She snuggled closer to him. “You must have been important to be part of the court of such a man.”
“Not really; I did him a service and was rewarded for it.” He didn’t think he wanted to bring up Carline’s name here. Somehow his boyhood fantasies about the Princess seemed childish in light of this night.
Katala rolled over onto her stomach. She raised her head and rested it on a hand, forming a triangle with her arm. “I wish things could be different.”
“How so, love?”
“My father was a farmer in Thuril. We are among the last free people in Kelewan. If we could go there, you could take a position with the Coaldra, the Council of Warriors. They always have need for resourceful men. Then we could be together.”
“We’re together here, aren’t we?”
Katala kissed him lightly. “Yes, dear Pug, we are. But we both remember what it was to be free, don’t we?”
Pug sat up. “I try to put that sort of thing out of my mind.”
She put her arms around him, holding him as she would a child. “It must have been terrible in the swamps. We hear stories, but no one knows,” she said softly.
“It is well that you don’t.”
She kissed him, and soon they returned to that timeless, safe place shared by two, all thoughts of things terrible and alien forgotten. For the rest of the night they took pleasure in each other, discovering a depth of feeling new to each. Pug couldn’t tell if she had known other men before, and didn’t ask. It wasn’t important to him. The only important thing was being there, with her, now. He was awash in a sea of new delights and emotions. He didn’t understand his feelings entirely, but there was little doubt what he felt for Katala was more real, more compelling, than the worshipful, confused longings he had known when with Carline.
Weeks passed, and Pug found his life falling into a reassuring routine. He spent occasional evenings with the Lord of the Shinzawai playing chess—or shah, as it was called here—and their conversations gave Pug insights into the nature of Tsurani life. He could no longer think of these people as aliens, for he saw their daily life as similar to what he had known as a boy. There were surprising differences, such as the strict adherence to an honor code, but the similarities far outnumbered the differences.
Katala became the centerpiece of his existence. They came together whenever they found time, sharing meals, a quick exchange of words, and every night that they could steal together Pug was sure the other slaves in the household knew of their nighttime assignations, but the proximity of people in Tsurani life had bred a certain blindness to the personal habits of others, and no one cared a great deal about the comings and goings of two slaves.
Several weeks after his first night with Katala, Pug found himself alone with Kasumi, as Laurie was embroiled in another shouting match with the woodcrafter who was finishing his lute. The man considered Laurie somewhat unreasonable in objecting to the instrument’s being finished in bright yellow paint with purple trim. And he saw absolutely no merit in leaving the natural wood tones exposed. Pug and Kasumi left the singer explaining to the woodcrafter the requirements of wood for proper resonance, seemingly intent on convincing by volume as much as by logic.
They walked toward the stable area. Several more captured horses had been purchased by agents of the Lord of the Shinzawai and had been sent to his estate, at what Pug took to be a great deal of expense and some political maneuvering. Whenever alone with the slaves, Kasumi spoke the King’s Tongue and insisted they call him by name. He showed a quickness in learning the language that matched his quickness in learning to ride.
“Friend Laurie,” said the older son of the house, “will never make a proper slave from a Tsurani point of view. He has no appreciation of our arts.”
Pug listened to the argument that still could be heard coming from the wood-carver’s building. “I think it more the case of his being concerned over the proper appreciation of his art.”
They reached the corral and watched as a spirited grey stallion reared and whinnied at their approach. The horse had been brought in a week ago, securely tied by several leads to a wagon, and had repeatedly tried to attack anyone who came close.
“Why do you think this one is so troublesome, Pug?”
Pug watched the magnificent animal run around the corral, herding the other horses away from the men. When the mares and another, less dominant, stallion were safely away, the grey turned and watched the two men warily.