then flung it contemptuously aside. She left most of the burning residue from her hands on the other ship. As she let go of it, she clasped her great hands together. Gritting her teeth savagely, she clenched her hands into fists, squeezing out the flames that had seared her. Then, like an affronted lady lifting her skirts and storming out of the room, she suddenly answered both helm and sails. She turned aside from the troubled galley, opening the water wide between her and the smaller vessel. She tossed her head as she sailed past it.
Flames roared, and black smoke billowed up in harmony with the cries of the sailors trapped on the burning ship. Some one or two had the wind and the will to shout threats after Ophelia, but the noise of the fire shushed their words into unintelligible cries. The Ophelia sailed on.
CHAPTER SIX
Satrap Cosgo
'I'M BORED AND MY HEAD ACHES. DISTRACT ME FROM MY PAIN. AMUSE ME.' The voice came from the divan behind her.
Serilla did not even put down her pen. 'Magnadon Satrap, that is not my duty,' she pointed out quietly. 'You summoned me here to advise you on the Bingtown matter.' She gestured at the opened scrolls and books on the table. 'As you can see, that is what I am prepared to do.'
'Well, you can scarcely expect me to pay attention to your advice while my head is throbbing so. I can hardly see for the pain.'
Serilla set aside the texts she was perusing. She turned her attention to the young man sprawled facedown on the divan. The Satrap was nearly engulfed by silken cushions. She tried to keep the annoyance from her voice. 'I cannot promise that my advice will amuse you. However, if you would care to join me here at the table, I can enlighten you as to the facts of the Bingtown Traders' dispute.'
The Satrap groaned. 'Serilla, you delight in giving me headaches. If you can't be more sympathetic, go away and send in Veri. Or that new Companion from the Jade Island. What was her name? It reminded me of a spice. Meg. Send in Meg.'
'Gladly shall I obey you, Magnadon Cosgo.' She did not bother to hide her affront as she shoved the texts away and pushed back from the table.
He rolled about in his pillows, then stretched a pale hand out toward her. 'No. I've changed my mind. I know that I must hear your wisdom about Bingtown. All my advisors have told me the situation is crucial. But how can I think when I am in such pain? Please. Rub my head for me, Serilla. Just for a short time.'
Serilla arose from her table, and put a determinedly pleasant expression on her face. She reminded herself that the Bingtown issue must be resolved. It might even be resolved to her personal advantage. 'Magnadon Cosgo, I did not mean to be vexing. Do you have a headache? Let me massage it away. Then we will speak about Bingtown. As you say, the issue is crucial. And in my opinion, the Satrap's present position with them is untenable.' She crossed the chamber and pushed a number of pillows to the floor. She seated herself on the end of the divan. Cosgo immediately crawled over and put his head in her lap. He closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against her thigh like a lamb nuzzling for milk. She clenched her teeth.
'It is a curse. The headaches, the loose bowels, the flatulence. Some witch has put a curse on me. Why else should I be the victim of so much pain?' He moaned softly. He brought one hand up to rest on her thigh.
She set her fingers at the base of his skull and began to walk his tension points with her fingertips. There did seem to be some pain. 'Perhaps some fresh air would ease you. Exercise is most efficacious for bowel problems. It is lovely in the grounds on the south side of the temple. If we took ourselves to the thyme gardens, the fragrance might ease your pain.'
'It would be simpler to have a servant bring cuttings here. I do not care for bright days such as this. The light pains my eyes. How can you even suggest that I walk there myself when I am in such pain?' Almost idly, he lifted the hem of her robe. His fingers explored the smooth skin beneath. 'And last time I was in the temple grounds, I stumbled on an uneven paving stone. I fell to my knees as if I was a slave. My hands went into the dirt. You know how I detest filth.' He was petulant.
She set her hands to the muscles between his neck and shoulders and kneaded them deeply, making him wince with discomfort. 'You were intoxicated, Magnadon,' she recalled for him. 'That was why you fell. The filth on your hands was your own vomit that they slipped in.'
He twisted his head abruptly to stare up at her. 'That makes it my fault, I suppose?' he asked sarcastically. 'I thought the whole purpose of paving stones was to make the ground even and safe for walking. My poor gut was severely shocked by that fall. It was no wonder I could not keep my food down. Three healers agreed with me about that. But, I am sure that my well-educated Companion knows far better than the Magnadon Satrap Cosgo or his healers.'
She stood abruptly, not caring that it unsettled him. She caught the wrist of his exploring hand and thrust it toward his own groin in disdain. 'I am leaving. I am the Companion of your Heart. Nothing binds me to tolerate licentiousness from you.'
Cosgo sat up. He clenched his hands on his knees. 'You forget yourself! No one walks away from the Magnadon Satrap Cosgo. Come back. I shall say when you may leave.'
Serilla drew herself up to her full height. She was easily a head taller than this pale, self-indulged young man. She looked him up and down, her green eyes flashing. 'No. You forget yourself, Cosgo. You are not some Chalcedean so-called noble, with a harem of whores that scrabble to fondle and mouth you at your whim. You are the Satrap of Jamaillia. I am a Heart Companion, not some oiled and perfumed body tool. You say when I may leave, that is true. That does not mean I cannot leave when I find you disgusting.' She spoke over her shoulder as she walked toward the door. 'Send me word when you want to find out just how much trouble you can expect from Bingtown. That is my area of expertise. Find someone else to deal with your crotch.'
'Serilla!' he protested frantically. 'You cannot leave me in such pain! You know it is the pain that makes me forget myself. You cannot hold that against me.'
She halted at the door. Her brow creased as she frowned at him. 'I certainly can. And I do. Your father suffered extreme pain from his joints as he aged, yet he never treated me discourteously. Nor did he ever touch me uninvited.'
'My father, my father,' Cosgo whined. 'That is all you ever say to me. That I am not as good as he was. It makes me sick to think of that shriveled old man touching you. How could your parents have given such a young girl to such an old man? It's disgusting.'
She advanced several steps toward him, hands knotted into fists. 'You are disgusting, for imagining such things! My parents did not 'give' me to your father. I came to Jamaillia City myself, on my own, determined to pursue my studies. He was impressed with my learning when he overheard me in the Library of the North Lands, reciting for my master. He invited me to be a Companion of his Heart, to advise him on those lands. I considered it well, for three days, before I consented and accepted his ring. I took the vow to remain at the Satrap's side and advise him. It had nothing to do with his couch. He was a fine man. He made it possible for me to study, and he always listened well to me when I counseled him. When we disagreed, he did not blame it on a headache.' Her voice fell. 'I still mourn him.'
She opened the door and left the room. Outside, two stone-faced guards pretended they had not heard the squabble. She strode between them. She had not gone more than a dozen steps down the hall before she heard the door flung open. 'Serilla! Come back!'
She ignored the imperious command.
'Please!' the Satrap's voice grated.
She kept walking, her sandals whispering over the marble floor.
'The Magnadon Satrap Cosgo courteously requests that Companion Serilla return to his chambers to advise him on the Bingtown matter.' These words were bellowed after her down the hallway. She paused, then turned. The expression on her face was studiously polite. It was in her vows. She could not refuse him her company if he asked advice in her area of expertise. Her considered advice was all she had vowed to give him.
'I would be honored, Magnadon.' She retraced her steps. He leaned in the doorway, his normally pale cheeks reddened. His dark hair was tousled over his bloodshot eyes. She had to admire the expressionless guards.
