The Matron stood and walked slowly to the western wall of the room, leaning a little on the balustrade under the deep-set windows. Beyond the window the sun blazed down on the island, throwing the aquamarine sea into sharp relief against the dark cliffs. She pursed her lips, looking out at the empty horizon. "This business of guessing at the intent and the desire of emperors is dangerous. Their concerns are not yours, or of any man or woman who does not wield such power. Their responsibilities color the world a different shade than do mine or yours. Emperors forget friends and family, or even those who have done them a good turn. They can never be trusted, you know."
Thyatis looked up. The Matron's voice had fallen low, and she seemed lost in memory.
"The concern of an emperor," continued the Matron in a very soft voice, "is the cruel business of Empire. I think, my dear student, that in this matter- of following your heart and helping your friendthe scales balance in your favor."
"Then I did the right thing?" Thyatis stood, nervously rubbing her hands on her thighs.
The Matron laughed and turned from the window. "No one can say that," she said, her old face creased by a wide smile. "But tell me this, O impetuous one, if you had left your dear Shirin in the ruin of that palace, and she now was the captive wife of a prince of the Eastern Empire, would you account that you had done the right thing?"
Thyatis stopped cold. An image of the Eastern Prince Theodore flashed in her mind, and Shirin was kneeling at his feet, her face bruised and streaked with tears, her pale yellow silk gown torn. The Prince was laughing, his broad red face flushed. A thin trickle of sweat crept down from his hairline. Without thinking, her lips contorted in a snarl and her fists clenched.
The Matron frowned, her eyes narrowing. "You see?" she said sharply, bringing Thyatis' attention back to her. "You could not bear it. So does your heart weigh the balance."
"Yes," Thyatis said, troubled again, "I suppose it is so."
Shirin leaned back against the cold stone of the wall in the changing room. Wearily, she raised one knee up and began stripping the padding from her shin. Each movement of her fingers as she unwrapped the cloth was filled with pain. Her fingers trembled as she picked at the knots. After a moment she realized she had been fumbling at one knot for an unknown amount of time. It had pulled tight in the exertion of the long endless day of training. Her hand flopped back down into her lap. Slowly, though she tried to fight against it, she slid sideways, unable to muster the energy to stay upright. The bench was carved slate, quarried from the depths of the island. It was cold and hard, but it held her up. Her eyes closed, and her breath ran fast in little short gasps.
She dreamed, and it was a dream of constant motion and pain.
A light touch came at her shoulder, and she sat up, her eyes blinking furiously.
A face appeared at the center of her vision, a delicate oval dominated by enormous dark eyes.
"Sifu:," she wheezed, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to fall asleep!"
"No matter, little bird," came the calm voice with its lilting undertone. "Let me help you up."
Fine-boned hands slipped under her arms and raised her up, though Shirin thought she would faint from the flush of pain that flooded her brutalized muscles. The months of training on the ships that had carried her and her family out of the Sinus Persicus, into the deep green waters of the Mare Ethyraeum, and finally to Egypt had toned her some, but nothing compared to the first day of her training here. Mikele carried her down a flight of steps into air thick with steam.
Hot water lapped at Shirin's feet and she gasped in relief to feel the warmth flow up her ankles.
"Here," Mikele said, stripping the short cotton chlamys off her. " Slide slowly into the water."
Shirin complied, feeling distant from her body as the warm water rose up around her. A glossy marble step ran around the circumference of the great bath, and she settled into it. The water came up to just above her breasts. It felt wonderful. Mikele settled herself above her, on the lip of the bath, her golden-toned legs on either side. Shirin leaned back, a breath hissing out between her teeth.
"Your work today," Mikele said in a conversational voice as she began rubbing the top of Shirin's scalp with her thumbs, her long fingers holding the Khazar woman's head upright, "was reasonable. You are slow, but not without the promise of speed. You are not very strong, but there is a hint of power in your efforts. You are very tight across the middle of your body- you carry too much bad chi in your lower back and along your spine."
Shirin lost the thread of the conversation, feeling only the glorious warmth that penetrated her bones and the slow, spreading wave of relaxation that seemed to radiate out from Mikele's thumbs.
"Why did you bring your dear friend here?"
Thyatis put down the wooden mug on the table and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Across from her, leaning back against an ancient carved wooden chair with a high back, the Matron regarded her. Darkness had come, stealing across the jagged peaks of the island, filling the bowl of the lagoon, covering the hidden windows with the shade of night. Thyatis sat in a small alcove cut into the side of the Matron's quarters, at a table of ancient cedarwood, with her legs tucked up under her. The alcove looked out, hidden by a crumbling outthrust cliff, over the lagoon. An embrasure had been carefully cut along the natural line of the rock, keeping the little balcony hidden from those who might look up from below. A long afternoon had passed between them, and now dinner was done as well. A few plates stood between them on the table- simple hand-fired bowls and plates such as the Matron loved- and a red-checked amphora of Cretan wine.
"I"- Thyatis smiled, her teeth white in the twilight- "I don't think I even considered taking her anywhere else."
"Hmm: " The Matron looked out, over the lagoon, listening to the rhythmic slap of the water on the narrow beach below. "You brought her home, I think. To a place you felt safe. You chose well, my dear. She will be safe among us, while the island stands. But I do not think you made that decision bereft of all thought."
"How so?" Thyatis said, drawing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around them. "All that time seems a blur to me."
"Oh," the Matron laughed in her quiet way, "your head may not have thought, but your heart surely did. Tell me, why did you bring her to us as an ephebe, a student, a novitiate of the Huntress? We would have taken her in without such an ancient ceremony- many women who have found sanctuary here have never taken the oaths. Why bring her to me in clothes of an ancient cut? Why have her recite, so formally, that hoary old greeting?"
Thyatis flushed, and scratched her scalp furiously, looking away. "I don't know: it just seemed the proper way to do it. I had forgotten about the Unsworn:"
"Pah!" the Matron barked, and she took a shelled nut out of the bowl on the table. She chewed it slowly, her eyes hard on Thyatis, who found that she could not meet them. "There is more than ceremony and tradition afoot in your addled brain. Tell me this, then: If she were gone away tomorrow, would you miss her?"
"Yes." Thyatis sighed, burying her face in her knees. "I miss her now, with her gone each day to train in the Temple of the Way. I should go on to Rome- the Duchess will be angry if I delay much longer- but it is hard to think of not seeing her."