Sword and Verse by Kathy MacMillan Page B

wonderful.
    I couldn’t think; feeling had replaced thought, and suddenly my heart seemed capable of holding more than my brain ever had. The noise of the revelers on the streets faded, replaced by Mati’s soft murmurs in my ear.
    Mati stayed with me for a long time—and yet not long enough—and eventually we broke off kissing and talked of the banquet, and lessons the next day. But these mundane topics seemed magical when discussed with Mati’s head on my shoulder and his fingers twined through mine. I asked if he’d enjoyed the dancing. He laughed and looked sideways at me.
    â€œFather’ll complain that I didn’t dance with the western vizier’s daughters nearly often enough.” He absently traced his finger over my palm. “I wish Laiyonea would let you dance.”
    A pleased flush spread through me. “So do I,” I whispered. “She says it isn’t our place.”
    â€œNo one will find out,” Mati said softly. “As long as we don’t let Laiyonea suspect anything, she’ll still leave us alone in theAdytum sometimes. Besides,” he added with a grin, “it’s an easy climb to your window.” He leaned over and kissed me again, and any nerves I might have had vanished into a sigh.
    The knock on the door startled us both. Mati went still. I prayed to all the gods that we wouldn’t be found out, not yet.
    â€œRaisa,” came Laiyonea’s voice through the door. “Why is your lamp still lit?”
    I couldn’t think of a thing to say.
    â€œAnswer her, or she’ll come in to check on you,” Mati breathed impatiently into my ear.
    I found my voice. “The noises outside frightened me.”
    Mati seemed impressed—he probably hadn’t thought me capable of lying. Laiyonea obviously didn’t either, because she laughed fondly and said, “Well, I’m back now, so blow out the lamp and go to sleep.”
    â€œYes, Laiyonea,” I managed to say, before Mati kissed me again.
    â€œYou have to go,” I whispered when we broke apart.
    He nodded and brushed his lips against mine before he rolled off the bed and stood up soundlessly. I watched him blow out the lamp. Even Gyotia in his chariot couldn’t have been more beautiful than he was.
    As he crept to the window and disappeared into the night, I bit my tongue against a crazy urge to call him back.
    Rolling over, I squeezed my pillow—it still held his musky scent. When at last I fell asleep, I dreamed of asotis wheeling across the sky.

The seven gods breathed out the symbols of their power, awakening root and stream and stone, bringing forth living creatures—goats, cattle, oxen, small beasts of the fields. So the language of the gods was written into the earth, astonishing even the gods themselves as each day brought new creations.
NINE
    THE NEXT MORNING in the Adytum, I was so distracted that Laiyonea actually rapped my knuckles with her quill box to get my attention. “Honestly, Raisa! I’d planned to start you on the higher order symbols today, but—”
    I sat up straighter. “No! I’ll pay attention, I promise. I just . . . didn’t sleep well. Because of the noise from the festival and . . . the things the War Minister was saying last night.” Even if that wasn’t why I was distracted, I didn’t have to feign fear when it came to threats from the Resistance.
    Laiyonea smiled indulgently. “Raisa, you’re safe here.”
    I looked down at my paper to disguise my confusion. I did feel safe here, in the palace, in the Adytum, especially when I thought of Mati’s arms around me. But how could that be? Did the asotis feel safe in their cage?
    â€œVery well,” Laiyonea said. “I suppose you’re ready.”
    Fortunately, Mati had taught me the first three tensets bythen, so I didn’t have to concentrate too hard on the symbols Laiyonea introduced. In fact, I