Kushiel's Chosen

look at me and grew still with anger. "Put that down."

FIFTY-TWO
    1 here are things we all hold dear; privacies that brook no transgression. I did not need to be told that, for Kazan, this was one such. 'Twas in his face and in his voice, a cold rage more terrible than his shouting. I replaced the toy quietly, closing the drawer.
    "I am sorry," I said simply, meeting his eyes. "I meant no harm."
    He drew a deep breath and released it in harsh words. "You should not be here, you! I told Marjopí to take care of you! You listen to her, eh, and heed!"
    One knows, with patrons, what path their violence will take, and why. And I knew, once he shouted, that the true source of his anger lay far from me. My actions had but kindled it.
    "She showed me a room, and left me. Forgive me, but I am unaccustomed to idleness." I added humbly, "I wanted only to know who you are, my lord."
    "I will tell you, I, what you need to know, and you will enter this room at my command, eh? You see too much." Gritting his teeth, he caught me by the arm and pulled me after him, out of the room. "If you have a tedium, you speak to Marjopí, and she will give you woman's work to do, eh, to weave or spin, or make the embroidery!" He ushered me to the large inner salon, where Hellene-style couches mixed with rigidly upright Caerdicci chairs. Marjopí had left off her weaving, and hovered in the hall behind us. Kazan still had my arm in his grip and stood close, glaring at me. I could feel my pulse beating beneath the tight grasp of his fingers and feel the heat of his body, mingled with a strange, acrid tang.
    Ah, Kushiel, I thought, have mercy on your chosen! Is it not enough that I suffer this? Must I bear humiliation as well? What showed on my face, I cannot say, but Kazan saw somewhat; his grip loosened, and his eyes reflected a measure of puzzlement and awe.
    "I cannot do these things," I said aloud. "I was taught other skills."
    "Whore's work," he said contemptuously, but conviction was not in it.
    "Naamah's work, yes," I replied. "But the Queen employs me as a translator. It is the study of language and politics in which I have been engaged, and not spinning and weaving. My lord, if you order me confined to women's quarters, then so be it; yet I thought you welcomed me as your guest, and not your prisoner."
    He tucked his chin into his chest and fingered his mustaches, thinking. "We honor... hostages ... in Illyria," he said slowly. "They are treated as their rank calls, eh, unless those who pay ransom break faith. You are not a prisoner, you. I come to say, you will eat with me tonight, and I will hear your words. But you must not go where it is not permitted, eh?"
    "Yes, my lord. Where, then, am I forbidden to go?"
    A look of disgust crossed his face. "Already, you see too much; go where you like, you. I will set you a guide." With that, he stalked from the room muttering; I heard Glaukos' name, and the word for "rest," which I had heard often enough to recognize. I waited under the dourly watchful eye of Marjopí until Kazan returned with a young man in tow. "Lukin, he will show you what you wish," he said shortly, exiting again. Marjopí threw up her hands and returned to her weaving.
    Thus did I acquire an escort on Dobrek, a good-natured youth of no more than sixteen. He had black hair which he wore in a topknot in emulation of Kazan Atrabiades, and a grin that stretched ear to ear at his assignment; here was one who had decided I was no Vila bent on stealing his heart-or at least he reckoned it worth the risk. Although we shared no common tongue, we had youth in common, and Lukin was open and cheerful, eager to communicate where Zilje and her sister had turned shy or reticent. For everything we saw, everything I touched, I made him tell me the word in Illyrian. To this day, there are plants I can name only in that tongue, and fish and birds, too.
    It was Lukin who showed me the stable, pointing with pride to Kazan's two horses. I watched his eyes shine with delight as a battle-scarred old gelding nibbled from his palm, and was reminded with a pang of Hyacinthe. Not as I had left him, brave and lonely, but as he had been at Lukin's age, merry and daring with a knack for horses.
    Beyond the stables, a group of men were gathered around a stone furnace, bare-chested and sweating in the late-morning sun. I pointed inquiringly, and Lukin led me over to see. There was a great bustle, and Kazan was supervising the operation, ordering the fire