come out? It would have destroyed every concession House Wilsin has had from Sanya’s weavers in the last year.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I really am.’
‘And do you have any idea how the contracts might have fallen out of your sleeve? The warehouse seems an odd place to have lost them.’
Liat blushed furiously and looked away. Amat knew that she had guessed correctly. It should have made her angry, but all she really felt was a kind of nostalgic sympathy. Liat was in the middle of her seventeenth summer, and some mistakes were easier to make at that age.
‘Did you at least do something to make sure you aren’t giving him a child?’
Liat’s gaze flickered up at Amat and then away, fast as a mouse. The girl swallowed. Even the tips of her ears were crimson. She pretended to brush a fly off her leg.
‘I got some teas from Chisen Wat,’ she said at last, and softly.
‘Gods! Her? She’s as likely to poison you by mistake. Go to Urrat on the Street of Beads. She’s the one I always saw. You can tell her I sent you.’
When Liat looked at her this time, the girl neither spoke nor looked away. She’d shocked her. And, as Amat felt the first rush of blood in her own cheeks, maybe she’d shocked herself a little, too. Amat took a pose of query.
‘What? You think I was born before they invented sex? Go see Urrat. Maybe we can keep you from the worst parts of being young and stupid. Leaving contracts in your love nest. Which one was it, anyway? Still Itani Noyga?’
‘Itani’s my heartmate,’ Liat protested.
‘Yes, yes. Of course.’
He was a good-looking boy, Itani. Amat had seen him several times, mostly on occasions that involved prying her apprentice away from him and his cohort. He had a long face and broad shoulders, and was maybe a little too clever to be working as a laborer. He knew his letters and numbers. If he’d had more ambition, there might have been other work for a boy like that . . .
Amat frowned, her body taking a subtle tension even before the thought was fully in her mind. Itani Noyga, with his broad shoulders and strong legs. Certainly there was other work he could be put to. Driving away feral dogs, for example, and convincing roadside thugs to hunt for easier prey than Marchat Wilsin. Marchat wouldn’t be keeping track of who each of his laborers was sharing pillows with.
And pillows were sometimes the best places to talk.
‘Amat-cha? Are you all right?’
‘Itani. Where is he now?’
‘I don’t know. Likely back at his quarters. Or maybe a teahouse.’
‘Do you think you could find him?’
Liat nodded. Amat gestured for a block of ink, and Liat rose, took one from the shelf and brought it to her desk. Amat took a length of paper and took a moment to calm herself before she began writing. The pen sounded as dry as a bird claw on pavement.
‘There’s an errand I want Itani for. Marchat Wilsin needs a bodyguard tonight. He’s going to a meeting in one of the low towns at the half-candle, and he wants someone to walk with him. I don’t know how long the meeting will last, but I can’t assume it will be brief. I’ll tell his overseer to release him from duty tomorrow.’
She took another sheet of paper, scraped the pen across the ink and began a second letter. Liat, at her shoulder, read the words as she wrote them.
‘This one, I want you to deliver to Rinat Lyanita after you find Itani,’ Amat said as she wrote. ‘If Itani doesn’t know that he’s to go, Rinat will do. I don’t want Marchat waiting for someone who never arrives.’
‘Yes, Amat-cha, but . . .’
Amat blew on the ink to cure it. Liat’s words failed, and she took no pose, but a single vertical line appeared between her brows. Amat tested the ink. It smudged only a little. Good enough for the task at hand. She folded both orders and sealed them with hard wax. There wasn’t time to sew the seams.
‘Ask it,’ Amat said. ‘And stop scowling. You’ll give
‘I know. I’m sorry. I really am.’
‘And do you have any idea how the contracts might have fallen out of your sleeve? The warehouse seems an odd place to have lost them.’
Liat blushed furiously and looked away. Amat knew that she had guessed correctly. It should have made her angry, but all she really felt was a kind of nostalgic sympathy. Liat was in the middle of her seventeenth summer, and some mistakes were easier to make at that age.
‘Did you at least do something to make sure you aren’t giving him a child?’
Liat’s gaze flickered up at Amat and then away, fast as a mouse. The girl swallowed. Even the tips of her ears were crimson. She pretended to brush a fly off her leg.
‘I got some teas from Chisen Wat,’ she said at last, and softly.
‘Gods! Her? She’s as likely to poison you by mistake. Go to Urrat on the Street of Beads. She’s the one I always saw. You can tell her I sent you.’
When Liat looked at her this time, the girl neither spoke nor looked away. She’d shocked her. And, as Amat felt the first rush of blood in her own cheeks, maybe she’d shocked herself a little, too. Amat took a pose of query.
‘What? You think I was born before they invented sex? Go see Urrat. Maybe we can keep you from the worst parts of being young and stupid. Leaving contracts in your love nest. Which one was it, anyway? Still Itani Noyga?’
‘Itani’s my heartmate,’ Liat protested.
‘Yes, yes. Of course.’
He was a good-looking boy, Itani. Amat had seen him several times, mostly on occasions that involved prying her apprentice away from him and his cohort. He had a long face and broad shoulders, and was maybe a little too clever to be working as a laborer. He knew his letters and numbers. If he’d had more ambition, there might have been other work for a boy like that . . .
Amat frowned, her body taking a subtle tension even before the thought was fully in her mind. Itani Noyga, with his broad shoulders and strong legs. Certainly there was other work he could be put to. Driving away feral dogs, for example, and convincing roadside thugs to hunt for easier prey than Marchat Wilsin. Marchat wouldn’t be keeping track of who each of his laborers was sharing pillows with.
And pillows were sometimes the best places to talk.
‘Amat-cha? Are you all right?’
‘Itani. Where is he now?’
‘I don’t know. Likely back at his quarters. Or maybe a teahouse.’
‘Do you think you could find him?’
Liat nodded. Amat gestured for a block of ink, and Liat rose, took one from the shelf and brought it to her desk. Amat took a length of paper and took a moment to calm herself before she began writing. The pen sounded as dry as a bird claw on pavement.
‘There’s an errand I want Itani for. Marchat Wilsin needs a bodyguard tonight. He’s going to a meeting in one of the low towns at the half-candle, and he wants someone to walk with him. I don’t know how long the meeting will last, but I can’t assume it will be brief. I’ll tell his overseer to release him from duty tomorrow.’
She took another sheet of paper, scraped the pen across the ink and began a second letter. Liat, at her shoulder, read the words as she wrote them.
‘This one, I want you to deliver to Rinat Lyanita after you find Itani,’ Amat said as she wrote. ‘If Itani doesn’t know that he’s to go, Rinat will do. I don’t want Marchat waiting for someone who never arrives.’
‘Yes, Amat-cha, but . . .’
Amat blew on the ink to cure it. Liat’s words failed, and she took no pose, but a single vertical line appeared between her brows. Amat tested the ink. It smudged only a little. Good enough for the task at hand. She folded both orders and sealed them with hard wax. There wasn’t time to sew the seams.
‘Ask it,’ Amat said. ‘And stop scowling. You’ll give
Similar Books
