He opened the door again suddenly, and the women jumped. I could see he had been bullying them.
“In,” he said, “and hurry. Do as I told you and she tells you. She has the last word on it. I want it done by sunset at the latest.”
He strode out, and I saw the male equivalent of the female victims start frantically after him down the corridor to Ellak’s room.
They had brought materials with them, Darak’s choosing, and at first I had thought his gaudy bandit’s tastes would have doomed me to freakishness. But he was a cunning man. He knew at least what not to wear in a merchant’s circle, even if his soul cried out in deprivation. I could see he had even been afraid of his own judgment when he had picked out this stuff. Each cloth shown me was of a plain and muted color, and thereby he had erred the other way. But I found the beauty of the pile at last, a heavy silk, the luminous white of alabaster. There was measuring then, and a lot of fuss. Thankfully, what was elegant in Ankurum was also simple, a sleeveless dress dipped low at front and back, fitted to a little beneath the breasts, then falling in free folds to the feet. There were sandals for these, bleached leather with gold
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studs, and already one of the women was stitching at something, a new shireen, this time of black silk.
Between measurings, I bathed, sharing my bath with the numerous swimming beetles that lived in the sides of the tub.
By late afternoon I was dressed. They had been most industrious, and clever also, as the mirror they had brought showed me. The hairdresser, who had been preparing her perfumes and combs and heating her tongs intermittently in the fire for hours, flew at me in terror of Darak’s ultimatum. She rubbed my hair through with a sweet scented oil, combed and brushed it down, then tonged every strand into corkscrew curls. Most of these she piled on my head in loops and coils. What was left, hanging free down my back, twisted like contorted serpents. Most women, she informed me, would use false hair in such a style, but knowing she had no match for the milk-whiteness of mine, she had contrived it without. This was due probably to the thickness of my hair, but no doubt she had earned a little extra for her quickness.
Darak came in without a knock, and the women jumped up in a flurry. He inspected me, then grinned, and paid them rather generously and shoved them out. He shut the door and leaned on it, looking at me. He had acquired a tunic during the afternoon, black, ribbed with black velvet, again, very discreet, but he looked well in it. There were agate buckles on his new boots.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. He came and sniffed at my hair. “Beautiful,” he said again. His hand slid across the skin of my neck and arm. “White on white. You were clever to choose that. Your smooth skin-it never browns or reddens. Or scars,” he added. His fingers moved again. He remembered even now where Shullatt had stabbed me, though all trace was gone. Suddenly he stood back, his face a little stiff.
“I brought you this.”
I took the piece of silk, opened it. I stared down into a cool green deep; eight oval eyes stared back at me. All of me reached toward it, but I wished, in that time of blindness, that he had not bought me jade to make me see. They had favored jade, and I had not worn what I took from Shullatt since we left Kee-ool.
“Don’t you like it?” He was vulnerable with the giving.
“Yes,” I said, “more than anything.”
“I’ve heard you talk of jade in your sleep.” He came close to me, and fastened it around my throat. So cool it was, eight eyes of water set in shores of gold.
“Darak,” I said softly.
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“Darros,” he corrected me, “and don’t forget.” He kissed my throat. “Put on a ring or two, the gold ones, perhaps that gold bracelet Maggur stole for you from his woman in the wood camp.”
I did as he said. It was not gaudy, but added a certain richness to the plain white of the dress. I put on too the black shireen, as beyond the narrow window the sun sank red on the roofs of Ankurum.
Maggur and Gleer and a few of the “guard” went with us, riding the pick of the horses. Ellak, Darak, and I rode in some carriage hired for the purpose, a stuffy rickety conveyance behind two fat ponies. Darak and Ellak fidgeted uneasily in the closed-up interior. Ellak also wore new black, and had trimmed his beard and eyebrows and presumably washed more strenuously than was his wont. He, too, looked handsome, amazingly.
The carriage jolted noisily.
“The rain’s finished. We’ll walk back,” Darak vowed.
2
I suppose to men like Darak, uncertainty is life, and danger the wine of life. Then, caught up in it, infected by his excitement and coolness, I did not really understand the foolishness of what we did.
The agent’s house was at the “garden” end of Ankurum, high up, with splendid views from every window, and terraced walks where little fountains tinkled, and tame, brightly colored birds strutted. Alabaster lamps glowed in the portico, through which a steward ushered us. There were murals of naked dancing girls on the walls. I could see Ellak restraining ribaldries. Maggur and the others remained outside. It would be a dull evening for them unless they could start up a dice game or a fight with the other grooms and servants abandoned to nearby taverns.
Beyond the entrance hall, double doors led into a spacious room from which other spacious rooms led away. Here, among the hanging garlands of flowers, guests wandered, talking politely to each other, and elegantly sipping wine and picking bits from passing trays of savories and sweets.
Ellak regarded the scene uneasily. Darak looked arrogant with impatient irritation. A servant came to us.
“Darros of Sigko, sir?”
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Darak nodded.
The servant, with a flourish or two, conducted us among the guests, most of whom turned to stare, around several ornamental indoor fountains, and up a flight of steps. Here our host, a bulbous shining man, greeted Darak with a cool warmth, and glanced in astonishment at me.
“You’re most welcome, Darros, most welcome. I am so glad that you could come.”
Darak’s eyebrows twitched disdainfully as he smiled.
“My pleasure.”
“And your companions …” The smallish eyes slid back to me. He was fascinated and repelled at once. If I were a tribal woman, I might so easily be uncouth. Plains warriors and their wives were not often seen in Ankurum, but when they came they were treated always as savages.
“This is my lady,” Darak said. It was a socially acceptable term for mistress. Nevertheless the agent flinched.
“I am honored by your invitation,” I said, and he relaxed at once.
“Can it be you come from the north too?” he inquired wonderingly, but his eyes were slipping happily to my breasts.
“Yes,” I said, “despite my low birth among the tribes, my education has been entirely adequate.”
Darak grinned quite openly. “I believe there are people here for me to meet,” he said.
“Indeed. But first, the food. Then the entertainment.”
Darak nodded. “Of course.”
The agent’s eyes rolled around to Ellak now, who had plucked three wine cups from a passing tray, and was draining them one after the other.
The meal was served quite soon, though not perhaps soon enough for Ellak, who fell upon it like a starving vulture. Other guests watched in alarm as he stuffed roast meat into his mouth and mopped up the gravy running into his beard with pieces of the fancy bread. Darak, irritated, and perhaps made a little unsure of himself by the flimsy crystal quality of town manners, made no attempt to check him. He himself ate lightly, and I only picked at things as was usual with me, but Ellak burped his way through every course, with an appetite which would have done credit to all three. I had never noticed this particular appetite before among others who ate like wolves, but here it brought a hush on half the room.
The eating took place in a vast dining area, hung with clusters of candles. The couches were low and cushioned, the
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tables also low, and everything formed a rough semicircle around the sectioned marble floor. Here jugglers and dancers and acrobats performed to the beat of small drums, the hollow reed sound of pipes.
, As the last dishes were removed, last finger bowls and napkins supplied and fresh trays of wine and sweets served, the innermost section of the marble floor sank inward and down. This sinking device must have been a new addition to the agent’s house, and received some applause. Servants ran to the candle clusters, drew them down on their cords, and dowsed them. Slowly, the floor section began to rise again. The light was very dim, with a slight smoky redness and a smell of incense. The section leveled and I saw what lay on it. A naked woman, her white body painted all over with silver leaves, a net of scarlet jewels between her thighs. As she rose to her feet I saw how she had colored her face-white lips but scarlet glistening lids as if fresh blood had welled from them. But it was the snake which held me. A gasp went up all around. The guests were riveted. A few women squealed, but did not look away. It, too, was red and white, at least as wide as the woman’s waist and twenty feet or more in length. A music began, slow and liquid, dripping from one cadence to another, wrapping itself as sinuously around the woman as did the snake. They were dancing together, winding and twisting about each other. She was one of those that are double jointed; it was no trouble for her to be a serpent too. Suddenly a man came leaping from some door in the far wall, out among the guests. He jumped into the center of the floor, turning somersaults, while the woman leaned before him wound around with the snake, waiting.