She climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. This was, quite definitely, something the Lord Cardinal would want to know about. She shivered, turning onto her side. It suddenly occurred to her, as it never had on Opal, that reporting back on the private conversations of one’s husband, or even one’s promised husband, was not—she could think of no other word—nice. And yet, the Lord Cardinal was right, wasn’t he? And beyond that, he was bound to ask to see her sometime soon, and ask for her confession, and the cold and horrible truth was that she could see no way in the world he wouldn’t be able to get the information out of her.
She stared at the patterns on the wall, wondering why she felt so depressed. It must be the effect of the witch’s drink, she thought, as she fell asleep.
“Well?” Adrian pulled out one of the embroidered chairs beside Granny Seaton.
“Granny, tell him,” said Prudence.
The witch turned to him. “You’ll not like this, boy.”
“Then don’t make me wait, Granny.”
She shrugged. “You’ve heard of masking?” His expression was unenlightened. “Some call it ‘hooding.’ ”
Adrian turned to Prudence, eyes wide. “That hasn’t been done in centuries. It’s against the laws of the Church.”
“Not on Opal, apparently.”
Granny Seaton said, “It’s been done hereabouts, too, once or twice that I know of. A simple enough procedure, after all. A shield of plastiflesh is placed around the clitoris, tied in place for a few minutes until it starts to attach…. I don’t believe the child even knows it’s there, though from the looks of things it was done in the last few years. It must have been some time when she was deeply unconscious, probably just after her Confirmation. It would’ve been a painful and highly memorable experience, otherwise.”
“Barbarians,” Adrian muttered.
“Oh, there’s plenty more on the Diamond who would do it if they could. It’s so easy to trust a wife who gets no pleasure from sex.”
“Any at all?” asked Adrian.
Granny’s silver-buckled shoe tapped the floor. “Well, I suppose there’s the pleasure that comes from doing one’s duty.”
“Damn!” said Adrian.
“Yes,” Granny agreed. “They ought to have told you. I expect there was no insult in mind when it was done; they only thought to increase her marriage value. I even wondered whether to speak up—by now, you know, the sheathe will have permanently joined with the flesh, and it would be a nightmare to remove. But then, I thought, it’s the Protector, after all! And a hooded wife? Not to be tolerated! What could they have been thinking of?” Adrian felt his face grow warm again. By folk tradition, a certain sexual prowess was associated with the Protectorship. “Well, thank you for your attendance, Granny. I’ll give the problem some thought.”
“Now, as to other matters,” she said briskly. “Things look auspicious for the wedding night; she’s a virgin, of course, but the passage is fairly well-sized, all the messing about they did must have stretched it.”
“Thank you, Granny.” Adrian stood up and took her hand firmly. “I’ll escort you to Brandon Fischer now, shall I, and he’ll see that you get home safely.”
“I’m not finished.”
Adrian swung open the door to the main sitting room. “Brandon, would you see that our honored visitor has an escort home?” He threw a look over her stooped shoulder that said, Brandon, please.
Fischer grinned. “This way, my lady, if you would.” Adrian went back inside the other room, where Prudence now sat perched on the arm of a heavily stuffed chair. She was also grinning. “Considering all the time you’ve spent with the girls on Requiem Row, I’m amazed you can still be shocked.”
“On the Row they don’t talk about things so ... clinically.”
“So plainly. No, I imagine they use more colorful terms, at least until the customers leave. You know, my dear, in your own way you’re something of a romantic.”
Adrian frowned suddenly. “Anyway, who says I spend time on Requiem Row?”
Prudence laughed. “Without gossip, court life would be intolerable.”
His answering smile faded. “What am I to do? You know the statutes about using anesthesia in reproductive operations—“born in sorrow,” and the other sections of the law. I’m not putting Io through that. The reasonable thing to do would be to smuggle her to a medic on Baret Station—I’m sure Tal could arrange one quietly—but should anyone find out, I’d have no excuse for taking her there. I could try to bring a medic in, but we could never keep it quiet.”
Prudence gave him a sympathetic look. Adrian said, “Maybe I’m overreacting. Aren’t you going to tell me that women don’t care about that sort of thing as much as men do?”
She kicked off her slippers, slid down into the couch, and curled her legs underneath herself. “My dear friend, I can’t speak for other women. But judging by my relationship with Michael—”
“Yes?”
“Well, were I you, I would go out and try to solve this problem, Adrian. Brandon and I, and possibly your demon, are all your friends. You don’t lack for supply in that area. I thought you were looking for a wife.”
Adrian was silent. Then— “I am,” he said.
“And is she one you could accept? Myself, I like her— but how is it for you?”
He gave an unhappy laugh. “She’s a beauty, I saw that right away. My heart beat faster at once. Of course, my heart has beaten faster many times.”
“A strong cup of coffee will do it,” said Prudence tartly.
“As you say. She has skin you could get lost in, like the snow at night in Helium Park. One could gaze for hours. Her hair is like a silken gown left tumbled on a bed, asking to be gathered up—”
“I grant you this,” said Prudence, “but I note that,
