She really didn't want to don the new clothing until she had bathed-and it had been a long and tiring day. The more she thought about it, the better she liked the idea, and she nodded.
The white marble bathroom was larger than her rear garden, and the tub deep enough to swim in. The large bath was already full of hot water, and steam rose from it in wispy plumes. There was a smaller bath designed for washing in, which Faro filled with hot water for her; the larger bath was meant to soak away muscle aches and relax one's mind. While Faro busied himself with it, she took a look around. There had been a variety of scented soaps and bath oils laid ready for her, and in a cedar cabinet she found a selection of thick, fluffy towels and robes. There was even a silver pitcher of cold water and a half-dozen goblets. Water beaded up on the side of the pitcher, fogging the bright gleam of the metal, but she had no doubt that it was real silver.
Faro left her alone, after he promised her with a smile that he would take advantage of the room himself once she was done. She stepped into the smaller tub, and added an herbal extract to the water; the fresh scent cleared her head. The bath in her home was a good place in which to think, but it was functional, not beautiful, and it was just barely large enough for a good soak. She reveled in the sweetly-scented soap, giving her hair a good wash that left it smelling faintly of violets, and rinsed herself off. She bound up her hair, then took her place in the large bath. There were places built into it suitable for reclining, and that was what she did, with hot water up to her chin, and her head pillowed on a folded towel.
The white marble chamber, full of steam, seemed dreamlike; as if she floated beneath a huge cloud, cradled in the warm hand of a lake. The only sound was the occasional plink of a drop of water into the bath.
She half closed her eyes, still gathering her impressions and memories of the day. Day? It seemed like a month- too much had happened today. The wild horse that was her life had carried her into truly unknown country.
It seemed too late for second thoughts-and yet, she could not help but have them. She appreciated how readily a person might be corrupted by such luxury, and knew that it was part of Ware's campaign to win her favor. But she was not one to forget her ultimate values, or to yield to mere convenience. She was here because her situation required it. She might enjoy it, but it was business, and she would give it up when it was appropriate to do so.
Her real concern was of a larger nature. True, she had agreed to this task of Adria's, but in the light of all she had learned, could she truly go through with this? Would she not be betraying her people, and everything she had ever learned of honor?
No. She had to. She was committed. She must attempt to fetch this stone for the Queen. She had given her word, and her word must be good, or she had no honor.
And at the same time, it seemed to her that she was trading her well-being, her release from the threat of exile or prison, for the wholesale destruction of her entire world. Ware's words had left no doubt in her mind that the destruction would come, and within her own lifetime.
If that was all there was to it, simply saving herself at the expense of the women of the realm-then that would be a selfish thing to do. If only she could tell the Queen-if only she could make her realize that what she was asking for was death-
But Ware had made it clear that Adria was already too influenced by the promise of the shard to believe anything Xylina told her. The Queen would never give credence to the notion that the promise of the shard was false. If, indeed, Ware permitted her to tell Queen Adria. It was very clear to Xylina that Ware was more in control of events than he had ever allowed anyone to guess. Perhaps all the demons were.
That was a thought as fascinating as a hooded hissing serpent. Were the demons controlling affairs, yet allowing the women of Mazonia to think that they were in control?
Xylina was horribly confused; she felt as if she were compromising her honor-yet she had given her sworn word. How could she preserve her honor by violating her word? How could she keep her word without violating her honor?
She closed her eyes, and let sweat trickle down her face, emptying her mind in the hopes that an answer would come to her. She was no longer in control of anything but her own actions, and that only insofar as they affected only herself and Faro. That much was quite clear. Between them, the Queen and Ware governed her destiny, her actions. She had no choice in that. So in a way,they were the ones responsible, weren't they?
No, that was no answer, either. It was casuistry.
She could only do her best to keep her honor and follow whatever runaway course they set for her.
Faro moved a little in the outer room; she heard him stirring in his chair, then turning a page in one of the books Ware had placed in their chambers. Faro had been eager to get to those books; she fancied he missed the reading that he would have done as a scribe. She had often wished she had more books for him to read, but she simply could not afford them. There were so many things she wished she could have done for him. He deserved better. Marcus had deserved better. And that brought another, and very odd, thought to her mind.
Suppose that the change that would come, though drastic, would be beneficial to everyone? The past few hours had brought changes to her thoughts as well as to her life. She was able to look at circumstances in an entirely different light. What right, after all, did the Mazonites have to keep the men enslaved? Only the "right" of custom. Of power, stemming from the magic. Faro, and Marcus before him, had been very good to her. They had served as parents to her; they protected her-
It was more than that; she owed Faro her very life. If it had not been for him, she would have succeeded in destroying herself. Faro had shown her the reason to continue living. If circumstances had been different, if she could have, she would have freed both Marcus and Faro. Faro she could not free, by law, and Marcus had not lived long enough to be freed.
Both deserved a better lot than they had, under the Mazonite government. Neither would ever have it. The best she could do for Faro, if he ever changed his mind and chose freedom over whatever rewards she could give him, would be to take him to the border, give him gold, and tell him to run. He would then be on his own, in a strange land, among people who by all accounts were barbarians.
Would it be so bad, then, for a change to bring a betterment in the lot of men?
She shook her head, finally, sending drops of sweat into the bath. These things were too deep, too complicated for her. She could go on only as she had been, and hope that, whatever happened, she could make the right choices.
• Chapter 10
Xylina looked back along the dusty, sun-drenched track, at the long string of men and pack-animals behind her. She herself rode a mule at the head of the string, a mule being the only animal she felt she could trust herself on, since she had not ridden since her mother died. Her beast was a tall, gentle, gray-white, with a shaggy coat and a patient nature. While a mule was not exactly a prancing charger, it would not bolt with her, and if danger threatened, it would keep its head. That was far more than she could count on from a horse. Or so Ware had told her when she had been given her choice of mounts from the Queen's stable. She was inclined to believe him. He had not once misled her, either in the kinds of supplies he had advised her to take, or the route he advised her to follow. And he had nothing to gain and no real reason to mislead her, which was the final reason to trust him. He wanted her love as well as her body, and he knew that deceit could never win the former.