Children of Chaos

Thod had been listening with ears like winnowing fans and eyes not much smaller. He knew her! Whatever would little Thilia say if she heard that? At Hiddi's snarl, he turned an impossible shade of scarlet and shot a horrified glance at his master.

'Off with you!' Benard said, and Thod vanished in a spray of marble chips. 'You know my apprentice?'

'I know them all. But as I was saying,' Hiddi continued, obviously trying to make her voice sound less like a refugee's from a pig farm and more like a high priestess's, 'I shouldn't have overlooked the name of the greatest artist in Kosord. As a collector of beautiful things myself, I am very honored to know you, Master Artist Benard.' She flaunted her kohl-darkened lashes.

She was a child dressed up, robbing her mother's jewel box to play at being a queen or great lady. She was also unnecessary. Whether Nymphs were purely benevolent as they claimed or vicious gold diggers as their reputation labeled them, Benard needed no such distraction interrupting his work just now ... except maybe a quick glance at her feet. On the night they met, he had not taken adequate notice of her feet. Understandably. He could invent feet, but they would look wrong, at least to his over-critical eye.

'The lady is gracious to praise my art.'

'That, too.' She smiled coquettishly. Her face, her body, were delectable, incredible, but her flirting was clumsy and lame.

Puzzled, Benard said, 'What can I do for you, mistress?'

The Nymph's sigh strained the muslin over those flawless breasts. 'I still have to show you how thankful I am to you for rescuing me from those Werists.' Earnest.

He bowed. 'Say no more. It was my pleasure.'

'I would be willing to show my gratefulness.' Sickly coyness.

'I really am very busy today, Hiddi. I would appreciate a quick glance at your ankles, though.'

'Just ankles?' Flirtatious.

'And feet.'

'You should be more ambitious. Come back to my house with me and I'll show you all the pretty arty things I have, mm?' Imploring.

The prettiest of all were in plain view through her wrap. The lashes could not possibly be real—they were probably made of feathers and glue—but the rest of her was all genuine, every delicious morsel. Other appetites stirred. He could feel his resolution melting like snow in high summer. Rumble!

Hiddi smirked. 'I'll feed you! I have a wonderful cook.'

'No images of holy Eriander?'

'Not one, I promise!' Amazingly young, very desirable, she was somehow contriving to appear innocent while implying that her intentions were anything but. Her scent alone was intoxicating. Hard hammering had made Benard's hands tremble; her smile could make all of him flap like a flag, and his body was already saluting the view through that web. She sat at ease in the shade; he was being broiled.

'I have no gifts to offer you,' he protested.

'Am I so stupid? If I wanted gifts, I wouldn't show you this.' She rattled bracelets in a clash of metal. 'And I wouldn't come begging from a man who lives in a kennel.'

He did want to work on the statue while there was daylight. Nymphs did have a bad reputation for enslaving men and bleeding them of everything they possessed. On the other hand...

The other hand held several good arguments on its sweaty palm, not least of which was that he must eat sometime. He could not hope to hold on to his gold, because wealth was his corban. And he was curious to see her collection of loot.

'I'm not dressed to go visiting.'

'I'll undress you when we get there.' Teasing.

'No gifts, no god, no talk of love?' he said sadly. 'Just rank animal copulation? Like a cat—one yowl and it's over?'

'As rank as you want, master.'

'I do not enjoy being treated like an animal.'

'You are an animal,' she said sweetly, sure of her success now. 'All men are.'

'I suppose we seem so.'

Slaves and swordsman came trotting back, dripping and apparently ready to begin another journey. Thod followed them cautiously.

If gauze could be slammed, Hiddi slammed the drape. 'Then follow. Home, Nerio. Benard— heel!'

¦

He took a moment to outline some work for Thod, then sprinted after the chair as it vanished into the alley. He caught up with it just before the first fork. In these narrow ways, he made no effort to join the swordsman out in front. He had not expected to have trouble keeping up with older men so burdened, but Hiddi's slaves were trained to their work and kept up a fiendish pace, charging through crowds and narrow gaps like runaway onagers. The journey was much longer than he expected, uphill to the palace complex and then around to the fashionable side of the city. They stopped eventually at a gate set in an adobe wall. Nerio rang a bell. In a moment the gate was opened.

Winded, Benard staggered in after the slaves, down into a shaded courtyard. Someone handed him a soft towel