If he hadn’t been so rude before, I’d have ‘woken up’ and asked him if he was all right—but I knew it wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, I just lay as quietly as I could, hoping not to catch his attention.
Then I heard another sound, a sound I’d heard once or twice sleeping rough. It was a sound desperate men made, separated from their families, hungry, cold and alone in a foreign land. A sound of loss, of grief—of despair. The sound of weeping carefully muffled to avoid being thought weak, or attracting attention.
That nearly did it. I’m not made of stone, and however crazy this bastard was, no one cried like that for nothing. I almost reached for him—and then pulled back my hand. I wasn’t a friend. I wasn’t even someone he respected. All he would feel would be anger and shame that I had noticed his weakness. He already threatened to kill me for touching him, and that was without the rest of it to make it worse.
So I continued to lie still, and finally the quiet sobs ended. Not long after, the snuffling deepened into the slow rhythm of true sleep and I could relax. But I still couldn’t get to sleep for a long time after that. Every time I turned around, this situation got more confusing, more complex....
And, I suspected, much more dangerous.
~~~~~~~~
He was gone when I woke—and so was the damn book. He was sitting already dressed, at the table, reading. “You know, the book was fine until you started pulling on it. I wasn’t doing anything to it.”
He glared at me, no trace of last night’s grief in his expression. “You could have rolled on it.”
“
Not likely. I used to read in bed all the time, never damaged a book yet. You’re just being spiteful.” So much for making friends with him, but I hated pettiness in all its forms. “You care a lot more about books than people.” He gave me a little shrug, as if to say, ‘of course I do.’ “Is it because people hurt you and books don’t?”
He shut the book he was reading very carefully, then stood up. “Keep your remarks to yourself. Keep your observations to yourself. Get dressed, eat and then get out of my sight.”
“
No. Not until you give me the book back. It’s inhumane, expecting me to sit in a room by myself all day with nothing to occupy myself.”
“
Do you feel yourself so cruelly used? Was it someone else who turned up yesterday, starving, desperate, with a broken head? Is it someone else I see before me, clean, fed and well rested? I don’t recall stating we would do anything but pay you. It’s your own stupidity that has led to this. Now get out of my
sight
!”
The bastard may have had a knife, but I had more stubbornness than a balky cow, always have had, when pushed. “No. In fact, I’m going to sit here and watch you all day if I have to. It’s better than staring at the walls.”
He refused to answer, and instead reopened his book and began writing notes on paper to one side. I pulled out a chair noisily, sat down and folded my arms. I was confident the irritation of my presence would be enough to make him give in. But interesting, I thought—he’d not made a single threat, just demands. Either he was learning that they didn’t really work with me unless you carried them through, or he had been unsettled yesterday and was more rational today. There didn’t seem to be much difference other than that.
It
was
more interesting than looking at the walls, I had to admit, although it wasn’t the way I would have chosen to spend my days given a choice. I spent a little time speculating what on earth he was doing—was he just translating the book he was peering at so intently? But no, he seemed to be looking at several, and cross-referencing between them. Then he had to consult some letters in a file, and then there was more scribbling. His expression, though intent, was somehow less...severe? He had severe features, cold although rather beautiful, so some of that he couldn’t help. But his eyes were somehow less chilly as he read, and he chewed his lip from time to time, a surprisingly human habit I wouldn’t have suspected in him.
He looked up several times and saw me watching him. I gave him a bright smile each time, and his expression would go blank before he looked back down at his work. I wasn’t doing a very good job at either irritating him or distracting him, unfortunately. I began to count the books I could see around him, and was staggered to find I had reached two hundred before I’d finished a single wall. How could he afford so many? How could he
read
so many? I wasn’t much of a scholar myself, but I loved to read and would plough through almost anything I could get my hands on. I knew no one who owned so many books themselves, but in our village, we had a small but respectable library for everyone’s use, for the teacher to use for the children, and for the edification of the adults. I’d read every book in it, several times. I wished I was there now.
The wave of homesickness that came over me at that memory, made me sigh, and he looked up. “Go and get dressed.”
The order was phrased less harshly than before, and I chose to interpret it as a slight softening of attitude. “Don’t I need to bathe first?”
“
No.” His expression tightened. “We’ll do that tonight...before....”
“
It’s tonight? You said two days.”
“
Yes. This is the second day.”
Right. He was correct, of course. I just thought I’d have more time before I had to face this. “Clothes?”
“
All that are in the dresser are for your use. Leave the dirty ones where I instructed.”
He was still being, for him at least, close to polite, so I obeyed, even washing my face, hands and mouth without waiting to be ordered to do so. I guess he had an obsession with oral hygiene since he might have to kiss me—and for some reason, that made me more nervous than the prospect of being fucked by him. Kissing was for lovers—not for whores, and for all his airs, he was a whore too. I found my stomach tying itself into knots again.
Stop it, I told myself. It’s a job. He’s not revolting. No doubt he’ll want it over as quickly as I will. But the uneasiness remained, and would not go no matter what I told myself.
I resumed my seat, and my dedicated examination, but he paid me no more attention for nearly two hours, by which time I was hungry and my bottom was getting sore from the hard seat. “You’re not going to give in, are you?” He ignored me. “See, I’m not either. How about a compromise—ever heard of them? I read out here under your supervision, I don’t bother you or talk to you, and you can make sure I don’t damage your books or fall asleep over them. That seems fair, don’t you think?”
He still ignored me, and I lost my temper. “Oh, for the gods’ sake, Jaime!”
That made him look up, a sneer on his lips. “The gods?” he said in a quiet voice. “You ask this for the gods’ sake? Why should I give them one more thing than they already have, since they have everything I am, or could ever want. What more could I give them that would make a difference?”
The sharp bitterness in the soft words stung me. “I thought you were this terribly pious person, who would give up everything for Lord Paon.”
“
Think what you like.”
“
Jaime, please....”
“
You realise that’s the first time you’ve said that? You lecture me about manners and civility, but you demand my precious possessions, all that I have to keep my mind from rotting, you abuse my trust when I reluctantly grant you a concession and you sit here like a spoiled child for three hours to try and force me to change my mind—and only now it occurs to you to say ‘please’? Truly, your breeding must not be anything exceptional.”
The bright scorn hurt, because it was just. I got up and bowed. “I’m sorry. I have been rude, and inconsiderate. I didn’t mean to cause you offence.”
I walked back into the bedroom and threw myself on the bed. “Oh yes, Nikolas, some silver tongue, when you forget basic politeness.” He’d been rude too, but he’d not presumed to lecture me on proper behaviour. All he had asked of me was all that I had agreed to. And I hadn’t specified books in my contract, so it was my own damn fault.
It looked as if the penalty for my own failing was going to be boredom and hunger, but the hunger was merely a twinge after what I’d been putting up with lately. As for the boredom—all I had to content myself with were memories of home. I hadn’t had much homesickness since I’d left—things were too awful there, and my father and brothers had long since moved away. I’d stayed because I thought I could make a living working with my uncle, but the drought had put an end to that plan. Since then, it had been a battle just to survive. Now was the first time I had leisure, ironically enough, to think about what I had left behind, my friends, my uncle—although it hurt to know how desperate their situation must be.
I covered my eyes and indulged in a little selfish misery, but then thought if I really was going to be ‘busy’ that night, I may as well try and sleep some more even though I wasn’t tired, just depressed. I rolled over—and found Jaime was watching me from the doorway. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“
Lunch is ready. We will need to fast this evening, so it will be the last meal today.”
Surprised at his moderate tone, I followed him out. Lunch was plain—cheese, bread and cold, cooked beans. Simple but tasty, and my empty stomach wasn’t complaining. I left off trying to talk to Jaime, only thanking him as politely as I could when he set the food down and when he took the plate away. I noticed he still didn’t eat much. I got up to return to the bedroom. “Wait.” I turned. “I.... My books...I....”
“
It’s all right, Jaime. I can see they’re important to you. I won’t ask for them again. When I’m allowed to leave the temple, I can buy one of my own.”
He nodded, but still seemed to be trying to say something. “I...some of them...I can’t.... If they were lost....” He clenched his fists. “You may read...here.”
“
Are you sure? I don’t want to upset you.”
He immediately became cold. “You haven’t. Wash your hands and you may read under supervision.”
The brief distress seemed utterly gone, but for those few moments, he looked so hurt, so desperate. There had to be more to it than mere greed over a few books.
Grateful for the concession, I wasn’t going to push him. I returned and sat meekly where he indicated, and he put the book he’d removed in front of me. To be frank, I was no longer interested in the book. I was feeling so heartsick now. Was this what my father had wanted for me when he had spent so long patiently training me to work silver and steel? When my brothers thought of me, living with their families in the north, did they imagine me a whore, trapped with another tormented individual, reduced to begging for the smallest favour?
“
If the book is not to your taste, I will choose another.”
I forced myself to smile. “It’s fine, thank you. I...Tell me what happens this evening, and when?”
He folded his arms and his eyes were cold and unreadable again. “At sunset. You and I will clean our bodies, inside and out, and be taken to the god’s chamber. The fortunate woman who is to receive his seed will be prepared there, and we will...perform...until the god grants his blessing to her.”
It sound like something he’d been told to say, not that he believed. “Is there...a prescribed pattern?” Gods, I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation.
“
All that is asked of you is that you be receptive. You must not utter a single word, on pain of severe punishment. I would caution you not to interfere in the least with anything you see done in the chamber, regardless of your feelings. Minas himself presides—Minas has no mercy. You have no value to him or to anyone, do you understand?”
He said it in such a way that I knew it was only a simple statement of fact. I just nodded. “Will it take long?”
“
Half an hour, no longer. Unless....” He took a deep breath. “Unless the god withholds his blessing. Then it might...you must not say anything, do you understand? If you want to live, do not utter a word, do not act against anyone, do not protest in any way. You are being paid for utter obedience, and it is demanded.” He stared at me. “Do you understand this, Nikolas? Your mouth will be your undoing. I can only tell you this and hope you will remember. I will not, can not, spare you if you ignore my warning.”
“
No, I won’t ignore it. I thank you for it. Jaime...why do you do this? You obviously hate it.”
He closed up immediately. “The god wishes it. Finish your book.”
Damn. Every time he started to look remotely human, he did this—became cold and cruel, like some kind of automaton. But the warning was a concession too, although it might just be to spare punishment on his own head—I got the impression it wasn’t, not mostly, but he was giving me no clues at all now, immersed in his note taking.
I let him be, and became absorbed in the text. It was actually quite interesting, as there was a lot of history of Gidin and the courts, the way the king’s powers had waxed and waned over time, and how a courtier could use this to their advantage. Jaime made no sound except the gentle rustle of his pages and his notes, and never spoke. It wasn’t much like being in the library in my village, but it wasn’t unpleasant for all that.