I shrugged. “If there’s no other call on my time, I don’t mind lending a hand. My mother taught me how to make bread, and I make a tasty sweet cake.”
That got me a fresh appraisal. “Is that so? Well, I’d like to see that—the bumboy with his hands covered in flour. You come down sometime and we’ll see how you fare.”
“
You’re on.”
There wasn’t time for more than that before Jaime returned with a sack and a small box, which he handed to me. I wondered if he’d heard any of the exchange. I said goodbye politely and gave the younger girls one of my brighter smiles. I never knew when I might need an ally, and the kitchen staff were as good a place to start as any.
We collected a pile of freshly washed and folded clothes and bed linen from the laundry, and an empty nightsoil can from the latrines. As outings went, it was very, very ordinary, but I was still glad to have done it. For one thing, it was nice to know there were real human beings around the place. The second...well, it was interesting to know that Jaime was held in such low regard by his fellow servants, and that his role and mine were hardly a secret. Did it mean the servants didn’t believe in the God incarnate, or that they just accepted what he supposedly did?
More questions, no answers. As we came back to the rooms, I asked him, “What happened to Josia?”
His mouth tightened. “He ran away after a week. He’s the one fertilising the garden.”
“
You mean—the guy who was here just before me, he’s dead?” He gave me a cool stare as an answer. “How long ago?”
“
Two weeks.”
He took the box of vegetables from me while I was still contemplating this information, and stored them carefully on racks in the kitchen. “So...after he left and before I arrived, who...I mean....”
He folded his arms. “Whoever they gave me. Is it your habit to persist when it’s so very obvious this is a subject on which I do not want to converse?”
“
Hey, it’s my job now, and if you lot are just going around high-handedly killing runaway servants, don’t you think I need to know about it?”
“
You were warned before you signed the indentures. That’s as much discussion as I will have with you about it.” He took the clothes away from the table and walked into the bedroom.
I guessed, for him, he’d been pretty tolerant of my curiosity, and he was still rather depressed. I sat at the table and waited for him to return, and when I put my hand on the book in enquiry, he nodded. At least he wasn’t taking his mood out on me again.
That set the pattern for the next two weeks. Four more times our services were required. The day after, he would be withdrawn, but gradually recover some animation. He disappeared most other nights for a few hours, and always returned looking weary and desperately sad. Some nights I heard him crying, others I did not. The rest of the time, he worked quietly at his books, and I joined him when I wasn’t doing small errands. I realised pretty quickly that interaction with the other servants was as painful to him as it was welcome to me, so he gladly let me take on those chores. Until I could go outside the temple, it was my only contact with other people.
The actual job still revolted me, and I still burned to know the whole story, but in reality it occupied less than a couple of hours every few days. I could tolerate it, if I had to, and for now, I had to. I gained no release from his hands, and he never came at all that I saw, nor tried to relieve himself afterwards. His attentions were pleasurable for a brief period, but not in the least joyful or satisfying. I suppose that was a relief to me—I would have hated to find I came to like such a situation.
The rest of the time I was making a study of Jaime and of the other servants. The disdain they held him in was less on account of what he did, than his cold, superior attitude, which they felt was him looking down on them. I was coming to realise it was just his way of protecting himself from people, who he found a source of unrelieved pain. Why he was like that, and why he was in this situation, I had yet to find out. But I had already learned that he had only been in the temple for four years. Before that, there had been another surrogate who’d disappeared. No one knew what his fate was. I had an uneasy feeling that he too was fertilising a few roses, but no one really had any clue to offer. One day the man disappeared—a week later, Jaime turned up, and he’d been cold and distant from the start. The surrogate previous to the one who’d disappeared had died. Mia was the only one who knew much about them but she’d only been at the temple for seven years, so if there had been other surrogates, she didn’t know about it. The other surrogates had not been, so I learned, particularly warm or happy people either, but Jaime had really put noses out of joint, and in doing so, had lost potential allies.
It was beginning to sound like he’d been chosen for his role against his wishes, reluctantly obeying the dictates of his religion. It might explain a lot—the resentment, the coldness, the wish for solitude. But I was damned if I could work out the reason for his grief, and his strange restraint in his appetites of all kinds. It was almost as if he was punishing himself.
I had to get out of the temple—I was spending too much time worrying about a man who cared nothing for me, nor me for him, and who was only going to be part of my life for a couple of months.
At last it was two weeks after my arrival. We had served the god the night before, so I wasn’t sure Jaime was going to cooperate in letting me go, but to my surprise, after breakfast, he gave me a small leather purse and a key to the rooms. “There are three silver pieces in there—an advance on your salary so if you waste it, that’s your loss. It has to last you a week, there will be no more. Don’t try to remove or sell your collar and bracelet, do not attempt to have sexual contact with anyone, and be back before midnight.”
“
That’s it?”
“
What more do you want?”
“
Er.... I was expecting more trouble, that’s all.”
“
I think you’ll probably manage to find that on your own.” He rubbed his eyes. He looked very sad this morning.
“
Would you like to come with me?”
He stopped rubbing his eyes and stared at me. “Why?”
“
Um...for company? Fresh air? Something different from books?”
The wrong thing to say. “I like my books,” he said with a steely glare.
I held my hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. Do you want me to fetch anything while I’m out?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. Thank you. I...I’ll be going out myself. Perhaps tomorrow.”
“
Then we can go together.”
“
Nikolas, just get out of here, will you?”
He wasn’t angry, but equally he wasn’t in a mood to talk to me, so I gave up. He told me how to find the main temple entrance, and warned me not to speak of my new position to anyone. That was why I needed the cloak, apparently—to avoid questions. It made sense, I supposed.
Being out in sunlight and breathing air that didn’t smell vaguely (or strongly) of burnt flesh was such a relief I nearly cried. I didn’t know how Jaime could stand it, especially when he had the option of going out just as I was.
Oh well. The streets seemed as busy as ever, and were a welcome sight after two weeks’ seclusion—somehow it had felt longer. I wondered what to do with my wealth and my leisure. I’d not actually spent any time in Egin without the ever-present worry of trying to survive, or needing to find work. In fact, in six months, I had had hardly a moment of truly restful time at all.
It was certainly novel to walk past the shops and the market stalls and the inns, knowing I had coins to spend, even to waste if I wanted to, but perversely, I could find nothing I really craved to own. I was well fed, well clothed, and it was too early to want a beer. I ended up just strolling along the main avenue, the one that ran in front of the palace down to the dock. Stretching my legs felt good, as did the sun on my face. It was odd to see my fellow Jendonese, still so desperate, when I walked along with my future relatively secure. After my experience with Johan and Syros, I felt less inclined to share my good fortune, but I wasn’t exactly attracting friendly looks anyway. It took me a little while to realise it was because of my cloak, my sandals, were those that the priests wore—they took me for one, or at least, they knew me for a temple creature. I could hardly deny that I was, or explain what I was doing even if they asked me.
I wondered if I really was being watched, as Jaime had warned—I doubted he would say it if I was not. He, after all, could hardly care if I ran off except it put him to the trouble of replacing me. I reminded myself to ask him why he had chosen me in the first place—you never knew with him, he might just answer such a question.
I walked down to the docks, and watched the ships for a while, homesickness afflicting me again as I saw ships bound for Jendon. The drought had to end one day....
I sighed finally and headed back to town. I wondered if a silver coin or two would buy me a book of my own in this city. There was a street of booksellers, one I knew well since I had walked it many times looking for casual labour. Booksellers were rather stingy, I’d found, and would rather do without help than pay for a bit of extra assistance. I stepped into the first one I came to. “Oy, I told you the other day. I’ve no work for the likes of you.”
I turned and gave the merchant a sweet smile. “Yes, you were just as polite then. But I’m here as a customer today, unless, of course, you want to turn away my business.”
“
Cus....” He stopped and took in the cloak, the fine linen trousers. “That’s temple clothing.”
“
Is it? Do you do much trade with them?”
“
Not me. Joa down the street has a regular, wears a cloak just like that. Comes in a lot, I see him, but he never comes in here. Guess I’m not good enough for him,” he sniffed.
Privately I was intensely curious to speak to this Joa, but I made myself stop and look at the books on offer in this particular shop, the owner hovering all the time as he expected me to steal something. He was vastly overrating the value and interest of his stock if he did. Most of the books were turgid biographies of self-important Gidinians, or even more boring books on mathematics or physics which looked completely out of date. I’d almost decided that there really was nothing of use to me, when I saw a dog-eared volume that I remembered from my mother’s kitchen. “How much?”
“
This?” He picked it up as if it would give him the pox. “I don’t even know how it got on this shelf.”
“
Never mind that—how much?”
“
A quarter coin.”
That was the smallest coin they used in this land—it would hardly dint my small funds at all. “Done.”
He looked at it in distaste. “Someone’s left that here as a joke,” he muttered as he accepted my silver.
“
Perhaps you should just give it to me then, if it’s not really for sale.”
“
It’s on the shelf, it’s for sale.” He handed me back my change with some reluctance. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can tempt you with?”
Something more expensive, was what he meant. “Not today,” I said politely. “But I’ll return.” And likely find nothing better to choose from. Still, he bowed respectfully as I left. Amazing the difference having a little money made with some people.
I discreetly asked which shop was owned by Joa, and was directed there. I’d been in there once or twice, but the owner didn’t recognise me, although he did recognise the cloak. “Oh, do you know Master Jaime?”
“
I might do. Why do you ask?”
“
I have letters for him. They came in on the ship a week ago. I’m surprised he hasn’t been here, he’s usually here more regular than this. Perhaps you could do him a favour and take them to him.”
Yes, and then he could cut me into fertiliser-shaped pieces for interfering with his personal affairs. “I think he’s likely to be here tomorrow. I’ll tell him you’ve got them for him.”
“
Thanks. Master Jaime’s one of my best customers. I wouldn’t want him to be inconvenienced, but he’s very strict about his letters not being sent to him at the temple. It’d be no trouble, I’ve told him often enough, but he always refuses.”
“
Ah.” I didn’t want to ask any questions, so I could honestly state I’d not been prying, but the man wasn’t the most discreet person I’d ever met, and as I explored his admittedly excellent collection of books, he followed me about, giving me frank opinions about each volume, and more than a little information about my co-worker. I learned that Jaime used the shop as a mailing address, both for sending and receiving, and that he as often received books as letters. Quite a number, Joa said, were addressed to ‘Doctor Jaime’ which was incorrect, he’d been told. “Maybe they just think he should be because he’s so clever,” he joked. I agreed noncommittally.