“Yes, sir.”
He was almost at the door before he stopped and half-turned. “Rhennthyl?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Being a lure does not mean one is defenseless. Nor does it preclude action. Just make certain that such action is in your best interests and those of the Collegium.” With that, he smiled and left the studio.
I ended up painting for almost another glass, leaving just enough time to clean up and walk to the dining hall. With good fortune, I’d be able to finish the portrait in one or, at the most, two more sessions. It was a good work-perhaps not my very best, but better than that of many masters.
After lunch with Menyard, I stepped out into the foyer and walked to the main entrance. I glanced up at the plaques . . . and froze. Another name had been added: Claustyn, Maitre D’Aspect, 727-755 A.L.
Had he been the one to remove the old High Priest of Caenen . . . or had he just been killed as part of the operation?
Menyard stopped. “You didn’t know?”
“No. I don’t usually come this way, and I’m never here for lunch, except on Samedi and Solayi.”
We just stood there for a moment. I couldn’t say that Claustyn had been a close friend, but he’d been warm and welcoming when I’d first become a third and changed quarters, after the confrontation with Johanyr. He’d introduced me to other thirds with grace at a time when I’d needed and appreciated that kindness. It made me think. Had I been that way? No . . . but there hadn’t been any new thirds in the last few months, not near my quarters.
Still . . . that was something I needed to remember.
Menyard and I left the dining hall silently, and I walked along the west side of the quadrangle back to my quarters.
For a time, I just thought. Then I decided to go to the library to see what there might be on High Holder Ryel. Lures could learn, I supposed.
Once I reached the library and began to search the stacks, I began to realize how little written information there was. Oh, there was a listing of all the High Holder houses, but it was a century out of date. There was also a book on the limits of High Holder low justice, but after skimming that, I realized that it was just a simplification of what Master Jhulian had pounded into me-or forced me into pounding into myself. In the end, I spent almost two glasses learning that I wasn’t going to find that information in a book.
After that, I returned to my quarters, read a bit more of
I took the Bridge of Desires and hailed a hack there-it couldn’t hurt to vary which bridges I used. Then, after we reached NordEste Design, I paid him to wait while I went inside to get Seliora. I supposed that he could have left, but I had the feeling that no hacker really wanted to stiff an imager.
The twins were the ones who opened the door, and this time it was Hestya who yelled up the stairs. “He’s here, Aunt Seliora!”
Hanahra just grinned.
“How was your birthday?”
“Good.” They both smiled shyly, looking away, then followed me up the stairs.
I only waited a moment, after the twins hurried away, before Seliora stepped through the archway from the staircase, wearing another dress I had never seen, this one with a black skirt emphasized by narrow panels of a brilliant but dark green silk. The bodice was also black, but the sleeves were of a filmy silk that matched the panels in the skirt, and her scarf was silver, trimmed in the same green. She also wore a jadeite pendant on a silver rope necklace with matching earrings.
“You look stunning!” And she did, more than stunning, in fact.
“I thought I had better.” She smiled. “Pharsi girls try harder.”
I winced at the out-of-context quote.
She bent forward and brushed my cheek with her lips. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel that way, but . . . let’s just say that it was a difficult week.”
“Some High Holder trying to be too familiar?”
“His son . . .”
“Do I know the name?”
“I don’t know.” She smiled, mischievously, and somehow sadly, all at once. “Alhyral D’Haestyr.”
“His father is on the Council.”
“Young Alhyral made that point . . . several times. I finally told him that his choice was between his father having no furniture and him not having me or his father having furniture and him not having me. Then he asked how I could possibly turn down the heir of a High Holder, especially one so supportive of merchants, crafters, and factors. I said that was the only option, because I was not raised to deal with High Holders, and he was not raised to deal with Pharsi women. He persisted, until I pointed out that Pharsi women don’t believe in sex without a binding commitment to marry, and that we also don’t believe in divorce, and that there are no unhappy Pharsi husbands. Some dead husbands and unfaithful fiances, but no unhappy ones.”
I whistled softly. “And that was the polite version.”
“I didn’t have to use the pistol.” She laughed, softly, warmly, then wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I kissed her, and she returned the favor with ardor-but only for a few moments. “I don’t think I’d better be too disheveled when I meet your family.”
She had a very good point, and I escorted her out to the waiting hack.
The driver smiled, as if to say that now he understood why I’d paid him to wait.
Once we were in the coach, I asked, “Have you heard about Madame D’Shendael?”
“Grandmama said that she had one last source to go with what she got from Ailphens yesterday.”
I didn’t press on that, because, if Seliora had known more, she would have told me.
We arrived just before fifth glass, and Khethila was the one to open the door. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t gape.
“Khethila, this is Seliora. Seliora, my sister Khethila.”
“I’m so pleased to meet to you,” Khethila said.
“And I, you,” replied Seliora warmly.
“Please do come in. The formal parlor is to the right.” Khethila stepped back to the left.
I let Seliora step through the open door first, then followed.
“She’s gorgeous, Rhenn,” Khethila leaned forward and murmured in my ear as I turned to escort Seliora into the formal parlor. “I’ll tell Mother and Father that you’re here,” she added in a louder voice.
Seliora and I barely stood in the parlor long enough for her to glance around the room before Mother and Father arrived, trailed by Khethila.
“Seliora, these are my parents. Father, Mother, this is Seliora.”
Seliora inclined her head demurely. “I’m honored to meet you both. Rhenn has said so much about you.”
“Not too much, I trust,” replied Father.
“Enough to know that you’re both exceptional. Anyone who has the understanding to let their son pursue art shows great perception.” Her words could have been artificial or glib, but Seliora offered them in full honesty and directness, in a way that could not be denied.
“Please, do sit down,” Mother said, her eyes barely leaving Seliora for a moment. “Would you like Dhuensa, or red or white Cambrisio?”
I glanced to Seliora.
“The Dhuensa, if you please.”
“For me, too,” I added.
“I’d like the white Cambrisio, and your father would like the Dhuensa.” Mother looked to Khethila, and I understood that unspoken command. Mother wasn’t about to miss anything.
“I’ll be right back,” Khethila said. “Don’t say anything too exciting.”
I understood that as well, but I didn’t say a word until Seliora and I were seated on the formal loveseat. “Where’s Culthyn?”
