He had spoken, in casual passing, of the falling out between Shardan Lim and Hanut Orr, something trivial and soon to mend, of course. But moments were strained of late, and neither ally seemed eager to speak to Gorlas about any of it. Hanut Orr had, however, said some strange things, offhand, to Gorlas in the few private conversations they’d had — curious, suggestive things, but no matter. It was clear that something had wounded Hanut Orr’s vaunted ego, and that was ever the danger with possessing such an ego — its constant need to be fed, lest it deflate to the prods of sharp reality.
Sharden Lim’s mood, too, had taken a sudden downward turn. One day veri shy;tably exalted, the next dour and short-tempered.
Worse than adolescents, those two. You’d think there was a woman involved. .
Challice had affected little interest, finding, to her own surprise, that she was rather good at dissembling, at maintaining the necessary pretensions. The Mistress of the House, the pearlescent prize of the Master, ever smooth to the touch, as delicate as a porcelain statue. Indifferent to the outside world and all its decrepit, smudged details. This was the privilege of relative wealth, after all, encouraging the natural inclination to manufacture a comforting cocoon. Keeping out the common indelicacies, the mundane miseries, all those raw necessities, needs, wants, all those crude stresses that so strained the lives of normal folk.
Only to discover, in gradual increments of growing horror, that the world within was little different; that all those grotesque foibles of humanity could not be evaded — they just reared up shinier to the eye, like polished baubles, but no less cheap, no less sordid.
In her silence, Challice thought of the gifts of privilege, and oh wasn’t she privileged indeed? A rich husband getting richer, one lover among his closest allies (and that was a snare she might use again, if the need arose), and now another — one Gor shy;las knew virtually nothing about. At least, she didn’t think he did.
Sudden rapid flutter of her heart.
Gorlas might panic. He might, in truth, become murderous.
‘Be careful now, Cro- Cutter. What we have begun is very dangerous.’
He said nothing in reply, and after a moment she pushed herself off him, and rose to stand beside the narrow bed. ‘He would kill you,’ she continued, looking down on him, seeing once again how the years had hardened his body, sculpted muscles bearing the scars of past battles. His eyes, fixed on her own, regarded her with thoughts and feelings veiled, unknowable.
‘He’s a duellist, isn’t he?’
She nodded. ‘One of the best in the city.’
‘Duels,’ he said, ‘don’t frighten me.’
‘That would be a mistake, Cutter. In any case, given your. . station, it’s doubtful he’d bother with anything so formal. More like a half-dozen thugs hired to get rid of you. Or even an assassin.’
‘So,’ he asked, ‘what should I do about it?’
She hesitated, and then turned away to find her clothes. ‘I don’t know. I was but warning you, my love.’
‘I would imagine you’d be even more at risk.’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. Although,’ she added, ‘a jealous man is an unpredictable man.’ Turning, she studied him once more. ‘Are you jealous, Cutter?’
‘Of Gorlas Vidikas?’ The question seemed to surprise him and she could see him thinking about it. ‘Title and wealth, yes, that would be nice. Being born into something doesn’t mean it’s deserved, of course, so maybe he hasn’t earned all his privileges, but then, maybe he has — you’d know more of that than I would.’
‘That’s not what I meant. When he takes me, when he makes love to me.’
‘Oh. Does he?’
‘Occasionally.’
‘Make love? Or just make use of you?’
‘That is a rather rude question.’
Years ago, he would have leapt to his feet, apologies tumbling from him in a rush. Now, he remained on the bed, observing her with those calm eyes. Challice felt a shiver of something in her, and thought it might be fear. She had assumed a certain. . control. Over all of this. Over him. And now she wondered. ‘What,’ he now asked, ‘do you want from me, Challice? Years and years of this? Meeting in dusty, abandoned bedrooms. Something you can own that Gorlas does not? It’s not as if you’ll ever leave him, is it?’
‘You once invited me to run away with you.’
‘If I did,’ he said, ‘you clearly said no. What has changed?’
‘I have.’
His gaze sharpened on her. ‘So now. . you would? Leave it all behind? The estate, the wealth?’ He waved languidly at the room around them. ‘For a life of this? Challice, understand: the world of most people is a small world. It has more limitations that you might think-’
