So much, so good, Adrian thought critically; suitable for a man of immense wealth and some pretension to culture. The statuary along the walls, one in each window bay, was far too much—just to begin with, most of it was loot from the Emerald cities, and from temples at that.
Only a Confederate Councillor would boast of having loot from temples in his study. The piece of Gellerix, the Goddess of Passion, was a case in point. Fine enough in one of Her temples, but a life-size marble depiction of the act of generation was scarcely conducive to philosophic calm in a place of learning.
Adrian shrugged, sighed, and walked around the statue to the row of legal case-scrolls he knew resided there. Then he stopped, turned on his heel and came again, coughing and clearing his throat.
Lady Tinia Redvers was composed and cool when he appeared for the second time, her long clinging silk gown—itself a violation of every sumptuary law the Confederacy Council had ever passed—draped as decorously as anything that sheer could be. She was a woman of about thirty-five, with a figure that would be plainly fat in another decade but was now on the ample side of superb, and a mass of black ringlets piled high on her head; she had the good taste to avoid more than a gold armring in the shape of a snake and ruby eardrops. The full-lipped features were amused as he bowed.
“Ah, the little Emerald . . . my bodyguard’s brother, aren’t you?”
“I have that honor, most excellent lady,” Adrian said, straightening.
Esmond was standing by the couch now, at a creditable parade rest; he was dressed in a studded belt of black leather, a breechclout of the same, high-strapped sandals and a sword and dagger; the hilts were rich with gold and sapphires, but the edges were functional enough. His long blond hair was tousled, and there was a red mark at the base of his neck. Adrian lifted a brow a fractional inch, enough for a grin between the brothers. He lifted it a bit more at Esmond’s look of well-hidden throttled fury.
“With you guarding us in the courts, and Esmondi’s sword, my husband and I are quite safe,” she said, and snapped her fingers.
Two maids in long plain gowns—plain Western Isle cotton that would have bought two good riding velipads—came from somewhere they’d been discreetly waiting. Lady Redvers swept away in a waft of lilac scent.
Adrian calmly walked along the row of scrolls and found Smanton’s Commentaries on Early Popular Assembly Edicts and Precedents Thereunto, sat on the couch and began reading, scrolling left to right.
“Bit distracting, all that perfume,” he said after a moment. “And are there foundation garments under that sheer silk? I find it hard to believe they stay up like that naturally.”
He looked up sharply at his brother’s growl. “Something’s wrong,” he said, a statement rather than a question.
“Of course something’s wrong,” Esmond growled, flushing and rubbing at his neck. “I didn’t come here to be a he-whore, for one thing.”
“No, you came to be a weapons trainer,” Adrian said. “Maybe you can teach our esteemed patron to use his double chin to throttle his opponents.”
“Wilder Redvers would fall down with an apoplexy if he ran three times around a training track, much less fought a bout in armor,” Esmond said bitterly. “It’s the fashion to have an Emerald weapons trainer, a victor of the Five Year Games. Next year it’ll be philosophers, or dancing dogs. And his wife—”
Adrian grinned. “Come now, it’s not as if she was eighty—and bodyguard is a perfectly respectable job here.” Insofar as being anything but a wealthy Confederate citizen was respectable. “And Wilder Redvers would fall down dead if he had to do that, as well.”
His smile died as Esmond looked around, making a careful sweep of the nearby parts of the library. “Brother, that isn’t why I asked you to meet me here—she just happened in, damn it. You’ve got to listen to me. This is serious.”
“What is serious?” Adrian said. “Beyond our patron’s imminent bankruptcy, conviction for extortion and malfeasance in office, and cordial invitation from the Conciliary Court to open his veins in the bath? And that’s the talk of the law courts, let me tell you.”