But none of this would take place while they were struggling simply to make ends meet.
"What are you going to do?" she asked. "I need to know if I'm going to act properly as a foil for your performance. You know, I am sorry to be asking you to perform like some kind of trained dog-and that is exactly what they will think of you. I'm not very comfortable seeing you in that role, and I wish I didn't have to do this."
"I know," Faro replied, and his smile turned feral. "I honor you for that, little mistress. Well, since they are expecting a trained dog, I think we should give them a trained wolf instead. It will give them a feeling of threat- that if you were not there to restrain me, I would tear them to pieces."
The unbidden thought occurred to her,As he would, if he had the chance . The smile alone said it all. Xylina was under no illusions; Faro hated the Mazonites for what they had done to him. He honored only her, for seeing him as an intelligent being, for treating him as one. And perhaps for being a friend. She sensed, beneath his words, as they spoke of many things in the hours between dusk and bedtime, that he had been as lonely as she in his own way. He was just too different from the other men to have taken pleasure in the gossip and harem-politics, in the trifles of dress and status in the household. His mind ranged as far as the stars; confining it to the narrow rooms of the harem was as wrong as clipping a falcon's wings and making an ornament of him. If he had been a woman, she had no doubt that he would have been Queen by now.
He did not fit; neither did she. Perhaps that was why they were friends as well as mistress and slave. She could not see a slave without seeing the man beneath the livery, the human being. And she was only one step above slavery herself, having endured poverty for so long. Indeed, most slaves were better off than she had been, in the last year before her woman-trial.
In this, she knew that she was following in her mother's footsteps, for her mother had been Marcus' friend as well as his owner, and had not been wealthy or even moderately secure.
"I shall recite some of Arimis' History of the Slave Revolt , unless you choose otherwise," he continued. "That will titillate them with my boldness. Then I shall lift some weights, until I have alarmed them. Then I shall complete the performance by lifting some large weight, with you perched atop it all."
She nodded. "What if I conjured the weight for you?" she asked, tilting her head to one side. "If there are to be performing creatures here, we might as well both perform." She hoped that this offer would ease the bitter feelings he must be experiencing, but to her surprise he saw something more in the idea.
"That is an excellent thought, little mistress," he exclaimed. "Think of all the powerful women who will be at this affair-and you will demonstrate your ability at conjuration before them all, in the guise of an entertainment! They will be impressed, and when they have time to think about it, they will also wonder just how good you truly are, and wonder why they have heard and seen nothing of you except for the arena-trial."
That gave her pause. "But what if one of them is this unknown enemy?" she ventured. "Would this not make her angrier, and inclined to make further attempts to destroy us?"
"We learned one thing in our training as gladiators," he told her, his eyes darkening with unpleasant memories. "The one who loses his temper loses the fight. You saw for yourself how that was true, for if I had not lost my temper, I think I might have won even against you." He paused. "It is my habit to review my experiences, and I think that if I had grabbed one of your rods from the air and hurled it instantly back at you, I might have scored. You must see that no other opponent ever has the chance to use your conjurations against you; you must be ready to abolish them the moment they leave your hands." He paused again, and she nodded, appreciating the advice. Then he continued. "If this enemy of yours is among these women, I think it would be a good thing to goad her into losing her temper, for it will make her rash and inclined to act before she plans. Thus, she will expose herself, and we can take steps to rid our path of her."
Xylina tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and looked up at him, thoughtfully. "Are you really sorry you did not win?" she asked quietly.
He took a deep breath, and his expression stilled for a moment. She knew she should not have asked; he had, after all, tacitly reassured her on that point. Yet reassurance seemed to be something she could never quite completely accept, so she had to verify it, and re-verify it.
"At the time-yes," he said, after a moment of silence. "But now-" He shook his head. "I cannot say. If it had been anyone but you, I think I would rather have died. No, I would have died. I would have kept attacking until she was forced to kill me. You-were so different, I did not know how to react. Often I still don't. When you leaped onto my back, naked, and I felt your breasts and thighs on my body, my will to fight faded, even before you conjured the wire at my neck." He gave her a crooked smile. "So now you know the great secret, little mistress."
So he had been aware of her body. She had not thought of that at the time. Her femininity had been a weapon! There was more, much more, unsaid between them. But she would not force him to say those things aloud.
"We should go back to the marketplace before the farm-slaves return to their mistresses," she said instead. "Then we can get something done about new seedlings before we need to prepare for this exhibition. Should I conjure you a costume, do you think?"
"Yes to both," he replied, going to hold open the door to the house for her. "And we should discuss the costume on the way to the marketplace."
The evening was an unqualified success, at least insofar as Xylina was concerned. Faro had given a performance that pleased both of them, and had caused a sensation for their hostess, who obviously had not expected that the slave would be nearly so erudite. The guests had gasped at the demonstration of weight-lifting, which had ended with Faro hoisting an incredible pile of "stone" pieces, with Xylina enthroned atop them in a slab-sided "chair" of her own conjuration. Perhaps they suspected that Xylina had conjured a very light form of stone; it didn't matter. The women had expressed their enjoyment to the wealthy merchant at being entertained in such a surprising way. And the hostess had, in her turn, expressed her pleasure in the form of an addition to the agreed-upon fee.
The entertainment had been held in a spacious and luxurious room just off an inner garden of the villa. The perfumes of night-blossoming flowers mingled with the subtle odors of incense and the exotic fruits and wines that the merchant served her guests. The guests half-reclined on scarlet upholstered couches, and were served by discreet slaves, who saw to it that the cups remained full and the bowls of fruit at their sides remained cool and attractive. Perfumed lanterns lit the room, giving them plenty of light to perform by, yet preserving a warm intimacy. There were about a dozen guests, all of them dressed in rich fabrics and heavy gold jewelry. Some of it might have been conjured, but Xylina doubted it. She didn't recognize any of them, but she hadn't really expected to-the women who had attended her mother's entertainments were not generally found among the merchants, but among the artists and warriors.
Faro had somehow managed to keep the proper balance between "dangerous" and "under control." Xylina had no idea how he had managed, for she had seen the signs of anger on him many times during the evening. But then, she had trod a fine line herself as she was drawn into the conversation. She had tried to convey the impression that she was much more aware of city gossip and the current tales among the wealthy Mazonites than she actually was. Her conjurations had at least impressed many of the merchants and wealthy women at the party; she had caught more than one of them regarding her with an appraising look when they thought her attention was elsewhere.