The Assassins of Tamurin (41 page)

“I’ve abeady thought about it. If you come and live in the Reed Pavilion, I’ll give you title to a villa in the city on one of the best canals. I’ll also settle a life income on you, so you’ll have your upkeep if you decide to go and live there. All this will be legally set out and sealed under my hand and paid from my estates as long as you live.”

And then he added what I’d dared not hope for. “Along with that,” he said, “I’ll make it as formal as I can, short of marriage. I want you as my Inamorata.”

I was glad the darkness hid my expression, for I was trying to suppress a delighted smile. Perin could hardly have asked for more. More to the point. Mother would be very, very happy. Even Nilang might sniff her approval.

And me? Was my delight only in my success at getting Mother what she wanted? I thought it was, but I had so perfected the art of lies that I could conceal the most obvious truth from anyone, including myself. And this truth was that I stood on the brink of falling in love with my enemy, and didn’t know it.

“All right,” I said softly. “I’ll come to the Reed Pavilion, Terem, and be your Inamorata.”

The palace walls suddenly loomed above us; the skaffie was almost at the postern’s water steps. I seized a mooring ring, drew us alongside the quay, and Terem shipped his scull and climbed ashore. I stood up and he helped me onto the stone beside him.

The guards were nearby, in the shadows of the narrow gate. He kissed me anyway. I’d had an idea of what to expect but I was still astonished at how strongly I responded. As the kiss deepened, I felt the same disturbing sensations that had troubled me when I was applying his disguise, but this time they were much more heated and showed powerful signs of becoming warmer still. He was holding me tightly, and I felt profoundly safe and protected. An illusion, for I’d die the slicing death if he ever found out what I was.

I managed to draw back and whisper, ‘Terem, I have to go home. Perin will be wondering where I am. And your mourning for the Surina isn’t over. We must observe custom, or people will speak badly of you.”

He released me. We were both breathless, as if we’d run a long distance. “You’re right,” he said in a hot voice that warmed me even more. “But as soon as the palace is out of mourning, you’ll join me?”

“Yes,” I murmured, “I said I will. But . . . Terem, may I send word to Mother? She’ll approve, I know, but it’s best I teU her soon.”

He stepped back, still holding me by the shoulders. “You can tell her in person, if you like.”

“I can? What are you taking about?”

“She’ll be here soon after the end of the month, with four other Despots. They’re coming to discuss an alliance. I’ve kept it quiet so far, but I’ll be announcing the state visit in a couple of days.”

I could hardly believe it. I’d see Mother again, after almost two years. But my delight was tempered by a sudden worry that it might be a trap for her, if not for all the visiting Despots. The Chancellor had a hand in this, after all.

I gave several exclamations of delight and thanked him for telhng me, although I was quite chagrined that I hadn’t found this out before he told me. “But how,” I went on, “did you persuade them all to come? Despots don’t like straying far from their capitals, and they’re putting themselves in your hands.”

“I promised them help if they retumed home and found trouble, and I swore on my honor that they would have safe conduct everywhere in Bethiya. Also, they know I’m their strongest support against Ardavan. Altogether it was enough to get them here, although it may not be enough to persuade them to an alliance.”

I relaxed. Mother was safe, for I knew that Terem would always stand by his personal oath. “You can persuade them if anyone can,” I told him. The eastem sky was no longer perfectly black, and I heard a gull cry plaintively from the lagoon. “But look, dawn’s coming. Really, I have to go. But I’m so glad you told me . . . May I tell Master Luasin that I won’t be going back to Istana? And Perin? She’s such a good friend to me.”

“You can tell the whole Elder Company, if you like, but caution them to keep it quiet until the mouming period ends. That’s just a few days from now.”

“All right,” I agreed. He helped me back into the skaffie and I put my face up to his. He kissed me again, and then I sculled away from the quay. I was weary but exhilarated. The first game of the match was over and I’d won. Or I thought I had.

Propriety demanded that we tell Mother of my new status before she arrived, so Terem and I wrote a letter asking her blessing and sent it off by govemment courier. I dispatched my own account of the event by way of Nilang, including all that Terem had told me of his intentions to restore the empire.

He also announced the Despots’ state visit. Preparations for it began immediately, causing sleepless nights among the protocol officials at Jade Lagoon but excitement in the rest of the city, for we Durdana delight in spectacles. In such feverish activities the end of Ripe Grain slipped by, and White Dew began. The official mourning period for Merihan ended on the second of the month, and three days after that, I became Terem’s Inamorata.

I was not to be his wife, so the occasion did not have the spectacle and opulence of a state marriage. I was just as glad of this, because the ritual of a Surina’s elevation took two days and required a month of rehearsals beforehand, and I had better things to do with my time. But to be installed as Inamorata took less than an aftemoon; it was a simple ceremony, in which Terem pledged to provide for me while I was his consort and decreed that this provision would continue even if he should set me aside. For my part, I agreed not to do anything that would disgrace him or his station and that if I did, he need no longer support me.

I was, I confess, a little disappointed that the ceremony didn’t have more passion to it—when our witnesses were announcing the terms, it sounded more like a commercial arrangement than a love affair. On the other hand, I didn’t have to swear fidelity to Terem in the name of Father Heaven and the Bee Goddess, as a bride would. Consequently, I reckoned, I was in no danger of divine retribution for spying on him.

After the pledges, an honor guard conducted Terem, me, and the witnesses to the Lesser Banquet Hall, where we ate the celebratory meal. With us were some fifty guests, including the Elder Company, the Chancellor, Terem’s chief ministers and their wives, and assorted hangers-on. Compared to the vast festivities of a Bethiyan dynastic marriage, it was tiny, but I didn’t care. Terem and I sat side by side, and it seemed I could feel the warmth of him even through my court robes.

By the time we’d eaten and the speeches had finished, night had fallen and it was time for us to go. An honor guard and a torchlight procession escorted us to the Reed Pavihon, which would be my residence in the palace. The soldiers took up station around the building, and the guests, except for Perin, dispersed.

Tradition dictated that a woman of rank should prepare the Inamorata for the Sun Lord’s bed, but I’d chosen Perin instead, to her incandescent joy. So while Terem went to the salon, where his body servants would help him change, I retired with Perin to the attiring room that adjoined the bedchamber.

The servants had aheady been in to light the lamps and lay out my night clothes, which the palace seamstresses had produced under the fastidious eye of the palace’s Wardrobe Mistress. My robe was of layered blue gossamin, translucent and embroidered with white and gold roses, with a cloud design behind them. Its sleeves hung gracefully in the latest fashion, and over it I wore a mantle dyed the priceless scarlet hue called heaven’s dawn.

Emitting exclamations of dehght, Perin helped me undress and put on the robe and mande. When we were finished, I stood before the tall silver mirror and considered the results. This, I decided, was clearly what I’d been bom for; I’d never looked so marvelous in my life.

“What do you think?” I asked Perin.

“I mustn’t say, or the Moon Lady will be jealous of you.” She laughed. “But I think the Sun Lord will approve most heartily.”

She helped me adjust my hair and fixed some shght imperfections in my makeup. “There, you’re ready for anything,” she said. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” I confessed. “I hope I please him.”

“Oh, you will. He’s your first, for one thing. That always pleases a man. However, just in case ...”

Perin whispered several suggestions into my ear. I giggled, but they sounded interesting.

“I’ll be sure to try them,” I said, when she finished. “Merciful heaven, but not all at once! You want things to last, not finish in a dozen heartbeats!”

“I’ll be careful, then.”

She accompanied me into the bedchamber, where a dozen bronze lamps bathed the carved paneling and the ceiling fi-escoes in a rich soft glow. Underfoot, the floor was laid with cream-glazed tiles and scattered with gossamin rugs. The high bed occupied the center of the room; near it were a couch and two chairs, as well as a low table set with wine and water jugs, and several dishes of sweetmeats. We were, apparently, expected to keep our strength up.

Perin kissed me on both cheeks and said, “It’s time. Be happy, Lale.”

Ever the actress, I answered, “I’m sure I will.”

She slipped from the room. I composed myself demurely on the couch, hands clasped in my lap, and waited. Nothing happened. I was more nervous tíian I’d let Perin know; I poured myself a little wine, without much water, and drank it.

Soft footsteps. Terem entered the room, stopped short, and stood gazing at me. I would have risen, but I was abruptly unsure whether my knees would work as they should.

“Lale,” he said.

“My lord,” I answered. “Terem.”

He cleared his throat as if unsure of himself. “I’ve never seen you more lovely.”

“Thank you.” He was no less a delight to me: his robes, trimmed with red badger fur, shimmered in russet and gold, and on it were running deer whose eyes and hooves were rubies. And oh, he was a handsome man, and those green eyes ...

“Come sit with me ” I said. My throat was dry. “Wine?”

“A little, please.”

He joined me on the couch. For all my usual glibness, I could find nothing to say, and I didn’t understand why I suddenly felt so awkward. Why wasn’t he helping me with this?

But I wasn’t sure, now, what I expected of him. It wasn’t that he’d stride into the chamber, carry me off to the bed, and immediately make love to me—I wanted a more tantalizing approach. Besides, he wasn’t much bigger than I was, so being lugged around the room, however romantic that might be, was probably not in my future.

I poured wine for him and had some more myself. I’d drunk only a small amount at dinner, but now I was beginning to feel a pleasant mellowness.

“Do you,” I asked as I gazed thoughtfully into my cup, “regret finding an actress in your bedchamber?” I didn’t realize until I’d spoken that I was quoting the heroine of
The Butterfly Dream,
a book I’d borrowed from Imela. I could only hope Terem hadn’t read it.

He regarded me as if I’d grown a second head. “Of course not. But you’re teasing, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I drank a little more wine and put down the empty cup. I was more relaxed now, even though Terem kept looking at me in a particularly intent way, which made me feel as if my bones were beginning to melt. But I didn’t quite know what to do next. Why in the name of Our Lady of Mercy didn’t he just kiss me?

Instead he took both my hands in his and said, “For that matter, do you regret finding
me
in your bedchamber?”

Another phrase from
The Butterfly Dream
leaped into my head and popped out of my mouth before I could stop it. “On the contrary,” I answered, “I think I am the most favored woman under the sun, or under the moon, too, to have you love me.”

Terem looked pleased, if a little mystified. But my performance still wasn’t moving him in the right direction, so I cast around in my memory for other lines that might do the trick. Among them I found the courtesan’s advice from
The Three Beauties of Golden Mountain,
wherein she says to her sister, “A man’s ear may attend to a woman’s speech, but what seizes his eye is the sway of her bottom.”

‘Terem,” I blurted, “have you ever seen the tassel dance?” His eyebrows rose. “No, I’ve never heard of it. But it sounds interesting. Wll you show me?”

When Kidrin taught it to me years before. I’d had only an inkling of what its movements represented. But as a grown woman I knew very well what the gyrations meant, and if I hadn’t been reckless from the wine, and from certain other sensations as well. I’d have blushed to the roots of my hair.

Even so, I tried to wriggle out of it by saying “Oh, but I haven’t any tassels.”

Terem leaned closer. “Well, maybe you can pretend you do. Where is it from?”

“The south, I think,” I answered weakly, wondering if I remembered the steps. “I learned it from another student at school. She came from Guidarat.”

“I’d be delighted to see it. Please show me.”

I’d got myself well into the soup kettle now, so there was nothing to do but cast caution to the winds and oblige him. I stood up and pushed a mg out of my way, and as I did, the steps of the dance came back to me, along with the song Kidrin had used for it: “Stepping Down the Mountain.”