herself up. ‘How dare you!’ she hissed. ‘How can you imagine that I would give myself to a dirty little artificer, and not a very good one either? The thought makes me sick. Get out!’
Nish flushed beneath the dirt. Across the room, Irisis was watching the show with open mouth. This afternoon he would be the laughing-stock of the manufactory. There was only one way to recover.
‘I don’t think you realise who my father is, Artisan Tiaan,’ he said coldly. ‘He is Perquisitor Jal-Nish Hlar, one of the most important people in the land. He is a high inquisitor! He can make you, Tiaan, or he can break you. And my mother is a chief examiner, nearly as important.’ Looking over his shoulder, he softened his voice. ‘I know you and Irisis are rivals, Tiaan. Think what you can achieve with a perquisitor’s patronage. You need never fear her again.’
He gave an uncertain smile, for Nish was new to this game. He’d not tried to use influence before and wasn’t quite sure how to go about it, despite having often seen it done in his scribing days. He lacked the authority, and the easy arrogance that told him he deserved whatever he desired.
‘What do you say, Tiaan? We can take pleasure from each other and your career will blossom. Do you want to work in this dungheap of a manufactory forever? Come –’
‘I would sooner mate with a lyrinx!’ she shouted. ‘I don’t care who your father is. I will never lie with you. Now get your squalid self out of my workroom!’
‘Why won’t you do your duty, artisan? What are you afraid of?’
Tiaan paled. ‘Go away, little man.’
Nish’s fury was barely controllable, but he made one last effort. ‘If you knew who I really am,’ he hissed, ‘you would not be so –’
‘Get out!’ she roared and, seizing a pair of red-hot tongs resting in a brazier, Tiaan brandished them before his face.
Nish broke. Bursting through the double doors, he raced past the infirmary, out through the wall and down towards the furnaces. He could not go back to his own bench, for everyone would see the tears of rage streaming down his face. Creeping around the back of the furnaces, he hauled a recalcitrant sweeper boy out of a warm niche, clipped the lad over the ear for neglecting his work and crept in to lick his wounds. He would ruin Tiaan, somehow. Then he would bed her and cast her off.
Shortly he heard soft footsteps and to his astonishment Irisis appeared. She squatted down before him, offering a snowy handkerchief.
‘Artificer Cryl-Nish,’ she said softly, winning his undying gratitude for using his name and not the detested nickname. ‘Would you like to learn how to pleasure a
real
woman?’
Nish could have fainted with astonishment. Irisis was not known for her kindness. Surely she was playing a cruel joke. He did not know what to say.
Bending forward, she gave him a savage kiss on the mouth. His body responded instantly. She laughed and took his hand, though she wrapped the handkerchief around it first. ‘Come to my room.’ Then she wrinkled her pretty nose. ‘No, to the bathhouse first, I think. We’ll neither of us be missed for an hour or two. Time for a couple of lessons.’ Her eyes met his. ‘And after that, we’ll find plenty to talk about on our pillows.’
‘Talk about?’ he said dazedly.
‘About who our friends are.
And our enemies!
’
F OUR
I risis propped herself up on an elbow, inspecting the youth who lay dozing in post-coital bliss beside her. She was not attracted to Nish at all, though she had to admit he had been vigorous, not insensitive, and displayed an admirable willingness to learn what pleased her. That was more than could be said for her previous lover. Her interest had been stirred by what he’d said to Tiaan, her rival here since childhood.
Irisis ran a hand down his chest. Nish was the least hairy man she had ever seen. She liked that, and the way their bodies touched. He smiled in his sleep. She slid her hand lower,
Nish flushed beneath the dirt. Across the room, Irisis was watching the show with open mouth. This afternoon he would be the laughing-stock of the manufactory. There was only one way to recover.
‘I don’t think you realise who my father is, Artisan Tiaan,’ he said coldly. ‘He is Perquisitor Jal-Nish Hlar, one of the most important people in the land. He is a high inquisitor! He can make you, Tiaan, or he can break you. And my mother is a chief examiner, nearly as important.’ Looking over his shoulder, he softened his voice. ‘I know you and Irisis are rivals, Tiaan. Think what you can achieve with a perquisitor’s patronage. You need never fear her again.’
He gave an uncertain smile, for Nish was new to this game. He’d not tried to use influence before and wasn’t quite sure how to go about it, despite having often seen it done in his scribing days. He lacked the authority, and the easy arrogance that told him he deserved whatever he desired.
‘What do you say, Tiaan? We can take pleasure from each other and your career will blossom. Do you want to work in this dungheap of a manufactory forever? Come –’
‘I would sooner mate with a lyrinx!’ she shouted. ‘I don’t care who your father is. I will never lie with you. Now get your squalid self out of my workroom!’
‘Why won’t you do your duty, artisan? What are you afraid of?’
Tiaan paled. ‘Go away, little man.’
Nish’s fury was barely controllable, but he made one last effort. ‘If you knew who I really am,’ he hissed, ‘you would not be so –’
‘Get out!’ she roared and, seizing a pair of red-hot tongs resting in a brazier, Tiaan brandished them before his face.
Nish broke. Bursting through the double doors, he raced past the infirmary, out through the wall and down towards the furnaces. He could not go back to his own bench, for everyone would see the tears of rage streaming down his face. Creeping around the back of the furnaces, he hauled a recalcitrant sweeper boy out of a warm niche, clipped the lad over the ear for neglecting his work and crept in to lick his wounds. He would ruin Tiaan, somehow. Then he would bed her and cast her off.
Shortly he heard soft footsteps and to his astonishment Irisis appeared. She squatted down before him, offering a snowy handkerchief.
‘Artificer Cryl-Nish,’ she said softly, winning his undying gratitude for using his name and not the detested nickname. ‘Would you like to learn how to pleasure a
real
woman?’
Nish could have fainted with astonishment. Irisis was not known for her kindness. Surely she was playing a cruel joke. He did not know what to say.
Bending forward, she gave him a savage kiss on the mouth. His body responded instantly. She laughed and took his hand, though she wrapped the handkerchief around it first. ‘Come to my room.’ Then she wrinkled her pretty nose. ‘No, to the bathhouse first, I think. We’ll neither of us be missed for an hour or two. Time for a couple of lessons.’ Her eyes met his. ‘And after that, we’ll find plenty to talk about on our pillows.’
‘Talk about?’ he said dazedly.
‘About who our friends are.
And our enemies!
’
F OUR
I risis propped herself up on an elbow, inspecting the youth who lay dozing in post-coital bliss beside her. She was not attracted to Nish at all, though she had to admit he had been vigorous, not insensitive, and displayed an admirable willingness to learn what pleased her. That was more than could be said for her previous lover. Her interest had been stirred by what he’d said to Tiaan, her rival here since childhood.
Irisis ran a hand down his chest. Nish was the least hairy man she had ever seen. She liked that, and the way their bodies touched. He smiled in his sleep. She slid her hand lower,
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