“That was well done. Very impressive,” Dakon said.
“Thank you.” She felt heat come to her face and pushed away another surge of pride.
Dakon looked at Jayan. “I’ve been proud to be the master of both of my apprentices tonight,” he said, smiling broadly. Jayan looked doubtful, Tessia noticed. “Both of you are far too clever for a humble country magician like me.”
She voiced a protest and heard Jayan do the same.
“Ah, but it is true,” Dakon said. “That’s why I have decided that, as soon as we get the chance, I am going to teach Jayan higher magic and send him off into the world as his own master.”
Tessia smothered a laugh at Jayan’s open-mouthed astonishment. I was right. Clearly he didn’t believe me.
Then she felt an unexpected pang of sadness. I think I may actually miss him. Then she wrinkled her nose. For a few hours, anyway. Then I’ll realise nobody has said anything annoying to me in a while and I’ll realise how nice it is to be rid of him.
The wagon rolled slowly through Arvice. Kachiro had ordered the flaps to be tied open so Stara could enjoy the scenery. Warm spring air lingered as the sun dipped towards the horizon. Flowers covered the trees that lined the larger, main roads of the city, and the air was sweet with their scent. Insects also abounded – in swarms that darkened the air as they passed and set slaves to slapping themselves – but at the wagon openings they vanished in a sizzle and spark of light as they encountered Kachiro’s magical barriers.
The barriers only protected those inside the wagon. Stara thought of Vora clinging to the back. It must be hard and unpleasant for the old woman to ride that way, her hands gripping handholds and her legs braced on the narrow foot ledge.
Stara had suggested Vora stay behind, but the slave had shaken her head. “This is your first experience of Sachakan society outside your father’s house,” she’d said. “You’ll need my guidance.”
“Here we are,” Kachiro said. The wagon slowed as it neared a pair of impressive double gates standing open to allow passage. He turned to look at her, smiling as his eyes travelled from her shoes to her headdress. “You look wonderful,” he told her, and she could detect nothing but honest admiration. “As always, an excellent combination of cloth and decoration. I am lucky to have a wife with not just beauty, but good taste.”
Stara smiled. “Thank you. I am lucky to have a husband who appreciates such things.” She met his gaze, knowing she could not hide the fact that his compliment filled her mind with doubts and questions.
“I do,” he said. Then he looked down for a moment. “I would also appreciate it if you did not mention...my difficulty, to the wives,” he added in a murmur.
“Of course not!” she replied quickly. “It is our secret.”
He smiled. “My friends’ wives love a good secret,” he warned her.
“Not this one,” she assured him.
“Thank you.” The wagon was now turning through the open gates into a large courtyard abuzz with slaves. Kachiro helped her climb down to the ground, then turned to the slaves waiting nearby, who had prostrated themselves. “We’re here to join Master Motara in celebrating his birthing day. Take us to the gathering place.”
One of the slaves rose. “It is this way,” he said.
They headed inside, Vora and one of Kachiro’s slaves following. Stara recognised the restrained decoration and beautiful furniture immediately. As she slowed to admire a long cabinet full of drawers of different sizes, Kachiro chuckled.
“Of course, Motara keeps all his best pieces. I’ve tried to persuade him to sell that one to me many times. He won’t even risk it when gambling.”
“So Master Motara is your friend who designs the furniture?”
“Yes.”
“I must compliment him on it, then.”
Kachiro looked surprised, then thoughtful. “He would like that. Yes – do it. Women do not usually take an interest in such things. At least, not when they are around men.”
Stara frowned. “Should I say nothing? Would it offend him more to voice an opinion?” She felt a moment’s disbelief that she was asking this. Since when had she cared whether anyone wanted her opinion or not?
“He won’t be offended. Only surprised,” he assured her. Then he gave her that admiring smile that was so infuriatingly puzzling. “I am liking your unconventionality more and more, Stara. It is refreshing. Women are too secretive and reserved. They should be more like you, open and interested in things.”
“I can also be stubborn and nosy. You might not like that sort of unconventionality.”
He laughed. “For now, I choose to believe that is the price I paid for marrying a woman who is not only beautiful, but clever too.”
Stara felt her heart flip over. Then she felt herself begin to scowl and forced herself to look down to hide her expression, hoping he thought her embarrassed by the compliment. There would be no harm in falling in love with Kachiro, she thought. But it would be very, very annoying. And frustrating. But then, I might not mind his “difficulty” if I were in love with him. If the romantic tales are right.
The slave stopped at the entrance to a large room and stepped aside, his head bowed. Kachiro led Stara past him, then took her arm. Five men turned to look at them. All had the broad shoulders and wide face of the typical Sachakan male, but one was fat, another was skinny, and one had dark pigmentation under his eyes. They ranged in age from not long past youthful boyhood to middle age. The skinny one rose and stepped forward.
“Kachiro! You’re even later than usual!”
Kachiro chuckled. “I confess it is my fault, Motara. I didn’t think to tell my wife we were visiting until it was nearly time to leave, forgetting that she would need time to prepare. This,” he gestured gracefully toward her, “is the lovely Stara.”
Stara smiled. She could have been ready in minutes, but Vora had insisted on taking an hour “to teach your husband that he needs to be more considerate in plans that include a wife’.
The other four men had risen and now joined Motara in approving of her. She kept her gaze lowered as Vora had taught her, but could tell they were examining her closely and appreciatively.
“She is exquisite,” Motara said. “Knowing you so well, I was confident you would apply your eye for beauty to even the difficult task of finding an appropriate wife. But even I am impressed at the result.” The others murmured agreement.
Kachiro looked at her and smiled. “She is more than that. She has a sharp mind and wit, and an eye for beauty and taste to rival my own.” He nudged her gently. “What did you say to me before?”
She looked up fleetingly to meet Motara’s gaze. “That Master Motara’s furniture, here and at home, is exceptional. Graceful in proportion and shape. The cabinet with the drawers . . .” She sighed. “So beautiful.”
Motara seemed to grow a little taller, and for a moment he bounced on the balls of his feet. Then he chuckled. “You didn’t tell her to say that in another of your attempts to get hold of it, did you, Kachiro?”
“Oh! No!” Stara protested. “He did not!”
“No,” Kachiro replied, a hint of smugness in his voice. “She stopped to admire it on the way in. You can ask your slave to confirm it.”
Motara laughed again. “I may just do that, though you still could have described it to her before arriving. Now, on to more important matters. Dashina has kept his promise. We have a bottle each! Vikaro and Rikacha were hoping you weren’t coming, so they could share yours. Chavori wanted it all for himself, but we know how bad he is at drinking.” Motara turned towards the chairs the men had been sitting on.
“And Chiara?” Kachiro asked.
Motara made a dismissive gesture. “With the other women, no doubt whining about us.” He looked at Stara, and she dropped her gaze. “Don’t believe half of what they say,” he warned her.
She looked up at Kachiro questioningly, and he smiled. “They’re not as scary as he makes out. Go and join them. They’re probably itching with curiosity about you.”
He made a gesture and she turned to see a slave step forward. Glancing back at Vora, who nodded, she moved towards him.
“Take me to the women,” she ordered quietly. The slave bowed, then led her towards another exit from the room and into a corridor.
So I don’t get to talk to Kachiro’s friends, she thought. Not that I expected to. He didn’t so much want me to meet them as to show me off to them. She considered whether this bothered her. It does, but I can forgive him that. It’s nice that he considers me clever, but even nicer that he’s willing to tell people that he thinks I am, in a way that shows he thinks it’s a good character trait and not a bad one.
The women were in a room not far away from the men, sitting on cushion-covered wooden benches. There were only four of them, which she guessed meant one of the men was unmarried. They turned to regard her as the slave prostrated himself.