you lay eyes on her. Loathe her as I do, even I have to admit she is astonishingly beautiful.”
“I would have thought him a better judge of people,” offered Keeva.
“You don’t know much about men, do you?” Norda said with a quick smile. “When Lalitia passes by, you can hear the sounds of jaws striking the ground. Strong men, bright men, scholarly men—even priestly men—all fall under the spell of her beauty. They see what they want to see. Women, on the other hand, see her for what she is: a whore. And not as young as she pretends. I’d say she was closer to forty than the twenty-five she claims.”
Other servants had begun to arrive, gathering their food and finding places to sit and eat. A young man in a gray mail shirt approached them. Removing his helm, he smiled at Norda. “Good morning,” he said. “Will you introduce me to the newcomer?”
Norda smiled. “Keeva, this is Emrin, the guard sergeant. He thinks he’s more handsome than he is and will do everything in his power to lure you to his bed. It is, sadly, his nature. Do not judge him too harshly.” Keeva glanced up at the man. He had a round, good-looking face and blue eyes. His hair was light blond, short, and tightly curled. Emrin extended his hand, and Keeva shook it.
“Do not believe everything Norda says about me,” he told her. “I am really a sweet, gentle soul seeking the perfect partner for my heart.”
“Surely you found him the first time you looked in a mirror,” Keeva said with a sweet smile.
“Sadly, that is true,” Emrin said with disarming honesty. Taking her hand, he kissed it, then turned his attention to Norda. “Be sure to tell your new friend what a great lover I am,” he said.
“I will,” said Norda. She glanced at Keeva. “The best ten heartbeats I’ve ever experienced.” Both women laughed.
Emrin shook his head. “I think I should leave,” he said, “while I have a modicum of dignity left.”
“Too late,” said Keeva. The man grinned and moved away.
“Neatly done,” said Norda. “He will pursue you with even greater vigor.”
“Not something I desire,” Keeva told her.
“Oh, don’t rule him out,” said Norda. “As he says, he really is quite good in bed. Not the best I have known but more than adequate.” Keeva burst into laughter, and Norda joined in.
“So who was the best?”
Keeva knew it was the wrong question as soon as she spoke. The good humor faded from Norda’s face. “I am sorry,” Keeva said swiftly.
“Don’t be,” Norda told her, laying her hand over Keeva’s. “Now we’d better finish breakfast, for there is much to do. There are several more guests due to arrive today, and one of them is a Chiatze. Believe me, there is no race so fussy.”
3
U SING LONG, LAZY strokes, Waylander swam through the cold water. He could feel the warmth of the sun on the skin of his back, and he dived deep, through shoals of silver-backed fish, which scattered before him. Rolling and twisting, he felt a surge of joy. Here there was silence and—almost—contentment. Relaxing, he let his body float upward toward the sun. Breaking clear of the surface, he drew in a deep breath, tossed back his head to clear the hair from his eyes, and trod water while he gazed around the bay.
At the harbor opposite were a dozen ships unloading their cargoes, while anchored farther out on the bay were twenty more waiting for the signal to dock. Twenty-eight of the ships flew under the flag of the tree. His ships.
It seemed incredible to Waylander that a man like himself, without a great understanding of the subtleties of commerce, should have become so ridiculously wealthy. No matter how much he spent now, or indeed gave away, more gold flowed in. Matze Chai and other merchants had invested Waylander’s money well. But even his own ventures had paid off handsomely. It is all a grand nonsense, he thought, as he floated in the water. He had lost track of the number of ships he owned.
“I would have thought him a better judge of people,” offered Keeva.
“You don’t know much about men, do you?” Norda said with a quick smile. “When Lalitia passes by, you can hear the sounds of jaws striking the ground. Strong men, bright men, scholarly men—even priestly men—all fall under the spell of her beauty. They see what they want to see. Women, on the other hand, see her for what she is: a whore. And not as young as she pretends. I’d say she was closer to forty than the twenty-five she claims.”
Other servants had begun to arrive, gathering their food and finding places to sit and eat. A young man in a gray mail shirt approached them. Removing his helm, he smiled at Norda. “Good morning,” he said. “Will you introduce me to the newcomer?”
Norda smiled. “Keeva, this is Emrin, the guard sergeant. He thinks he’s more handsome than he is and will do everything in his power to lure you to his bed. It is, sadly, his nature. Do not judge him too harshly.” Keeva glanced up at the man. He had a round, good-looking face and blue eyes. His hair was light blond, short, and tightly curled. Emrin extended his hand, and Keeva shook it.
“Do not believe everything Norda says about me,” he told her. “I am really a sweet, gentle soul seeking the perfect partner for my heart.”
“Surely you found him the first time you looked in a mirror,” Keeva said with a sweet smile.
“Sadly, that is true,” Emrin said with disarming honesty. Taking her hand, he kissed it, then turned his attention to Norda. “Be sure to tell your new friend what a great lover I am,” he said.
“I will,” said Norda. She glanced at Keeva. “The best ten heartbeats I’ve ever experienced.” Both women laughed.
Emrin shook his head. “I think I should leave,” he said, “while I have a modicum of dignity left.”
“Too late,” said Keeva. The man grinned and moved away.
“Neatly done,” said Norda. “He will pursue you with even greater vigor.”
“Not something I desire,” Keeva told her.
“Oh, don’t rule him out,” said Norda. “As he says, he really is quite good in bed. Not the best I have known but more than adequate.” Keeva burst into laughter, and Norda joined in.
“So who was the best?”
Keeva knew it was the wrong question as soon as she spoke. The good humor faded from Norda’s face. “I am sorry,” Keeva said swiftly.
“Don’t be,” Norda told her, laying her hand over Keeva’s. “Now we’d better finish breakfast, for there is much to do. There are several more guests due to arrive today, and one of them is a Chiatze. Believe me, there is no race so fussy.”
3
U SING LONG, LAZY strokes, Waylander swam through the cold water. He could feel the warmth of the sun on the skin of his back, and he dived deep, through shoals of silver-backed fish, which scattered before him. Rolling and twisting, he felt a surge of joy. Here there was silence and—almost—contentment. Relaxing, he let his body float upward toward the sun. Breaking clear of the surface, he drew in a deep breath, tossed back his head to clear the hair from his eyes, and trod water while he gazed around the bay.
At the harbor opposite were a dozen ships unloading their cargoes, while anchored farther out on the bay were twenty more waiting for the signal to dock. Twenty-eight of the ships flew under the flag of the tree. His ships.
It seemed incredible to Waylander that a man like himself, without a great understanding of the subtleties of commerce, should have become so ridiculously wealthy. No matter how much he spent now, or indeed gave away, more gold flowed in. Matze Chai and other merchants had invested Waylander’s money well. But even his own ventures had paid off handsomely. It is all a grand nonsense, he thought, as he floated in the water. He had lost track of the number of ships he owned.
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