He sat on the edge of the platform to remove his boots-and stopped with one off and one on, distracted by what he was seeing. This was a treasure house. He had known from childhood visits that the ducal palace was luxurious, but he had never been in this hall. There was enough lapis lazuli and gold leaf in the wall frescoes alone to finance a major war. The candelabra were studded with jewels. At first glance the chamber had seemed vast and empty, but he started to count the chairs, tables, and chests, and gave up after a score. No doubt every one was a masterpiece. The floor was covered with rugs of the finest alpaca wool, woven in brilliant colors, and the platform was heaped with them. Then there were the ceramics and statuary and tapestries. How had Stralg been kept from looting this hoard? Marno’s brothers would be coming around with wagons to collect compensation for the hardship his revolution had caused them.
Brothers? He had not seen them in sixteen years. They were just one of sixty-sixty headaches that would afflict him in the near future. He sighed, knowing that he was not going to sleep. Too many problems were building nests in his brain. He had met this condition before, when exhaustion passed beyond sleep, and knew of only one cure for it, short of waiting for physical collapse. What he needed, ironically, was a woman. Giunietta, especially, would know exactly what he needed and wanted.
“Holy Ucr!”
He jumped and twisted around. His wife was there, closing a door he had overlooked. Problem Number One, she stared around with disbelief, then mockingly raised a hand to shade her eyes, as if peering across a landscape.
“Is that you over there, husband?”
He forced himself to seem pleased. “It is. Shall I send a chariot for you?”
She headed in his direction. “Orlad accused me of being a slut. For selling my body for the crown, I suppose. I had no idea I had made such a good bargain.”
“You should see the silver pots in the servants’ latrines.”
She wore a white wrap, filmy and clinging. Her hair hung loose in black ringlets that fell to a handbreadth below the nipples that so clearly raised the fine cloth. He watched her stroll across the rugs toward him, fascinated in spite of his exhaustion. He had wanted a woman and yet he must not accept what the gods sent.
Her grin seemed both childlike and genuine. “I am informed that a wife is expected to sleep in the same room as her husband. This is big enough for both of us, is it not?”
“I am afraid my snores will echo and waken me,” he said, “but it will do until we find a better. But, Fabia, we agreed that ours would be only a political match.”
She sat on the edge of the platform, not close, but within reach if he changed his mind. “A pretend marriage, you mean?”
“You know what I mean. We discussed it. If I get a woman with child I am as good as murdering her. I sought out a Healer I know and trust, and she confirmed that it is a Werist problem, so holy Sinura will not help. To the world I am your husband, and I expect you to keep up the pretense. In practice, you will have to find a discreet young man to father Piero’s grandchildren. I won’t care or ask who he is.” He smiled as well as he could without uncovering his fangs. “Preferably one man at a time, but even that is your business as long as you create no scandal.”
Her face gave away nothing. “While you install Witness Giunietta as palace seer?”
He laughed trying to imagine what Giunietta would say to the invitation. “Now, there would be scandal! I like and admire Giunietta very much, but she is blatantly promiscuous. She would be marching the palace guard through her chamber in no time. A Witness is a possible playmate for me, because she knows when it is safe, or a Nymph, because they do not conceive. But at the moment, wife, I have far more urgent problems, of which the most urgent is sleep. If you will forgive me?”
She nodded. “It has been quite a day. Whatever your wishes, my lord, your handmaiden will most humbly agree.” She fingered the rugs as if marveling at their softness. “There is certainly enough space for us to sleep here without disturbing each other, isn’t there? Perhaps in the morning-” She looked around, frowning. “I asked Dantio to scan these chambers to make sure no one was hiding anywhere, and he said they were safe. I also asked a steward for some wine. I think that must be it over there, beside that door. Marno, my lord, it has been a heavy day for both of us, but I have two brief requests. I want to drink a pledge to our lifelong partnership, and I want one real kiss from you.”
“Real kiss?”
“I told you two days ago that I was a virgin and nothing has changed since then, but I have spied on enough hanky-panky on riverbanks to be certain that you can manage a better kiss than the one you gave me tonight in the hall. As soon as you have attended to that, sleep by all means. If you need me I will be here. If you don’t, I shall not sulk, I promise.” She rose and held out a hand. “Come and drink a pledge.”
He replaced the boot he had shed and waded across the rugs with her. Any woman who was prepared to consider intimacy with an animal like him was either incredibly brave or insanely greedy for power.
She said, “Giunietta is an unusual woman.”
“She is a free thinker.”
“Is that a polite version of what my brother called me?”
Obviously that remark had hurt her. “In Celebre many marriages are arranged just to seal commercial or political unions.”
“And in Skjar also.”
“So? If you are a trollop for marrying a title, then what am I for marrying all this loot? As I see our arrangement, your family needed a man to run the family business, Celebre. Dantio refused and Orlad lacks experience. I saw myself being out of work very shortly. We are an excellent match.”
She laughed and slid an arm around him. “I never doubted the quantity of husband I am acquiring. I am just beginning to appreciate the quality as well.”
“The ugliest bridegroom in the history of the city.”
“I was put off when I first saw you,” she admitted. “But looks matter less than honor and courage and kindness. Muscles are cute, and you qualify in that department. Also, in Vigaelia, the word ‘horny’ means, er-”
“It means the same here, too. And it is irrelevant. Please do not keep mentioning the matter.”
“I am sorry. That was inconsiderate of me. Consideration is the most important thing in a marriage, isn’t it?”
He had never had time to learn to understand women. She was barely more than a child and yet she baffled him.
“Respect first, I think,” he said. “Consideration certainly second. Understanding that nobody is perfect and everyone has faults. Patience. Compromise. If we can bring all those to our marriage, it should prosper.”
“That’s lovely! Let that be our pledge.”
They had reached the table where six wine jugs stood, swathed in damp cloths. He unwrapped a couple and chose one.
“A star and two swords, see?” he said. “Means this is from the hills above Quiloni, a fine wine, not tart, but not too sweet.” He broke the seal.
“These goblets!” Fabia said, using both hands to lift one. “These are… incredible!”
He lifted the other to inspect it. Each stood half a yard high, depicting a youth and a maiden supporting the cup itself in their raised arms. “They are called lover cups, made of rock crystal from the mines of Ritorni. This set was undoubtedly carved by Pecculli of Samercci, the greatest master of this form. My parents had half of a pair, much smaller, which they treasured as one of the finest pieces in their collection. Yours is the man’s, though. This is the woman’s.”
She set hers down and took the other from him to inspect. “I was told you once had ambitions to be an artist.”
“Only a connoisseur. I have no talent of my own.”
“How can you tell which cup is which?”
He chuckled as he poured the wine. “The boy and girl touch in only one place, always. In the woman’s the two are kissing, see? In the man’s their contact is lower and more intimate, although the portrayal is discreet. It is almost impossible to place two bodies in such postures and still make them seem graceful, as these are. This pair would buy twice sixty acres of prime farmland, perhaps more. And you haven’t even mentioned the mosaic table. That is a genuine Ragottilo, worth much more than the goblets.” He laid down the flagon. “Now, will you offer first?”