The Kalif cut him short. "Who were young in their turn. Yes. What else did you learn?"
"Her health is excellent. I already said that, didn't I? And her physical strength is exceptional. I have never personally examined so strong a woman."
He stopped, not meeting the Kalif's eyes, then went on. "As for the other matter-She might well make someone a very good wife." He stressed the someone just slightly. "But-Her hymen is not intact. Of course, that could be the result of an accident or self abuse; those things are not rare. And in the presence of such beauty, I doubt most men would object to its absence. But to-some men it would disqualify her; they couldn't be sure she was a virgin. Nor can she vouch for it herself, with her memory gone."
"Surely other means exist for learning the truth of it?" the Kalif said thoughtfully. As if the report had been unexpected.
"None, Your Reverence. Not short of her recovering her memory and declaring it under instrumentation."
The Kalif sat purse-mouthed. At length he grunted. "So the examination proved neither innocence nor otherwise. Well. There was no indication of violence?"
"None, Your Reverence."
"But that means little, I suppose."
"Not on the matter of virginity, Your Reverence."
The Kalif said nothing for several seconds, then grunted. "Well. Thank you for your information, Neftha. You will, of course, keep this to yourself."
"By all means, Your Reverence. I have made a chart, but recorded only matters relevant to her actual health."
"Good. And you do have my appreciation. Now I have things to do."
The physician got quickly to his feet. "Of course, Your Reverence."
The Kalif watched the door close behind him, then pressed a key on his commset. "Partiil, call the guest house. Tell them to bring the female prisoner to my office. I wish to question her again." Then he remembered his boyhood, and his sister's need to prepare before she went anywhere. "In one hour," he added.
He stood as she entered. She was dressed in yellow this time, but to his untrained eyes the costume seemed otherwise similar. Lady Leolani's work, he felt sure. He'd approved her request to let Tain share her apartment and servants, and allowed them to shop escorted. Tain had no doubt caused a stir, he thought, with her face, hair, eyes, skin. Her grace. Her long legs.
"Tain," he said, "please be seated."
She sat down as gracefully as before. He repeated her name, tasting the sound of it. "Tain. That's a lovely name. And you are a very lovely woman."
He saw the flicker of fear behind her eyes. It may take time to lose that, he thought, and spoke on. "In most respects a Kalif is not unlike other men, a mixture of good and bad. I like to think that I am more good than bad." He smiled slightly. "Hopefully quite a bit more.
"In some respects a Kalif has more freedoms than most men, but in other matters he has the same limits. Thus he may wish to marry someone, but she may refuse him." He raised his hands slightly, spreading them. "I would like to marry you, Tain. If you are willing."
He was surprised at how easily the words came.
Her answer was low. "Your Reverence, I hardly know you."
"True. Yet you are a grown woman, and I believe that living as the guest of the Lady Leolani will not remain satisfactory indefinitely. Despite your friendship. Sooner or later you will feel constrained to take a husband."
Her eyes told him nothing. "Well. The decision is yours, and there is no need to make it now. And in any event the wedding would have to wait a few weeks. Meanwhile, I commend myself to you. I am a man of good temper, reputedly not unattractive, and with considerable resources." He gestured. "I have a comfortable home, and seasonally the freedom to travel."
He paused then as a thought came to him. "Or is there some other man you'd like to marry? Do not fear to tell me if there is."
Tain shook her head. "There isn't. Not that I know of."
Her words echoed quietly in his mind. Not that you know of, he thought. Perhaps someone three hyperspace years away, or someone killed in battle. You must wonder sometimes.
"Well then, I'll allow myself to feel optimistic. Will you have dinner with me this evening? Among other things, I have an excellent chef."
"Yes, Your Reverence," she said quietly. Her voice showed little expression, but neither was there apathy nor resignation there. Guarded seemed the word. It occurred to him that considering her circumstances and all that had happened, she'd held up well. So. A strong person then, with strong character.
"Thank you, Tain. We'll eat at seven, you and I. Tell Lady Leolani that she is not to talk about it." This time his smile was bigger. "And tell her to trust me." He eyed her quizzically. "Do you feel all right about this?"
She nodded. "I do, Your Reverence."
He'd known what she'd answer, had asked only to build her assurance. "Good. But now I have work to do. The Diet will convene a week from Oneday, and I need to be ready for them."
He reached and keyed his commset as she stood up. "Partiil, Lady Tain will be leaving now."
When she'd left, it took him a minute or two to get his attention fully on his work again.
Fourteen
He had supper served on the small table he usually ate at alone. It put them closer together. His personal servant moved in and out unobtrusively and no more than necessary. The meal was not large-he made a point of eating modestly-but it was excellent.
He'd thought of having a musician there to play for them, then decided against it. With so little of her past available to her, it seemed to him she might have trouble making small talk. The presence of a third person, even a musician, could make it more difficult.
Instead he'd had a cube delivered, of beautiful or otherwise interesting places and events on Varatos. While they ate, the wall to one side took life, and seemingly depth. There were aerial views of the Great Falls of the Djosar in spring, the foot of the cataract seeming to pulse with explosions of foaming violence; a storm, with massive waves crashing against the rocks and broken cliffs off the coast of Otengwar; the Festival of The Prophet, with the streets of Ananporu brilliant with flowers and banners; a great golden rajwar with high, striped shoulders, prowling an imperial wildlife park, stalking and charging a wild bull, pouncing on it from behind, then losing its hold, to watch its would-be supper gallop off…
The Kalif did his own narrative, and had the pleasure of seeing her eyes bright with interest.
She said she liked books, and he told her he'd arrange for her to browse the library of the Sreegana, the compound which contained the palace and various associated buildings.
After they'd eaten, he found himself being questioned. "What was your home like when you were a child?" "Did you have sisters and brothers?" "What did you do for pleasure?" He told her about his father, a prelate who, when Coso was twelve, became Archprelate of Binoon. His older brother had been in line to succeed to the Prelacy; the young Coso had been slated for the military.
He told her too about Sergeant Major Chagoorka, a retired noncom of the Imperial Marines, who'd been his principal tutor, and his favorite person after his parents. After excusing himself, the Kalif brought from his study a beautiful dagger to show her. The sergeant major had crafted it for him as a going-away present, when his fifteen-year-old charge was preparing to leave for the Binoon Academy, to prepare for marine officers school.
She examined the dagger with care and admiration. Its carefully smithed, razor-sharp blade was engraved with an unfamiliar, decorative script, while the green jade of its hand-carved haft must have cost more than a sergeant could readily afford.