‘Are you serious?’ The idea that those sweet girls had been forced into lying with him, that they had been pretending the whole time, desperately trying to please him for their families’ sakes, was sickening.
‘Lady Ricinus can destroy them with a snap of her fingers,’ said Tobry.
Black fury smoked inside Rix. ‘The horrible, scheming bitch! I’m going to have it out with her the minute we get back.’
‘It might be an idea to finish the portrait first.’
The cursed portrait of his wretched father. ‘You’re right, of course.’
‘What can I say?’ grinned Tobry. ‘It’s a gift.’
‘Damn Mother! Well, I’ve had it. I’m swearing off women.’
Tobry stifled a roar of laughter. Rix did not smile.
‘What?’ said Tobry, alarmed. ‘Forever?’
Rix raised his right hand, ‘Upon my family’s honour, until the war is over I take no wench to my bed. And after the war, no woman I haven’t sought out by myself.’ It was the only way to be sure.
‘You won’t last a day.’
‘You want me to fail?’ Rix cried.
Tobry fought to restrain himself. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘Anyway, I’ve got to be ready for battle. I’m going to train night and day.’
‘You might be killed in the war,’ Tobry said slyly. ‘And never make love again.’
‘At least I’ll die knowing I’m not abusing girls too afraid to refuse me.’
Tobry went forwards until he could see the young woman again. ‘She doesn’t look as though she’s afraid of anything.’
Rix pushed past, deliberately jostling him. ‘From this moment she’s under my protection, so keep your eyes off her.’
‘My eyes weren’t on her.’
‘I mean it, Tobe.’
Tobry sighed. ‘Have I ever mentioned that you overdo everything?’
Who were these men? What did they want? Were they safe? Tali might be innocent but she was not naive. She knew what could happen.
Her bare feet felt cold. ‘Get down. Don’t let him see you.’
Rannilt scurried behind a broad clump of grass. ‘He already has.’ Tali edged towards the rocks where she had left her robes, surreptitiously picked up Mimoy’s small knife and slipped it through the back of her waist sash. ‘Is he a Cythonian?’
‘Can’t see any face tattoos,’ said Rannilt. ‘And he doesn’t have grey skin.’
He must be one of Tali’s own people. What was he doing here? Or was it just a coincidence?
‘Keep talking; don’t look around.’
‘There’s two of them. They know we’re here.’
Though they were well back in the bushes, Tali’s eyes were used to the dim light of Cython and she had no trouble picking them out — definitely Hightspallers. She swallowed. Why were they watching her? Then she saw that they wore kilts that exposed their thighs. She looked away, her cheeks hot.
Rannilt’s head was visible above the clump of grass, her mouth agape. ‘Ooh, they’ll be in trouble!’
‘We’re home now,’ Tali said softly. ‘That’s how noblemen and warriors dress in Hightspall. Men’s thighs are only indecent in Cython.’ She peeped again and they were still shocking. ‘Creep away and hide. Don’t come out until I call you.’
‘What if they take you away?’ the girl whispered. ‘Who’ll look after me?’
‘Go!’ Tali hissed, and turned to face them.
The man with the black hair was far bigger than any Pale man, the other fellow more normal-sized. Both wore swords and looked as though they knew how to use them. Both were richly dressed, and therefore noble or wealthy. Tali knew that not all Hightspallers could be trusted but they did not look like hard men. She swallowed and turned towards them. They were her people. Surely they would help her. But first she had to convince them that she was also noble …
‘Hello?’ she said, trying to smile.
They came through the bushes. What was she to say? How could she prove herself to them? Tali wasn’t used to meeting new people. In Cython she had known most of the slaves she worked with all her life. What if these men wouldn’t listen?
Her smile felt odd. The muscles had not been used in a long time. She needed their help but must also appear proud and confident, for she was a lady now and would never act like a cringing slave again. Did ladies go barefoot out of doors? She suppressed her anxiety — surely a lady was a lady no matter how she was dressed.
As the black-haired man stepped into the clearing, Tali moved back involuntarily. His face was flushed — he looked as though he had been arguing. And he was even bigger than Tinyhead; she had never seen any man like him. Most Pale men were small and thin, their skin mottled with bruises and scars. Many had teeth missing and feet misshapen from rock falls in the mines.
This fellow was handsome, appeared well fed and looked as though he owned the world, yet there was something soft, almost melting in his eyes. Some trouble that made him seem vulnerable, that made her warm to him, though … no, the thought was gone.
‘I’m Rix, of House Ricinus,’ he said, holding his hands up to show that they were empty. ‘Don’t be afraid.’
Tali did not realise how engagingly the damp gown clung to her. Having lived her life among female slaves, where no one wore more than a loincloth and male visits to the mated women were doled out even more meagrely than dinner rations, she was ignorant of the effect her figure might have on the opposite sex. Nonetheless, she found him disturbing. His eyes kept drifting towards her, then flicking away as if he did not want to look at her.
‘I’m not afraid. I’m home now.’
Even the baked lands of the Seethings were part of Hightspall. It still did not seem possible that she could be here, and free. Had her legs not been so sore, she would have danced for joy.
‘My friend is Tobry Lagger,’ said Rix, indicating the man behind him. ‘Who are you?’
‘I am Thalalie of House vi Torgrist,’ said Tali, formally, for that was how she imagined a lady would speak. She bowed; she was determined to put the life of a slave behind her forever. She paused so Rix would have the opportunity to recognise her noble name, then added, to be friendly, ‘But you may call me Tali.’
Now he would help her, and the Cythonians would hardly dare to take him on.
Tobry chuckled. Unlike Rix, he was not at all handsome, especially with those bruised and blistered eye sockets, though he had a pleasantly craggy face. His arms and legs were scratched, and through a tear in his shirt she saw that his left shoulder was bandaged. Both men looked as though they had been in a fight and she wondered about that.
Rix’s brow wrinkled and he turned to Tobry, murmuring, vi Torgrist? Tobry said something that Tali did not catch and Rix turned back to her.
‘Ta-lee.’ He might have been tasting her name with his tongue.
‘I can see that you are gentlemen. Would you be so kind as to escort me to my family’s manor?’ Tali did not mention Rannilt; first, she had to be sure it was safe for her to come out.
Rix choked. ‘Gentlemen!’
Tobry laughed ironically. Rix glowered at him.
‘I beg your pardon,’ said Tali. Had she unwittingly offended them? ‘Is something the matter?’
‘My friend is noble,’ said Tobry, and the mischievous humour in his eyes made her smile. ‘Rix is heir to the vast wealth and endless estates of House Ricinus.’ He pronounced the name with weighty import. ‘One day he will be Lord Ricinus, one of the most powerful men in all Hightspall. Therefore he finds the term gentleman a trifle … er, vulgar.’
Tali went through the list of ancient noble houses her mother had made her memorise as a child. ‘House Ricinus?’ she said, frowning. ‘Is that a new House?’
Rix’s jaw tightened and his eyes went flinty. ‘How can you not know of House Ricinus? For a hundred years — ’
He broke off, breathing heavily, but regained control of himself and forced a smile. His gaze passed down her gown to her bare feet, up again, but flicked away once more. What was the matter with him?