She shook her head. 'There.was no point. It has to be taken fresh or it doesn't work.'
'I shall buy some here then.' r 'You'll be lucky. It doesn't grow here, Legata.'
'It doesn't? Then what do women use?'
'A drink prepared from a root extract. But it doesn't work quite the same way as xeta. You can't just take one dose whenever necessary; you have to take it every day, and it doesn't work well until you've been using it some time. It's called gameez.'›; 'Damn.'
'What have you been up to?' Aemid looked worried.
'Never mind. Just a passing fancy. I'll get some gameez.'
'You don't normally let your loins do your thinking, Legata.'
Abashed, I said, 'No, I don't suppose I do. He just took me by surprise, that's all, and his – his technique was very good.' So good I couldn't put him out of my mind. Goddess, I thought, how can I have lost myself so easily, lost who I am, in this man's arms? Am I no better than those silly highborn matrons back in Tyr, giggling over legionnaire officers riding past on their gorclaks?
I'd had time to think about what had happened by then. Surely something had enhanced normal desire -
I flushed just thinking about my lack of restraint – but it hadn't been a drug. It had been something to do with the lump in the middle of my palm. Something to do with being Magor, whatever that was. I wanted to be angry with Temellin, furious he had taken advantage of my inability to resist the stimulus. Instead, I just remembered how good it had been.
After I left Aemid, I had to deal with an irate Legate of the legionnaires, outraged that one of his men had apparently been killed by a slave of mine. I thought of telling him I had done it myself while on Brotherhood business, but decided the fewer people who knew about that, the better. Instead, I told him, in freezing tones, that I had no such young slave girl, which a routine inquiry in the slave quarters would have confirmed, and how dare he accuse my household without making such a logical inquiry first? I then told him what I thought of his legionnaires and his discipline, making it clear I had heard about the incident with the gorclak race the day before, and that I'd also heard it said the slave girl was only defending herself against rape. By the time I'd finished, the officer was not only staggered by the extent and rapidity of Brotherhood intelligence, he was terrified that I was going to report him to his superiors for failure to maintain disciplined troops. He left apologising and humbled.
That night I tossed on my divan with the smell of another man still in my nostrils and his soft laugh in my ears. And I was honest enough to admit the reason I was thinking of not having the Mirager arrested the following day was that I was none too sure it would be possible to capture him without involving one of his underlings, a Kardi called Temellin.
He waylaid me before I reached the well, grinning. He took the ewer from me, as well as the small bag of clothing I had brought along – but he was looking at the other item I carried. The sword, well wrapped to disguise its shape, was tucked under my arm. He touched it reverently, and the smile he gave was as joyful as a child's laughter. 'That's it!' he said, almost as if he were afraid to believe it. And then, awed, 'You just walked out of the Governor's residence with it under your arm?'
I nodded. 'Who was there to question me? The Legata went out herself this morning. Anyone else seeing me leave the villa would have assumed I was on her business. And believe me, no one would question her orders.' The evasions slipped off my tongue as easily as water rolls from a gorclak's hide. I had to be careful with my wording; this man had a lump on his palm. What if he could read lies the way I could? Temellin would know I hid my emotions from him, of course, but then he did that to me too. I had to assume that was normal behaviour for one of the Magor. For one of us. Goddess but that
CHAPTER ELEVEN
expression stuck in my craw, as unwelcome as a fishbone.
'You didn't have any problems getting it?'
'None. She didn't think any of the slaves could lift it, let alone steal it!'
He gave back the ewer and took the sword from me instead, his hands caressing the hide covering, but he didn't unwrap it. Tears glistened and his fingers shook.
Tears? What in all of hellish Acheron was it about this sword that was so damned special?
'I was worried about you,' he said. He was trying to change the subject, to give himself time to regain control of himself. I thought he was acting more as if he'd just had a reprieve from death, than a man who had just retrieved a weapon for his ruler; I could sense relief so deep, nothing less seemed to make sense. Maybe that's it, I thought. Maybe this Mirager was going to kill him if he didn't find it. Maybe it was Temellin's fault it was lost in the first place. He'd told me the day before that I'd saved his life, but I hadn't taken him seriously. Now, I wondered.
I said, 'I've looked after myself for quite a while.' I had to curb the desire to reach out and touch him, I had to hide the way I was ridiculously stirred by his smile, by his hair curling this way and that over his ears…
'So I noticed. You did kill that man yesterday, you know.'
'Did I? Are you sure? I mean – I guess I hit him really hard, then.' My eyes widened and I gave a slight shiver. It was meant for Temellin's benefit, but suddenly it seemed genuine; I had gone straight from a killing to this man's pallet.
'Don't think about it. Here, let's be on our way' He took my arm and guided me down a narrow laneway I hadn't used before.
'Temel, I'm scared. I know so little about you, or about what I am -' My voice wavered. I could be quite a good actress when I put my mind to it. It was all true anyway; I was scared, but I was also exhilarated. I was a compeer on the hunt…
'What do you want to know?'
'Tell me about the Mirager. And about me – us. What are we?'
'We are Magor. And the Mirager is the, well, monarch, for want of a better word. The ruler of Kardiastan by right of his bloodline and his Magor rank. There is no need to fear him; he's very happy with you.'
'How can that be? Temel, I am from Tyrans. I don't remember any other kind of life. I am so – so ignorant! And that was true too. Rathrox had not mentioned the word Magor to me. No one had, until Aemid used the term on the ship.
'Turn right here; down the steps.' There were two legionnaires coming up towards us, and he was silent until we had passed them. Then he said, 'Someone taught you the Kardi tongue.'
'A fellow slave. But she said nothing of what I am. She was afraid General Gayed would find out, I suppose.'
'You are returning the Mirager's sword; believe me, he is delighted with you.' He was laughing at me, and I laughed with him and slipped my hand into his. Acting… or was I? In truth, I felt as though I was fifteen again and all those years of being a Compeer Brother had never been. The woman who had killed and maimed and plotted and connived on her way to the top? She didn't exist, not then. That woman would never have felt this way, so swayed by desire, by a sense of light-hearted self-discovery. I strove to remember what I was supposed to be doing.
An occasional backward mental glance told me Brand still followed; I hoped he had a better idea of where we were than I did. The lanes we followed twisted and turned and divided confusingly.
The house we finally entered was a simple adobe place of two storeys with a number of small rooms. 'This is one of our safe houses,' he said, 'and it has access to the escapeway, the route for freed slaves. Here you will meet some of the other Magor.'
I cast around and felt their presence: five people, two women and three men. All their emotions as unreadable as Temellin's – or my own. 'One of them is the Mirager?'
'He is here.'
'Temel, how many Magor are there?'
He knew I wasn't asking about the group in the room at the top of the stairs, and his face darkened subtly. 'Adults of all ranks? Not even five hundred.'