“Hey, get me some fried chicken legs or something,” Kessligh called after her. “That stall owner by the mouth of Ashetel Lane does great chicken. I'm sick of seafood.”
“Aye, mighty Yuan!” Sasha said sarcastically in Lenay. “Whatever you command.” Kessligh watched her go with a wry smile, then turned his eyes back to the ceiling.
In the temple's studio the statues stood silent. Sasha climbed the staircase up the end wall, pushed open the creaking wooden trapdoor and emerged into a dusty hall, daylight falling cold through a series of windows.
She opened a door into a small, paved chamber with two beds. On one lay a saddlebag, containing the few possessions that she had not left at Pazira House-some changes of clothes, her washing oils and other serrin things that a girl did not like to go without. Some thoughtful soul had moved them when they'd taken the Shereldin Star from the Velo House. She had not asked them to, but she could not help but be glad.
Another old, slightly warped door led to the washroom. She knocked, but there was no reply.
“Errollyn?” She pushed the door open. Errollyn sat on a small stool, clad only in pants. His hair was wet, tousled about his neck and brow, and rivulets of water ran down his bare back. He sat with an elbow on one knee, staring at the far wall. He did not look at her, nor speak, nor move.
Sasha pushed the door open more fully and stepped into the washroom. His sword and bow leaned in one corner, and his belt with knives, and the quiver of arrows. Last night, he'd spent much time collecting his arrows from the corpses of his many victims. The fingers of his left hand now rubbed absently at the calluses on his right.
Sasha stepped before him and squatted, hands on his knees. Tears streaked his cheeks. His deep green eyes seemed to shimmer, swimming with moisture.
“Rhillian's leaving,” Errollyn whispered. “They're all leaving. She took Aisha.”
“I heard,” Sasha said solemnly. “Would you rather go with them?”
He stared at her. His eyes were almost frightening. “I can't. My path is here. I cannot betray myself.”
Sasha took his hand awkwardly. And squeezed. “I'm glad. For myself, I mean,” she amended quickly.
“I cannot betray myself, so I must betray my people. She was right about me. She named me a traitor.”
“She said that?” Sasha couldn't believe it, it was not a serrin concept, and never had been. Only…she recalled Rhillian last night atop the Tarae Keep. Recalled the horror in her eyes. Sasha had often wondered just how far a serrin might need to be pushed in order to cease being reasonable. Last night, she'd looked into the eyes of a woman pushed far beyond any limit. “Errollyn…they're saying Palopy was a massacre. I don't know how she and Kiel survived, but it must have been horrific. She doesn't know what she's saying, Errollyn-”
“Doesn't she? I am du'janah. To be born du'janah is to be born a traitor.”
“I don't understand…what does that mean? Not one of you serrin has actually explained to me what a du'janah is.”
Errollyn touched her face gently. He ran a thumb over her cheek. It tingled, and Sasha felt her heart beat faster. His face twisted in a grimace. “I can't explain. There are no words. You'd need to be serrin.”
“Damn it, Errollyn, that's an excuse, nothing more.” Somehow, with her, a racing heart threatened to unleash a temper, no matter what had brought it on. “How can I help if you just keep pushing me away?”
Errollyn hung his head with a sigh, and offered no answer. His hand slipped from hers. His despair was one sad sight too many. The Errollyn she knew was full of mischievous, irreverent intellect. He found everything interesting, but took nothing too seriously. Now, he seemed a sad wreck of a man. Sasha hated morbidity. She had to do something, because this…this was all getting too much.
Her heart thudding madly, she stood, and pushed him upright as she straddled him. Then, she sat in his lap. Errollyn stared at her. A shiver went up her spine. She put her forearms across his shoulders and locked fingers behind his neck. “I've had a hard day,” she told him, awkwardly. As if that explained everything. Dear spirits, she hoped Rhillian had not just been teasing her, or this was going to rank among the most embarrassing moments of her life.
Errollyn took a deep breath. Wiped at his eyes. “This is unmanly, I suppose?” he said, with a crooked smile. And what a smile. Her heart nearly stopped. Errollyn could cry as a Lenay man rarely would and, yes, a part of her thought it most unbecoming of him…and yet he had eyes like a predator and a body not unlike one of the statues downstairs. With a bow in his hand, he was surely more dangerous to his enemies than even she was with a sword.
“It's only unmanly when it becomes a habit,” Sasha replied, a little breathlessly. Errollyn took another deep breath, finished wiping his eyes and tousled his wet hair. Dear spirits, she liked that too. It hung about those impossible green eyes, grey and wild.
“I apologise for being a pale shadow of the many great yuans you've doubtless known.”
“Not many great yuans have bested as many in battle as you have,” she pointed out.
Errollyn made a face. “Aye, but that's archery. A coward's cheat. Even you think so.”
“I do not.”
“Oh yes you do. You've said many times that you hate archers.”
“I didn't mean it.”
“Do you always say things you don't mean with such conviction?”
“Always. Most things I say with great conviction I don't mean. I'm like that.”
“And why would that be, do you think?”
“Errollyn!” Sasha burst out, finally losing patience. “I gathered all my courage just to sit on your lap! Do something!”
Errollyn smiled, gazing at her calmly. His eyes were so close. If she looked into them directly, she would freeze. “Why does it fall to me to do something?” His breath was warm on her cheek. “You have two arms, two legs…”
“I…well, look, it just does!”
“In Lenayin, where women are submissive and await the advances of passing men like the virtuous maidens they surely are?” He was teasing her, she realised. Like a cat playing with a mouse. She got off him before she could succumb to the urge to hit him…but he caught her about the waist and pulled her back down.
“Don't play with me!” she said hotly.
“I thought you wanted me to play with you?” She hit him, hard in the shoulder. He winced, but laughed. “You're beautiful when you're angry.”
“You're a pain!” She really was angry now, she disliked feeling so helpless. And yet…and yet his hands on her waist ran up her sides, admiringly, and her breath came very short.
“I'm serrin,” he said reasonably. “Of course I'm a pain.” And dear spirits, as if she hadn't learned the truth of that lately. “You're sure you want to do this? Your priests will tell you it'll send you straight to the hottest hell.”
Sasha snorted. “I'm Goeren-yai, I don't care a puddle of piss what some priest says.”
“Watch your mouth,” Errollyn teased, touching her lips with a finger. “We're in a temple.”
“A temple full of sexy nude statues,” Sasha replied, stifling a giggle.
“Sasha?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for sitting on my lap. I've been hoping you would for quite some time.” Before she could think of a reply, he kissed her.
It felt as wonderful as she remembered from the day before…only this time, she could stay where she was and enjoy it at her leisure. She kissed him back, but evidently not very well, because he smiled, took her hair in both hands and showed her how to do it better. That became a game and soon she was laughing between kisses, and feeling…spirits, better than she could ever remember feeling, with the possible exception of the first time she'd bested Kessligh in a sparring session as a girl.