The True Game by Sheri S. Tepper part two

He beamed at me and was gone, giving way to three struggling servitors, one bearing a tub on his back like some kind of half metallic turtle, the other two laden with tall ewers of water, one hot, one cold. All was set down and poured into and arranged to my satisfaction (to my annoyance, rather) before they trooped out to be succeeded by others bearing towels. I had never been so overserved in my life. Whether King Kelver was responsible or Vitior Queynt, I desired most heartily that all of them would leave me alone for a time.

But when I was scarce out of the tub¾which the same servitors had come to haul away with much gesticulation and pour with loud shouting down some drain or other¾the door was again tap-tapped and Jinian opened it a crack to whisper whether I were dressed or not. I told her I was not, but she came in anyhow. I was decent enough in the towel¾more decent than we had been together several times on the road.

“My, you are in a temper,” she said, seating herself on the bed and arranging her flounces. “Silkhands made me dress up. She said otherwise would be an affront to the King.”

“I am not in a temper,” I growled. “I am perfectly all right.”

She widened her eyes, played with her hair with one finger, fluttered and pouted. “Oh, ta-ta, Gamesman, but if you go on in this way, I will think I have offended you.” She laughed, a high, affected little titter, then spoiled the effect by sneezing with laughter. I could not help it, but laughed with her.

“No,” she went on. “You are in a temper. Do you know why?”

“Not really,” I growled, “except that Queynt is too sudden an addition to our journey, and Silkhands seems too ready to trust him. She has told him too much, I think. He knew I was a Shifter, though I am not dressed so. He knew we were being hunted. How else did he know but Silkhands told him? She knows better!”

“Put not yourself in another’s hands,” agreed Jinian. “But she may not have done. You know, Peter, I don’t think Silkhands wants to go on with you to Waeneye.”

I felt my face turn red. “Nonsense. Of course she does. She’s a little tired just now, but Silkhands would not let me go on alone to solve this thing.”

“I think you’re wrong,” she said, her voice breaking a little at sight of my face. “She would rather not go.”

“I have known Silkhands for years,” I said, stiffly, and even more angrily. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to attempt to tell me what my friends would or would rather not do as it concerns me. If Silkhands did not want to go to Waeneye, she would tell me. She has not told me. Has she told you?”

“No. Not in so many words.”

“Not in any words,” I asserted, slamming my hand down on the sill and hurting the thumb. This made me angrier still. “You are very young, Jinian. I’m afraid you do not understand the situation at all.” The last person I had heard use these honeyed tones was Laggy Nap, trying to poison me.

She did not answer. When I turned at last, it was to see a tear hanging on the fringe of her eyelashes, but she still regarded me steadily, even though her voice shook a little. “No. Perhaps I don’t.” And she turned to leave the room. In the door, she turned. “However, Peter, it was not that I came to talk to you about. I came to say it is easy to stop listening to Queynt. He talks so very much, to so little purpose. One stops hearing him. However, it would be wise for us to listen to him carefully at all times.” And she shut the door behind her, leaving me with my mouth open.

Oh, the ice and the wind and the seven devils, I said to myself. Now why did you do that?

You did that, I answered me, because Jinian is right. Silkhands does not want to go to Waeneye. Moreover, she does not want to journey like this at all. Moreover, her eyes when she looks at King Kelver are calm and considering, like the eyes of a cook choosing fresh vegetables for a banquet on which his reputation will rest. And the time when you and Silkhands might have been lovers is gone, Peter, and that is why you are angry.

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