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the white shirt, scowled at it. A short dunking in icy water and a bit of
banging on the rocks cleaned the sweat smell but did nothing for dirt and
sweat stains. She folded it, held it against her, smoothed the sleeves down,
then rolled it into a tight cylinder.
"Why then? Last night you didn't object."
She set the shirt roll down, scooped up the trousers, snapped them vigorously,
then started to roll them up also.
"Last night." She looked down at the dark blue cylinder. "I need ... I need
affection, Hern. Given and gotten. Water for a killing thirst. Bread
against starvation." She tapped the cylinder of blue wool against
her thigh, shrugged.
"Passion." She smiled at him. "Pleasant as an extra, but not necessary, not
for me."
He ran his fingers impatiently through his hair. "Serroi, that doesn't explain
a damn thing. You don't have to sleep with me if we stay here another day.
What in zhag does it matter? You need the rest. I need the rest."
"And I have bad dreams. He knows I'm here."
"Serroi..." He took a step toward her.
"And don't take my boots off again, no matter what. He can get to me then."
Her hands were trembling; she saw him smiling at her, the ruby riding his lip,
a fire in its heart. He smiled at her and beckoned. She shuddered.
Hern caught her by the shoulders, pulled her to him, his strength overcoming
her instinctive resistance. He held her without words until the stiffness went
out of her body.
They rode in a companionable silence down the chalky track toward the alkali
plain glittering between the worn hills.
Hern was lost in thought, riding with automatic skill, holding his
rested and restive mount to an easy walk. Serroi frowned at the
bobbing head of her macai, her mind plodding in re-lentless circles about Hern
and Ser Noris and the weary ride to Shinka that lay ahead of them.
Intent on their concerns, neither of them heard the padding of half a dozen
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macain or the low, irregular rasping of ve-later hide against metal. They rode
around a bend and found themselves in the middle of six armored
and alert
Sleykynin.
CHAPTER IX:
THE MIJLOC
Burin Blanin stumped into the circle of moonlight, tugging at the sleeves of
his tunic, scowling. "When a man has to sneak out of his own house like a
thief ..." he muttered.
"You're not the only one." Vrom Santinin stopped beside one of the violated
Maiden columns. He touched the thick black paint splashed inexpertly in a long
swipe up and over the carved face, scanned the court, his eyes moving over the
painted pavement (more black paint, in thick almost unread-able letters) to
the fountain now dry, the dancing figure that used to stand clothed in water
and now had a thickening coat of dust over more disfiguring black paint. His
lips tightened and his long narrow face pulled together in a worried frown.
"What I'm bothered about most is spring. How we going to plant if Floarin
takes all our seed?" He moved past Burin, his long legs scissoring rapidly
across the court, his moonshadow jerking across the black paint and the
delicate floral design beneath it. "How you, Tesc."
"Well enough, better than the Plain."
"That's for sure." Burin glanced with some sadness at the silent fountain. "I
used to like the sound of that." He crossed to Tesc holding out a
massive hairy paw. "You looking good."
Havor Kalestin and Kimor Gradsigornin came into the court together. Havor
looked around, pursed his mouth to spit, then changed his mind and
swallowed. "The rot's in all our houses," he grumbled. "You look around and
all you see is black. More'n half your folk are wearing it. Getting so even
the food taste like hauhau shit. They won't let us
Maiden-bless it, we have to listen to some git preaching at us, enough to make
a posser puke."
Kimor chuckled. He stopped in front of Tesc. "Salah sends greetings and good
wishes, says you're to know you're wel-come in our home." He wrinkled his long
humped nose.
"Says you're her brother and zhag can swallow any damn traitor in her
household."
"Thanks, cousin. How you put up with that tongue. . . . He grinned, shaking
his head.
"And if Annie needs anything, clothes, you know. . . ." He chuckled
softly. "What a hoo-haw. First the terrible twins, then you bust Annie
and Sanani loose a couple weeks later. The Decsel he went roaring about with
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