest of our home and the Guardians of Elas. Peace be among us.”
Kurt was greatly touched, and bowed deeply to lady Ptas when she was done.
“Lady Ptas,” he said, “I honor you very much.” He would have said—like a son, but he would not inflict that doubtful compliment on the nemet lady.
She smiled at him with the affection she gave her children; and from that moment, Ptas had his heart.
“Kurt,” said Kta when they were alone in the hall after breakfast, “my father bids you stay as long as it pleases you. This he asked me to tell you. He would not burden you with giving answer on the instant, but he would have you know this.”
“He is very kind,” said Kurt. “You have never owed me all of the things you have done for me. Your oath never bound you this far.”
“Those who share the hearth of EIas,” said Kta, “have been few, but we never forget them. We call this guest-friendship. It binds your house and mine for all time. It can never be broken.”
He spent the days much in Kta’s company within Elas, talking, resting, enjoying the sun in the inner court of the house where there was a small garden.
One thing remained to trouble him: Mim was usually absent. She no longer came to his rooms when he was there. No matter how he varied his schedule, she would not come; he only found his bed changed about when he would return after some absence. When he hovered about the places where she usually worked, she was simply not to be found.
“She is at market,” Hef informed him on a morning that he finally gathered his courage to ask.
“She has not been much about lately,” Kurt observed.
Hef shrugged. “No, lord Kurt. She has not.”
And the old man looked at him strangely, as if Kurt’s anxiety had undermined the peace of his morning too.
He became the more determined. When he heard the front door close at noon, he sprang up to run downstairs but he had only a glimpse of her hurrying by the opposite hall into the ladies’ quarters behind the rhmei. That was Ptas’ territory, and no man but Nym could set foot there.
He walked disconsolately back to the garden and sat in the sun, staring at nothing in particular and tracing idle patterns in the pale dust.
He had hurt her. Mim had not told the matter to anyone, he was sure, for if she had he had no doubt he would have had Kta to deal with.
He wished desperately that he could ask someone how to apologize to her, but it was not something he could ask of Kta, or of Hef; and certainly he dared ask no one else.
She served at dinner that night, as at every meal, and still avoided his eyes. He dared not say anything to her. Kta was sitting beside him.
Late that night he set himself in the hall and doggedly waited, far past the hour when the family was decently in bed, for the chan of Elas had as her last duties to set out things for breakfast tea and to extinguish the hall lights as she retired to bed.
She saw him there, blocking her way to her rooms. For a moment he feared she would cry out; her hand flew to her lips. But she stood her ground, still looking poised to run.
“Mim. Please. I want to talk with you.”
“I do not want to talk with you. Let me pass.”
“Please.”
“Do not touch me. Let me pass. Do you
And after tea lady Ptas rose and bowed formally before the hearthfire, lifting her palms to it. Everyone stood in respect, and her sweet voice called upon the Guardians.
“Ancestors of Elas, upon this shore and the other of the Dividing Sea, look kindly upon us. Kurt t’Morgan has come back to us. Peace be between the guest of our home and the Guardians of Elas. Peace be among us.”
Kurt was greatly touched, and bowed deeply to lady Ptas when she was done.
“Lady Ptas,” he said, “I honor you very much.” He would have said—like a son, but he would not inflict that doubtful compliment on the nemet lady.
She smiled at him with the affection she gave her children; and from that moment, Ptas had his heart.
“Kurt,” said Kta when they were alone in the hall after breakfast, “my father bids you stay as long as it pleases you. This he asked me to tell you. He would not burden you with giving answer on the instant, but he would have you know this.”
“He is very kind,” said Kurt. “You have never owed me all of the things you have done for me. Your oath never bound you this far.”
“Those who share the hearth of EIas,” said Kta, “have been few, but we never forget them. We call this guest-friendship. It binds your house and mine for all time. It can never be broken.”
He spent the days much in Kta’s company within Elas, talking, resting, enjoying the sun in the inner court of the house where there was a small garden.
One thing remained to trouble him: Mim was usually absent. She no longer came to his rooms when he was there. No matter how he varied his schedule, she would not come; he only found his bed changed about when he would return after some absence. When he hovered about the places where she usually worked, she was simply not to be found.
“She is at market,” Hef informed him on a morning that he finally gathered his courage to ask.
“She has not been much about lately,” Kurt observed.
Hef shrugged. “No, lord Kurt. She has not.”
And the old man looked at him strangely, as if Kurt’s anxiety had undermined the peace of his morning too.
He became the more determined. When he heard the front door close at noon, he sprang up to run downstairs but he had only a glimpse of her hurrying by the opposite hall into the ladies’ quarters behind the rhmei. That was Ptas’ territory, and no man but Nym could set foot there.
He walked disconsolately back to the garden and sat in the sun, staring at nothing in particular and tracing idle patterns in the pale dust.
He had hurt her. Mim had not told the matter to anyone, he was sure, for if she had he had no doubt he would have had Kta to deal with.
He wished desperately that he could ask someone how to apologize to her, but it was not something he could ask of Kta, or of Hef; and certainly he dared ask no one else.
She served at dinner that night, as at every meal, and still avoided his eyes. He dared not say anything to her. Kta was sitting beside him.
Late that night he set himself in the hall and doggedly waited, far past the hour when the family was decently in bed, for the chan of Elas had as her last duties to set out things for breakfast tea and to extinguish the hall lights as she retired to bed.
She saw him there, blocking her way to her rooms. For a moment he feared she would cry out; her hand flew to her lips. But she stood her ground, still looking poised to run.
“Mim. Please. I want to talk with you.”
“I do not want to talk with you. Let me pass.”
“Please.”
“Do not touch me. Let me pass. Do you
Similar Books
