Elvenborn

most cravings.

It even had windows gazing out on the world; from the look of things, their suite was in a tower, for the window-seat where Rennati lounged was at some height above a wide, green lawn. There were trees in the far distance, although with twilight darkening the sky it was hard to distinguish anything but a vague, bluish blur at the end of the lawn. This was a novelty; Rennati had never been in a harem that had a view of the world she had last seen as a young child, and she spent as much time as possible in the windows, watching the rest of Lord Kyrtian's slaves walking from here to there with purpose in their steps, or even working on that plushy grass.

Anything they might possibly have wanted had been sup­plied to them. There were the usual lutes and harps to play on, if they desired, or they could leave the instruments to play by themselves with a touch of the hand on a little silver stud in the neck. If they chose the latter, the instruments somehow also supplied an accompaniment of drums, bells, and flutes. There

were materials for embroidery and beadwork, scents, cosmetics of every sort, hair-dressing instruments, and even books, though Rennati was the only one of the three of them who could read with any proficiency. The bathroom was small, but one didn't necessarily need a bath one could swim in, and the food invariably pleasant, if not sumptuous. Still, one didn't par­ticularly want a feast presented to one every day in a harem; it was altogether too easy to overeat, and that would be a disaster for the figure.

The door-chime sent the other two into a flutter, and Rennati rose from the window seat to join them as they flew into the reception-chamber together.

Lord Kyndreth, tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome enough for any two humans, strode unaccompanied into the room. All three of them dropped to the floor in a profoundly deep curtsy the moment his foot crossed the threshold. He laughed at Kara's eager face as she looked up at him.

'Well, last night you were a lily, so what are you tonight, hmm?' he teased. 'A black narcissus, perhaps?'

'I am whatever your lordship pleases to call me,' Kara replied, rising first, with an expression of adoration.

She probably didn't feel adoration, but she was adept at as­suming any expression she thought might be met with pleasure.

'As it should be,' he responded, gesturing to Kara and Gi-anna, and gathering each into an arm. 'Come now, last night I had but a brief introduction to flame-hair's dancing, and I am eager to see more.'

He took a seat on a couch piled high with silk and velvet pillows, still with a girl on either side to minister to him. Ren­nati made the rounds of the room, touching each of the wait­ing instruments in turn, then set the time for the dance by clapping her hands for a measure. The instruments, in concert, struck up a lively piece; she let it play through for four mea­sures before leaping out into the room and setting her flying feet into motion.

This, if anything, was what she lived for. She would rather have died than not dance. Her first owner, a Lord of discrimi­nating tastes (so he styled himself) and limited means, had

grown bored with her passion, and had decided to dispose of her in a private sale to finance the purchase of a new girl to train.

'There's nothing at all wrong with her,' he'd told Lady Tri-ana, 'It's just that she's always dancing. I'd really like to find a new girl who has talents that are a little more restful. One doesn't always want prancing about; it's very fatiguing to watch after a while.'

For Lord Kyndreth, however, Rennati's passion apparently had the virtue of novelty, even if he was so busy with Kara and Gianna that he paid scant attention to the nuances of Rennati's performance. And long before she was weary, he was fully in­volved with them. Ornaments had been removed and set care­fully aside, along with a few bits of clothing, and when Rennati signaled the instruments to play quietly to themselves and stole out of the room, none of the three even noticed. That was fair enough; she'd been Lord Kyndreth's first last night, which had left Kara out. Kara no doubt wanted a chance for a better pres­ent tonight.

Rennati stole up the stairs to the uppermost story of the tower where their bedrooms were—not so much bedrooms, as curtained-off alcoves of a room meant never to be seen by the eyes of a Lord. Here they could practice with cosmetics, sometimes to hilarious effect; here they kept the litter of their previous lives, personal belongings too shabby for a Lord to see. Kara had a battered old doll, much loved and worn, and every bit of 'jewelry' she ever owned, going right back to a string of pierced sea-shells some little boy-child had once given her, up to her own efforts with needle and beads. There were a dozen works-in-progress on a table, along with a doll being costumed with beads and bits. Gianna had managed to keep hold of all of her attempts at artwork and kept her sup­plies and easel up here. She was making an attempt at a still-life of Kara's work-table, but Kara kept moving things around, much to her frustration.

Rennati had books—not the pretty leather-bound volumes of poetry downstairs, but dirty old things with torn covers or no covers at all on every subject under the sun, rescued from the

Lord's trash-heaps. And, of course, she had Lady Triana's teleson-ring.

With a few hesitant words, she activated it.

It was too small to allow a picture; it sent and received voices only. As she had been told to expect, the first voice was unfa­miliar.

'Who calls?' the voice asked.

'Rennati,' she replied breathlessly, a little astonished and a lit­tle fearful to be holding a thing of such great magic in her hand.

'Ah—wait one moment. Lady Triana will wish to speak with you herself.'

The ring, a beryl like the one in her collar, fell silent. Rennati waited patiently; so long as no one came up here to interrupt her, she would wait for as long as she was told to. Elvenlords were busy, and it was not reasonable to expect one to drop whatever she was doing simply to come and hear what a mere concubine had to say.

Finally, 'Speak,' said an imperious female voice from the ring.

'I have been here since your agent sent me to Lady Lydiell,' Rennati said instantly. 'I am with two other concubines, in a tower, in a small harem. I can see outside from the windows, but I have not yet been allowed to venture past the door. Lord Kyrtian has been here once only. He is entertaining Lyon Lord Kyndreth, who was here last night and is here now. Lord Kyn-dreth is going to become Lord Kyrtian's patron. He told Kara tonight that Lord Kyrtian has pleased him and that we must not expect to see very much of our master for some time, since he is going to go away to take charge of an army.'

There was an odd laugh. 'Well, that rather puts a kink in my plans; if he won't be there, you won't be able to learn much from him. On the other hand, if you do manage to get out, you can see a great deal more when the lord himself is away. And this other news—more than interesting. I take it that this is all you have for me for now?'

Rennati nodded, forgetting for a moment that she could not be seen, then hastily said, 'I am sorry, but that is indeed all I have learned.'

'It is not a great deal, but the quality is good, and I am pleased. Notify me the moment you learn anything more. You may deactivate the ring now.'

Obediently, Rennati passed her hand over the ring, shutting out the light from the room for a moment, which turned it into an ordinary beryl again. Then she placed the ring in the darkest comer of her jewel-box, and hurried back downstairs.

After all, it was not too late to earn another generous present from Lord Kyndreth—and more importantly, he might be in­clined to talk afterwards. Elvenlord or human, if they didn't sleep, they were all often inclined to talk— afterwards.

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