Kevin followed her glance, by now well enough versed in the Tsurani pantheon to recognize the temple of Lashima, Goddess of Wisdom. Here, he recalled, Mara had spent months in study, in the hope of taking vows of service. The deaths of her father and brother had drastically changed that fate.
As though her own reminiscence followed his into the past, Mara said, ‘You know, I miss the quiet.’ Then she smiled. ‘But nothing else, really. The temple priestesses are even more bound to tradition and ritual than the great houses are. Now I cannot imagine being happy with such a life.’ She tipped a wicked glance at Kevin. ‘And certainly I would have missed out on some very enjoyable bed sport.’
‘Well,’ said Kevin, running irreverent eyes over the walls that surrounded the temple grounds, ‘maybe not – given luck, a length of stout rope, and a determined man.’ He bent over, cupped her chin, and kissed her as they walked along. ‘I’m a very determined man.’
From the other side of the litter, Arakasi shot the couple a black look.
‘You never will act the proper slave,’ Mara murmured. ‘I suppose we shall have to look over the precedent set in the arena by the Great One who was your countryman, and seek a legal way to set you free.’
Kevin missed a step. ‘That’s why we’re back in Kentosani! You’re going to look up the fine points of the law and see what’s changed since the games?’ He strode out, reestablished position at Mara’s side, and grinned. ‘Patrick might forget himself and kiss you.’
Mara made a face. ‘That would certainly earn him a beating! The man never bathes.’ Shaking her head, she added, ‘No, that’s not my reason for being here. If we can find the time, we’ll visit the Imperial Archives. But the Lord of the Ginecho comes first.’
‘Life would be so dull without enemies,’ Kevin quipped, but this time his Lady did not rise to the bait. Beyond the precinct of the temples, the avenue narrowed, and traffic became too thick to allow for conversation. Kevin fought against the press of the heavy crowds, using his greater height to prevent his Lady’s litter from being jostled. He realized that his years of captivity had not been entirely unhappy ones; he might not love all aspects of Tsurani society – the misery of the poor would never cease to bother him. But given the chance to become a free man, and stay at Mara’s side, he would choose this alien world as home. His horizons had widened since he had fought in the Riftwar. For him, a younger son, return to his father’s estate at Zun would offer poor prospects, no substitute for the excitement he had found in foreign and exotic Tsuranuanni.
So caught up in his thoughts was he that when Mara’s small retinue arrived at the Acoma town house, he did not raise his customary protest when the head servant there commanded him forthwith to unload the Lady’s carry boxes and heft them up to her chambers.
Midday passed, and the heat lessened. Bathed and refreshed since her journey, Mara prepared for her visit to the Lord of the Ginecho. Kevin declined the chance to attend her, insisting he would be unable to keep a straight face through the proceedings. In fact, Mara knew him to be fascinated with the markets of the Holy City, and in wistful reflection she agreed that an afternoon of shopping with the head servant of the house was bound to be more interesting than exchanging stilted small talk and veiled insults with a seventeen-year-old boy whose eyes were still puffed from weeping over his father. She indulged Kevin’s excuse and let him stay, and instead took Arakasi, unobtrusively clad as a servant. The Ginecho were too minor a house to warrant close observation by Arakasi’s agents, and the Spy Master himself desired the opportunity to pursue gossip with the house servants.
The litter departed from the town house courtyard in the late afternoon, accompanied by twenty warriors, a suitable number to impress Lord Ginecho that his enmity was taken seriously. For quickness, the entourage held to back streets, less packed with traffic.
They passed through cool tree-lined avenues lined by the garden courtyards of wealthy guild officials and merchants. Few folk noted their passage, and their only impediment was the occasional hand-pushed cart filled with vegetables that the servants of the very rich wheeled home. The soldiers stayed alert, though Arakasi held belief that no great house in the Empire would feel confident enough to attempt an assassination in public.