“In the pavilion. Correct.”
“My men will eat at the inn. I’m ready to meet the Dynast, the sooner the better.”
The guard officer nodded. “Follow me, please.” Macurdy turned, called an order, and his men fell in behind the guardsmen while their commander rode beside his guide.
The pavilion, as he neared it, impressed him. Its vivid red, white, and gold roof and wall panels were brighter than he’d have thought possible. (He’d heard that among other things, the Sisterhood made expensive dyes.) Segments of the walls had been rolled up for ventilation. As he drew even with the inn, Macurdy gave another order and his men turned off, riding to the stable beside it. His air of confidence was so strong, so clean, that none of them faltered in leaving their shaman/commander unguarded. He turned the other way and followed his guide to the pavilion, where he dismounted, handing over his horse to a guardsman-orderly.
At the entrance, the leader of his escort reported to a Sister that this was Commander Macurdy. The woman disappeared inside, and two minutes later another came to meet him. For just a moment he thought she was Idri, whom he’d seen but once. But neither aura nor eyes fitted what he knew of her. An Idri look-alike, he realized, as Liiset looked like Varia.
“Commander Macurdy,” she said, “the Dynast will see you now.”
“Will she? I’m here at her invitation, and I’ve had a long ride. I need something to drink first, and take a crap.”
The woman’s aura hardly reacted to his deliberate crudity. “Drink and lunch are both served in the Dynast’s room,” she answered. “Oran will show you to the guards’ latrine.”
Macurdy didn’t really need to go. He’d been establishing his independence. Following Oran into the latrine, he released the little water he’d accumulated. There were washbasins on a trestle table, bars of white soap, and pitchers of water. On a fresh bar, the name “ivory” was stamped. From Farside then, probably brought from Ferny Cove.
When Oran returned him to the entrance, the woman still waited. “I don’t know your name,” he said.
“I am Lariin,” she answered.
“Lariin. Right. I’m ready.”
He went inside with her, feeling primed but at ease, and found himself in a corridor walled with golden yellow cloth. Its ceiling was much lower than the roof, to help keep the pavilion from overheating in the sun, he supposed. At the corridor’s end he found the Dynast in what he decided was a reception room, rather than her living quarters. Its furnishings seemed too fine for even such a tent as this: a handsome table, waxed and burnished, with inlaid squares of some pale wood, paler than white oak, alternating with what he recognized as black walnut: a mosaic of old ivory and rich dark brown. There were matched, upholstered chairs as well, and a small buffet. The room was open to the west, the direction of the breeze.
Three women got to their feet as he entered. Liiset. And Idri; that was a surprise. And what could only be the Dynast herself, looking physically no older than the others, though there could be no doubt she was. And somehow it seemed to him he had little to fear from her.
Her gaze was inscrutable, her aura calm. “So you are Curtis Macurdy,” she said.
“I am. And you’re Sarkia. And that ugly bitch on your right is Idri.” He turned his eyes to Varia’s kidnapper. “If I’d known back in Evansville what kind of vicious sow you are, I’d have wrung your humping neck and stuffed you down a privy.”
His gaze shifted to Sarkia. “Just so we understand each other.”
Idri flushed, her aura flaring dark with anger. Sarkia was coolly amused. “It seems I needn’t worry that you won’t speak your mind; Varia did an outstanding job of selecting her second husband. Had I been consulted, I’d have left her on Farside, with the understanding that she provide us with litters by you. There’d have been no difficulty in leaving one of each to gladden your personal lives there.
“But I can hardly condemn Idri, for if she hadn’t stolen Varia from you, I’d never have had this opportunity. You are even more—far more attractive to me as a leader and general than as the sire of children. Although my Sisters would be more than happy to provide you with company, if you’d like. I’m sure you’d find any of them quite accomplished in bed. And Liiset is much like Varia; she could warm your nights nicely until you get your wife back.” The Dynast eyed him appraisingly. “No? Perhaps Idri then. You could consider it revenge of a sort, and she’s notoriously good in bed.”