Shadow and Betrayal

it’s wearing sometimes.’
    ‘Do you resent it?’ Idaan asked, and something in her voice had changed. Cehmai opened his eyes. Idaan was looking past him. Her expression was unfathomable.
    ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said.
    ‘You have to carry this thing all your life. Do you ever wish that you hadn’t been called to do it?’
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not really. It’s work, but it’s work that I like. And I get to meet the most interesting women.’
    Her gaze cooled, flickered over him, and then away.
    ‘Lucky to be you,’ she said as she sat up. He watched her as she pulled her robes from the puddle of cloth on the floor. Cehmai sat up. ‘I have meetings in the morning. I’ll need to be in my own rooms to be ready anyway. I might as well go now.’
    ‘I might say fewer things that angered you if you talked to me,’ Cehmai said, gently.
    Idaan’s head snapped around to him like a hunting cat’s, but then her expression softened to chagrin, and she took an apologetic pose.
    ‘I’m overtired,’ she said. ‘There are things that I’m carrying, and I don’t do it as gracefully as you. I don’t mean to take them out on you.’
    ‘Why do you do this, Idaan-kya? Why do you come here? I don’t think it’s that you love me.’
    ‘Do you want me to stop?’
    ‘No,’ Cehmai said. ‘I don’t. But if you choose to, that will be fine as well.’
    ‘That’s flattering,’ she said, sarcasm thick in her voice.
    ‘Are you doing this to be flattered?’
    He was awake again now. He could see something in her expression - pain, anger, something else. She didn’t answer him now, only knelt by the bed and felt beneath it for her boots. He put his hand on her arm and drew her up. He could sense that she was close to speaking, that the words were already there, just below the surface.
    ‘I don’t mind only being your bed mate,’ he said. ‘I’ve known from the start that Adrah is the man you plan to be with, and that I couldn’t be that for you even if you wanted it. I assume that’s part of why you’ve chosen me. But I am fond of you, and I would like to be your friend.’
    ‘You’d be my friend?’ she said. ‘That’s nice to hear. You’ve bedded me and now you’ll condescend to be a friend?’
    ‘I think it’s more accurate to say you bedded me,’ Cehmai said. ‘And it seems to me that people do what we’ve done quite often without caring about the other person. Or even while wishing them ill. I’ll grant that we haven’t followed the usual order - I understand people usually know each other first and then fall into bed afterwards - but in a way that means you should take me more seriously.’
    She pulled back and took a pose of query.
    ‘You know I’m not just saying it to get your robes open,’ he said. ‘When I say I want to be someone you can speak with, it’s truth. I’ve nothing to gain by it but the thing itself.’
    She sighed and sat on the bed. The light of the single candle painted her in shades of orange.
    ‘Do you love me, Cehmai-kya?’ she asked.
    Cehmai took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. He had reached the gate. Her thoughts, her fears. Everything that had driven this girl into his bed was waiting to be loosed. All he would have to do was tell one, simple, banal lie. A lie thousands of men had told for less reason. He was badly tempted.
    ‘Idaan-kya,’ he said, ‘I don’t know you.’
    To his surprise, she smiled. She pulled on her boots, not bothering to lace the bindings, leaned over and kissed him again. Her hand caressed his cheeks.
    ‘Lucky to be you,’ she said softly.
    Neither spoke as they walked down the corridor to the main rooms. The shutters were closed against the night, and the air felt stuffy and thick. He walked with her to the door, then through it, and sat on the steps, watching her vanish among the trees. The crickets still sang. The moon still hung overhead, bathing the night in blue. He heard the high squeak of bats as they skimmed the ponds and pools, the flutter of an owl’s wings.
    ‘You should be sleeping,’ the low, gravel voice said from behind him.
    ‘Yes, I imagine so.’
    ‘First light, there’s a meeting with the stone potters.’
    ‘Yes, there is.’
    Stone-Made-Soft stepped forward and lowered itself to sit on the step beside him. The familiar bulk of its body rose and fell in a sigh that could only be a comment.
    ‘She’s up to something,’ Cehmai said.
    ‘She might only find herself