want to wake all the house?”
“Do that, if you like. But I will not let you go until you talk with me.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Kta will not permit this.”
“There are no windows on the garden and we cannot be heard there. Come outside, Mim. I swear I want only to talk.”
She considered, her lovely face looking so frightened he hurt for her; but she yielded and walked ahead of him to the garden. The world’s moon cast dim shadows here. She stopped where the light was brightest, clasping her arms against the chill of the night.
“Mim,” he said, “I did not mean to frighten you that night. I meant no harm by it.”
“I should never have been there alone. It was my fault.—Please, lord Kurt, do not look at me that way. Let me go.”
“Because I am not nemet,—you felt free to come in and out of my room and not be ashamed with me. Was that it, Mim?”
“No.” Her teeth chattered so she could hardly talk, and the cold was not enough for that. He slipped the pin off his ctan, but she would not take it from him, flinching from the offered garment.
“Why can I not talk to you?” he asked. “How does a man ever talk to a nemet woman? I refrain from this, I refrain from that, I must not touch, must not look, must not think. How am I to—?”
“Please.”
“How am I to talk with you?”
“Lord Kurt, I have made you think I am a loose woman. I am chan to this house; I cannot dishonor it. Please let me go inside.”
A thought came to him. “Are you his? Are you Kta’s?”
“No,” she said.
Against her preference he took the ctan and draped it about her shoulders. She hugged it to her. He was near enough to have touched her. He did not, nor did she move back; he did not take that for invitation. He thought that whatever he did, she would not protest or raise the house. It would be trouble between her lord Kta and his guest, and he understood enough of nemet dignity to know that Mim would choose silence. She would yield, hating him.
He had no argument against that.
In sad defeat, he bowed a formal courtesy to her and turned away.
“Lord Kurt,” she whispered after him, distress in her voice.
He paused, looking back.
“My lord,—you do not understand.”
“I understand,” he said, “that I am human. I have offended you. I am sorry.”
“Nemet do not—” She broke off in great embarrassment, opened her hands, pleading. “My lord, seek a wife. My lord Nym will advise you. You have connections with the Methi and with Elas. You could marry,—easily you could marry, if Nym approached the right house—”
“And if it was you I wanted?”
She stood there, without words, until he came back to her and reached for her. Then she prevented him with her slim hands on his. “Please,” she said. “I have done wrong with you already.”
He ignored the protest of her hands and took her face between his palms ever so gently, fearing at each moment she would tear from him in horror. She did not. He bent and touched his lips to hers, delicately, almost chastely, for he thought the human custom might disgust or frighten her.
Her smooth hands still rested on his arms. The moon glistened on tears in her eyes when he drew back from her. “Lord,” she said, “I honor you. I would do what you wish, but it would shame Kta and it would shame my father and I cannot.”
“What can you?” He found his own breathing difficult. “Mim, what if some day I did decide to talk with your father? Is that the way things are done?”
“To marry?”
“Some day it might seem a good thing to do.”
She shivered in his hands. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks.
“Mim, will you give me yes or no? Is a human hard for you to look at? If you had rather not say, then just say ‘let me be’ and I will do my best after this not to bother you.”
“Lord Kurt, you do not know me.”
“Are you determined I will never know you?”
“You do not understand. I am not the daughter of Hef. If you ask
“Do that, if you like. But I will not let you go until you talk with me.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Kta will not permit this.”
“There are no windows on the garden and we cannot be heard there. Come outside, Mim. I swear I want only to talk.”
She considered, her lovely face looking so frightened he hurt for her; but she yielded and walked ahead of him to the garden. The world’s moon cast dim shadows here. She stopped where the light was brightest, clasping her arms against the chill of the night.
“Mim,” he said, “I did not mean to frighten you that night. I meant no harm by it.”
“I should never have been there alone. It was my fault.—Please, lord Kurt, do not look at me that way. Let me go.”
“Because I am not nemet,—you felt free to come in and out of my room and not be ashamed with me. Was that it, Mim?”
“No.” Her teeth chattered so she could hardly talk, and the cold was not enough for that. He slipped the pin off his ctan, but she would not take it from him, flinching from the offered garment.
“Why can I not talk to you?” he asked. “How does a man ever talk to a nemet woman? I refrain from this, I refrain from that, I must not touch, must not look, must not think. How am I to—?”
“Please.”
“How am I to talk with you?”
“Lord Kurt, I have made you think I am a loose woman. I am chan to this house; I cannot dishonor it. Please let me go inside.”
A thought came to him. “Are you his? Are you Kta’s?”
“No,” she said.
Against her preference he took the ctan and draped it about her shoulders. She hugged it to her. He was near enough to have touched her. He did not, nor did she move back; he did not take that for invitation. He thought that whatever he did, she would not protest or raise the house. It would be trouble between her lord Kta and his guest, and he understood enough of nemet dignity to know that Mim would choose silence. She would yield, hating him.
He had no argument against that.
In sad defeat, he bowed a formal courtesy to her and turned away.
“Lord Kurt,” she whispered after him, distress in her voice.
He paused, looking back.
“My lord,—you do not understand.”
“I understand,” he said, “that I am human. I have offended you. I am sorry.”
“Nemet do not—” She broke off in great embarrassment, opened her hands, pleading. “My lord, seek a wife. My lord Nym will advise you. You have connections with the Methi and with Elas. You could marry,—easily you could marry, if Nym approached the right house—”
“And if it was you I wanted?”
She stood there, without words, until he came back to her and reached for her. Then she prevented him with her slim hands on his. “Please,” she said. “I have done wrong with you already.”
He ignored the protest of her hands and took her face between his palms ever so gently, fearing at each moment she would tear from him in horror. She did not. He bent and touched his lips to hers, delicately, almost chastely, for he thought the human custom might disgust or frighten her.
Her smooth hands still rested on his arms. The moon glistened on tears in her eyes when he drew back from her. “Lord,” she said, “I honor you. I would do what you wish, but it would shame Kta and it would shame my father and I cannot.”
“What can you?” He found his own breathing difficult. “Mim, what if some day I did decide to talk with your father? Is that the way things are done?”
“To marry?”
“Some day it might seem a good thing to do.”
She shivered in his hands. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks.
“Mim, will you give me yes or no? Is a human hard for you to look at? If you had rather not say, then just say ‘let me be’ and I will do my best after this not to bother you.”
“Lord Kurt, you do not know me.”
“Are you determined I will never know you?”
“You do not understand. I am not the daughter of Hef. If you ask
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