Safar felt his temper rise and quickly doused it. But he has agreed to sponsor me at the university, hasn't he? he asked, indicating the letter.
"My Master said that was his intent, the major domo answered. Funds will be deposited for your care. He has the Lord Coralean's promise of repayment for any necessary expenses. The major domo paused for emphasis, then said, But he said to warn you not to take advantage of his good nature and friendship with Lord Coralean. My Master's charity will only extend so far. So do not return here for more. Do I make myself clear?"
Safar wanted to throw the letter into the man's sneering face. But he'd made promises he couldn't break and so he swallowed his pride and turned away without comment. The next day, after a night of angry teeth-grinding, he made his way to the Grand Temple of Walaria.
The route took him through the heart of the great crossroads city and the sights and scents and sounds were enthralling. The crowds were thick, barely making room for cursing wagon drovers ladened with market goods. Except for irritated grunts when he bumped into them, the people ignored himkeeping their heads low so as not to meet another's eyes. The traffic flow carried him past beggars crying alms, alms for the sake of the gods, and open windows framing scantily clad women who called for the blushing boy to come tarry in their arms. There were shops with luxurious carpets and rich jewelry mixed with coffee houses and opium stalls. Thieves of all ages and sexes darted in and out of the crowd, snatching at opportunity.
And all the while cart pushers sang out their wares and with the drums and bells and whistles of the street entertainers it made a thrilling song: Pea-Nuts! Pea-Nuts, Salted And Hot! Or, Rose Pud-Ding! Rose Pud-Ding. Sweet As The Bud! And, Sher-Bet Iced So Nice! Sher-Bet Iced So Nice!"
The Grand Temple and University was so vast it made a walled city of its own. It had a wide gateless archway for an entrance with fearsome monsters carved in the stone. There were no guards and men dressed in priestly togas or rough student robes poured in and out with the single-minded purpose of bees tending a forest hive. Safar asked directions and soon was making his way through the confusion of temple buildings to the busy office of the High Clerk. There he presented his sponsor's letter and was again commanded to wait.
This time he was ready. He'd brought food and drink and an old stargazer's book to while away the hours. His supplies as well as the day were gone and he'd memorized the book by the time a skinny priest with prunish lips and a rushed manner returned with an answer.
"Come with me, come with me, he said. And he turned and raced away without waiting to see if Safar was following.
Safar had to hurry to catch him. Have I been accepted, Master? he asked.
"Don't call me master. Don't call me master, the priest chided. Holy one will do. Holy one will…"
"Pardon my ignorance, Holy One, Safar broke in. Have I been accepted to the school?"
"Yes, yes. This way, now. This way now."
Safar was led to a large empty dining hall with stone, food-encrusted floors.
The priest said, Scrub it down. Scrub it down. He pointed at a wooden bucket of greasy water with a brush floating on top.
Safar looked and by the time he raised his head the priest had darted off. Wait, Holy One! he shouted after him. But the little priest had already gone out the door, slamming it behind him.
Safar fetched the bucket and brush and got on his knees and scrubbed. As a village lad he saw no shame in necessary labor, no matter how mean the task. He scrubbed for hours, making little headway because the water was as filthy as the floor. At spellsong an older acolyte came to take him to a huge dormitory, crammed with first-year students. He was given a blanket, a place to stretch out on the bare floor and a rusty metal pail containing a cold baked potato, a hard wheat roll and a boiled egg.
While he wolfed the food down the acolyte gave him a quick summery of his duties, most of which seemed to involve scrubbing dirty floors.
"When do my studies begin? Safar asked.
The acolyte laughed. They've already started, he said. And he left without further explanation.
Safar had learned long ago from Gubadan that teachers liked to make obscure points. Very well, he thought, if floor scrubbing is my first lesson, so be it. He scrubbed for a month, lingering as he toted buckets of water past foul-smelling workshops and lecture halls that echoed with the wise orations of master priests.
Then Umurhan summoned him and he never had to scrub another floor again.
Safar drifted out of his reverie. He rubbed his eyes, noting the view through the window had been replaced by glistening stars. He saw a comet tail just near the House of the Jester and became absorbed in the astral meaning of the occurrence. Then he heard a sounda scratching at his door. Through a fog of concentration it came to him that he'd heard this sound only a moment before. And he thought, Oh, yes… I was thinking about Umurhan and something interrupted me. And that something was a noise at my door.
He heard a voice call, Safar? Are you awake?"
It was a young voice. Safar puzzled, then smiled as he realized who it was. Come in, he said.
CHAPTER TEN
On the other side of the rough plank door Nerisa hastily combed fingers through her hair and straightened her clothes. She wore a short loose tunic that showed off her long legs, belted tightly about her small waist to draw attention away from her boyish figure. The gray tunic and pale leggings were castoffs, but the cloth was of such good quality that the patches barely showed.
"That is Nerisa, isn't it? came Safar's voice. She heard him laugh. If it's some rogue instead, you're wasting your energies, O friend of the night. For I've spent all my money on drink and other low pursuits."
Nerisa giggled and pushed the door open. Safar was grinning at her from the other side of the room, lolling on the windowsill, white student robes hiked up over his strong mountaineer's legs. Nerisa thought she'd never seen such a handsome young man. He was tall and slender, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, accented by his red acolyte's belt. His skin was olive; his nose curved gracefully over full lips. His dark hair was cut close, with a stray curl dangling over eyes so blue they had melted her heart when she first looked into them.
He beckoned her to the window. I've just sighted a comet, he said pointing out at the star-embedded heavens.
She came to him, leaning over his sprawled out legs so she could see.
"Right there, he said, directing her. In Harlethe House of the Jester."
She saw the long, narrow constellation of Harle, with its distinctive peaked hat and beaky-nosed face. Crossing at about chin level was the wide pale streak of a comet's tail.
"I see it, she said, voice trembling from being so close to Safar. Troubled, she drew away, turning her head so he wouldn't see her blush. I hope I wasn't bothering you, she said.
"Nonsense, Safar replied. I'm lonely for my sisters. If you ever meet them don't you dare say I told you that. They'd never let me forget it. He chuckled. But I do miss them. There, I've said it. I grew up surrounded by my sisters and now I pine for them. I hope you don't mind being a substitute."
Nerisa minded very much! She wasn't quite sure exactly what reactions she wanted from Safar but she could say most definitely brotherly feelings were not among them.
She put a hand on her hip, trying to look as adult female as possible. If you miss women so much, Safar Timura, she said, bold as she dared, why don't I ever see you with one? Except me, of course. She unconsciously touched her hair. The other students spend all the time they can chasing women at the brothels."