straightness of her forehead from the molelike people who had tilled the land since Before. Skin like hers hadn’t been subject to the unrelenting sun for thirty years. She was an imposter, this marsh girl, but she didn’t seem to know it. “I can’t answer,” she said finally.
Ningal knew he was too old to feel shut out, especially over a creature he’d plucked from the mud, what, yesterday afternoon? He straightened up and tensed his muscles one last time before he stood. He rose to his feet.
“Wait,” she said, seated yet. He looked on the top of her head from here. Light shimmered over her hair, caught the glimmer of color still on her eyelids, and focused on her lips. They were bare of paint, and ripe.
I need to get to the temple,
Ningal thought.
I need to bury these feelings in the appropriate vessel for passion and lust, not in this child, who is the age of my great-great-grandchildren.
“It’s not that I won’t tell you, it’s that I can’t. Of course I want a mate, but… what I want, who I want, is so specific I can’t put it into words.” She reached a hand up, and he helped her to her feet. They looked eye to eye at each other; he felt her pulse in the hand he held. Her gaze was that of a woman of knowledge. He knew in that instant she was aware of how she made him feel.
He stirred the same feelings in her; in her eyes, he saw she wanted him. He felt it in her touch.
Ningal released her hand, stepped away, and smiled at her. “It’s late for me,” he said. “Sleep well, female.”
“Can I get into school?”
“It’s never been done. Female humans don’t attend the Tablet House.”
“No,” she said, her voice firm, her eyes definitely green. “Female humans
haven’t
attended the Tablet House.”
Ningal smiled, then climbed the stairs to his bed. For this dawn, to be wanted was enough.
Chapter Four
Good day,” Chloe said to Kalam and Ningal, as they sat beneath the shade in the courtyard. “How was everyone’s rest?”
A slave offered her some beer and bread, and Ningal gestured for her to join them. Kalam seemed surprised to see her, but he hid it beneath a simpering glance. “I want to attend,” she said to Ningal. It was all she had dreamed of: those marks that looked like marsh birds’ feet in the mud, making sense! Being able to count, to write, to read! How glorious that could be! “When can I start?”
Kalam turned to Ningal. “What does she mean?” he said in an undertone.
“I want to attend school.”
Kalam spewed beer, then inhaled, choked, and coughed until his face was as red as the border of his cloak. “That’s a new word,” he gasped out at Ningal. “You told her that word?”
“She used it first herself,” Ningal said as he slapped his aide on the back. “She knew it already.”
Chloe hated that she didn’t know what word they were talking about, but she kept quiet while Ningal wiped spewed beer off his bare shoulder and from his beard. “I think I’ll be requiring a bath before court,” he said to the slave.
“I’m so sorry, sir, but I thought that, well—” Kalam looked at Chloe, and she looked back. She refused to be intimidated by him. He’d laughed at her last night—she didn’t blame him, she’d been ridiculous—but she didn’t like that he could do it again.
“She did say it, Kalam,” Ningal told him. “Chloe wants to attend the Tablet House.”
“Oh. Is that all?” He smiled at her and adjusted his drinking tube again.
“Does that mean I can?”
Kalam’s glance was dismissive. “Utterly impossible.”
“Kalam is an Old Boy from one of the foremost Tablet Houses in the city,” Ningal said.
“It really is an Old Boy network?” Chloe said. She wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by it, but the feeling was resignation. “Women aren’t allowed, is that what you are telling me?”
“It’s not a matter of allowance,” Kalam said. “It’s that it’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“It’s not
Ningal knew he was too old to feel shut out, especially over a creature he’d plucked from the mud, what, yesterday afternoon? He straightened up and tensed his muscles one last time before he stood. He rose to his feet.
“Wait,” she said, seated yet. He looked on the top of her head from here. Light shimmered over her hair, caught the glimmer of color still on her eyelids, and focused on her lips. They were bare of paint, and ripe.
I need to get to the temple,
Ningal thought.
I need to bury these feelings in the appropriate vessel for passion and lust, not in this child, who is the age of my great-great-grandchildren.
“It’s not that I won’t tell you, it’s that I can’t. Of course I want a mate, but… what I want, who I want, is so specific I can’t put it into words.” She reached a hand up, and he helped her to her feet. They looked eye to eye at each other; he felt her pulse in the hand he held. Her gaze was that of a woman of knowledge. He knew in that instant she was aware of how she made him feel.
He stirred the same feelings in her; in her eyes, he saw she wanted him. He felt it in her touch.
Ningal released her hand, stepped away, and smiled at her. “It’s late for me,” he said. “Sleep well, female.”
“Can I get into school?”
“It’s never been done. Female humans don’t attend the Tablet House.”
“No,” she said, her voice firm, her eyes definitely green. “Female humans
haven’t
attended the Tablet House.”
Ningal smiled, then climbed the stairs to his bed. For this dawn, to be wanted was enough.
Chapter Four
Good day,” Chloe said to Kalam and Ningal, as they sat beneath the shade in the courtyard. “How was everyone’s rest?”
A slave offered her some beer and bread, and Ningal gestured for her to join them. Kalam seemed surprised to see her, but he hid it beneath a simpering glance. “I want to attend,” she said to Ningal. It was all she had dreamed of: those marks that looked like marsh birds’ feet in the mud, making sense! Being able to count, to write, to read! How glorious that could be! “When can I start?”
Kalam turned to Ningal. “What does she mean?” he said in an undertone.
“I want to attend school.”
Kalam spewed beer, then inhaled, choked, and coughed until his face was as red as the border of his cloak. “That’s a new word,” he gasped out at Ningal. “You told her that word?”
“She used it first herself,” Ningal said as he slapped his aide on the back. “She knew it already.”
Chloe hated that she didn’t know what word they were talking about, but she kept quiet while Ningal wiped spewed beer off his bare shoulder and from his beard. “I think I’ll be requiring a bath before court,” he said to the slave.
“I’m so sorry, sir, but I thought that, well—” Kalam looked at Chloe, and she looked back. She refused to be intimidated by him. He’d laughed at her last night—she didn’t blame him, she’d been ridiculous—but she didn’t like that he could do it again.
“She did say it, Kalam,” Ningal told him. “Chloe wants to attend the Tablet House.”
“Oh. Is that all?” He smiled at her and adjusted his drinking tube again.
“Does that mean I can?”
Kalam’s glance was dismissive. “Utterly impossible.”
“Kalam is an Old Boy from one of the foremost Tablet Houses in the city,” Ningal said.
“It really is an Old Boy network?” Chloe said. She wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by it, but the feeling was resignation. “Women aren’t allowed, is that what you are telling me?”
“It’s not a matter of allowance,” Kalam said. “It’s that it’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“It’s not
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