Her hair was shorter and done in a style not unlike some men wore theirs. It was not unattractive, but Willem preferred it long.
“Your uncle is a man of impeccable taste,” he said, “or so I’ve heard.”
She smiled and let a sigh of relief pass her lips.
“It pleases me that you like it,” she said, then met his eyes again.
Willem unbuttoned his long tunic and at the same time kicked off his shoes. She watched him with an amused smile, like a child watching a puppet show. He laughed a little, and so did she.
When he reached out a hand to her she crossed the space faster than he’d expected. Before he could take a breath their mouths came together then their tongues. His hands explored the richness of the lace she wore while hers relieved him of the rest of his clothes.
“Tell me something,” she whispered into his ear.
She had come to know that Willem told her things he told no one else, and he knew that she kept his trust. He felt open to her, vulnerable, but unlike any other person he’d ever known, with her that feeling was a pleasant one.
“They’re building it,” he whispered into her neck.
She took his hand, placed it gently on one of her breasts, and said, “The keep?”
He nodded, the tip of his tongue tracing an arc on her neck as he moved and replied, “Precisely where Devorast wanted it.”
“And the master builder?” she asked as she turned him so that she was between him and the bed.
He stepped closer to the bed, gently pushing her along with him and he said, “Taking all the credit as usual.”
“But spending time there,” she whispered as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“Leaving my afternoons free,” he said, looking down on her.
They shared a smile, and he ran the fingers of his free hand through her soft hair.
“Someday,” she said, a hopeful glint sparkling in her eyes, “you can tell him yourself that you like it.”
“Your uncle?” he asked, and she nodded.
He bent to kiss her, and as he did her hands found his thighs.
“We’ll meet in time,” he said.
“When you’re better established,” she replied, repeating the lines they’d spoken to each other over and over again since the Claws of the Cold, “and I’ll meet your mother then to.”
“And we’ll be married,” he said, drawing the thin silk strap of her negligee down along her shoulder.
“And we’ll be together,” she whispered, then started to kiss his stomach, her warm, full lips teasing his flesh.
“Forever,” he said, then stopped talking when her playful kisses became something else entirely.
27
8 Uktar, the Year of Maidens (1361 DR)
FIRST QUARTER, INNARLITH
Fharaud eventually stopped being surprised by how much pain someone could get used to. Even then, some days were better than others. He had grown accustomed to other things, too, including the smell of his own sick room.
What he couldn’t get used to, what he hoped more than anything he would never get used to, was being cared for by others.
Djeserka was a slightly better than average pupil who had become simply an average shipbuilder. He designed the same coasters, cogs, and fishing boats they’d been building in Innarlith for a century or more, and they were seaworthy, and Fharaud had heard his customers were satisfied, so there it was. Fharaud tried to convince himself that he’d done a good thing making Djeserka the shipbuilder he was. After all, without the mediocre setting a sort of sea level, how could one recognize greatness?
“Is there anything else I can get for you, Fharaud?” Djeserka asked.
Fharaud looked up and met the younger man’s pitying gaze. Djeserka looked at him with doe eyes, wet and sentimental.
“Is someone else …?” Djeserka started, uncomfortable making eye contact with his former mentor.
“Yes, yes,” Fharaud said, “someone else is coming to look in on me. Thank you.”
Djeserka nodded, still uncomfortable.
“You are kind to look in on your old employer,” said Fharaud, “and to help pack my things.”
Djeserka nodded and forced a little smile.
“But there may be …” Fharaud started.
Djeserka said, “Anything, Fharaud, really. You know I owe my career to your advice and for your taking a chance on me at all all those years ago.”
Fharaud waved him off with a painfully weak twist of a wrist and said, “A small favor, then, though in truth I think it’s I who will be doing you a favor in the long run.”
Djeserka pulled up a low stool and sat at Fharaud’s bedside, curiosity overcoming his discomfort so he could finally look his old master in the eyes.
“I’m all ears,” Djeserka said.
“There’s a young man,” Fharaud said. “He’s no older now than you were when we first started working together. He helped me to build Everwind.”
“Devorast?” Djeserka guessed.
Fharaud nodded-and that hurt-and said, “He’s stayed with me through … all that’s happened, and it’s been hard on him. He’s too young to be where I am, though-at the end of his career-and he needs … he needs …”
Djeserka smiled and nodded, then so did Fharaud.
Though no more was said on the subject, Fharaud felt they had an understanding. The rest of the afternoon was spent on vapid small talk, and finally Djeserka stood to go. He opened the door just as Devorast walked up. After a few minutes’ worth of uncomfortable greetings and introductions, both of Fharaud’s former students sat at the small round table, their chairs turned to face Fharaud’s sick bed in the old shipbuilder’s one-room quayside hovel.
“So, Devorast,” Djeserka said, “Fharaud tells me that with his … retiring … your services are available to other shipbuilders.”
Devorast looked at Fharaud-of course he was smart enough to know that Fharaud was behind this sudden turn of events. Fharaud just winked at him.
Devorast looked at Djeserka and nodded.
“We’ve been very busy of late,” Djeserka went on, “and we’ve developed quite a tight-knit shop. Fharaud’s recommendation is more than enough for me. If you’re prepared to be a part of our team, to satisfy the needs of our customers be they a grand foreign navy or a simple smelt fisherman, well … what do you say?”
Fharaud held his breath. He’d completely forgotten to speak with Djeserka about Ivar Devorast’s iconoclastic personality, and the man had gone and said precisely the wrong things.
Devorast looked at Fharaud with a question in his eyes. It was plain that he was asking for Fharaud’s advice-but that just couldn’t be.
Fharaud met Devorast’s gaze, though, and nodded. Still, he was sure of the look on Devorast’s face: a brief glimpse of irritation quickly suppressed and replaced with a desire for advice.
Devorast, nodding at Fharaud, said to Djeserka, “I am always interested in new challenges. If you have something for me to do.”
“Good,” Djeserka said. “Come to my workshop tomorrow morning.”
Fharaud smiled, an expression shared by Djeserka but not Devorast.
“You can’t have come to my attention at a better time, actually,” Djeserka said. “It appears that I will have a seat in the senate in the next year. My team will have to work harder and work together as best as possible, but if I’m busy with the senate, those left behind will not only learn more, but one will replace me sooner rather than later.”
Devorast seemed not to have heard him. He did clasp forearms with Djeserka, though, as Devorast showed him to the door, and they both paused.
“For Fharaud’s sake,” Djeserka whispered. Devorast nodded.
“If you’re half again as good as they say you are,” Djeserka said, “and if it’s true that Everwind fell victim to treachery and not … Well, who knows? When I become Senator Djeserka those left behind in the boat shop will have to squabble amongst themselves for the business I leave behind. Well, the right man can ride it as far as I have.”