Authors: Convergence
They both enjoyed a nice long soak, but neither of them actually fell asleep. The relaxing warmth made them ready for bed, though, and going back to their rooms was uneventful. The men still hadn't gotten back, which Jowi found faintly disappointing. She'd decided it shouldn't hurt to get to know Lorand Coll a
l
ittle
better, as long as she didn't do anything silly like fall in love with him.
And that she certainly wouldn't do, not when she had so many other things to decide about.
Would they ever get to the point where they would no longer have to pass the tests to stay alive? That was Jowi's most pressing question as she snuggled down comfortably in bed. After that came all the other questions she and Tamrissa had discussed, a list too long to be considered when she was half asleep. Tomorrow she'd think about it again, and maybe even discuss it with one or two of the men. It would be a good excuse to get Lorand Coll alone, but not Valiant Ro. Tamrissa actually liked him, although she wasn't up to admitting it even to herself.
Tomorrow, tomorrow she'd think about all of it. . . .
Twenty-five
Clarion awoke slowly, which let his memories of the night before return just as slowly. He had a small headache somewhere behind his eyes, but lying still seemed to placate it enough to keep it from being a problem. The ache made no effort to interfere with his thinking, which was definitely a blessing; the confusion he felt was interference enough.
Thinking about it now let Clarion appreciate just how much he'd had to drink the night before, which simply added to his confusion. He'd been told that drinking to excess would make him ill, cause him to embarrass himself dreadfully, and then would lay him out as if he were a very small child. Having no wish to encounter any of those eventualities, he'd made a habit of following the advice he'd been given: to drink only the best
wines,
and no more than half a cup even then. But last night he'd all but swum in brew, and none of the expected had happened.
He raised his arms and gently ran both hands through his hair, his thoughts centering instead on the
un
expected. He'd decided that if he watched the others and did as they did he'd begin to learn what he needed to know, but he'd never anticipated anything like last night. He felt as if he'd floated through it, half a participant and half an observer, actually performing those acts while at the same time watching it all from a short distance off. That must be because of the way he'd acted, unlike anything someone who knew him would have recognized.
"And I'm still not sure where it came from," he muttered, gingerly touching the memories with his mind as if they were soap bubbles, delicate and apt to burst to nothingness if handled too roughly. "Maybe one of those foolish books. . . ."
The same servant who had taught him how to exercise his body had given him books to read, but not the sort he got from his tutor or Mother. Those were fantastic adventure novels with strong men rescuing beautiful, delicate ladies from peril, and then doing obscure, enigmatic things that they both enjoyed. Clarion had never understood what those things were, so he hadn't been overly upset when his mother had found him reading one and had insisted that he promise never to touch another of that sort again.
But now . . .
Now he knew what those enigmatic things were, and felt a brief but very intense burst of outrage that he'd been kept from them so long. He'd lain with that lovely, dark-haired girl the way those heroes had lain with the ladies they'd rescued, and the writer's words hadn't been nearly adequate enough to describe the pleasure to be had. Men did that with ladies all the time, Coll had said, but before last night he hadn't even known it was possible. And after having had the experience he felt different, somehow, more relaxed and in some obscure manner not the same man. What he'd turned into wasn't clear at all, but there was no doubt about his being different.
But he also remembered something else Coll had said, which still made no sense at all. Clarion sat up slowly and massaged his left shoulder, wondering what Coll could possibly have had in mind when he'd warned Clarion not to hurt the dark-haired girl. After the pleasure she'd given him he would have had to have been a twisted beast to harm her, even if provoked. But there'd been no provocation, only her gentle voice wishing him well just before he left her. And in any event it was Mother's lacks, not the girl's, which had kept him from learning the truth sooner . . .
For a moment Clarion felt a jolt of shock that he'd considered Mother as someone with lacks, and then a touch of guilt came. Yes, he'd thought of Mother as lacking, and couldn't deny that truth no matter how upset learning of it would have made her. He was less of a man, less of a person, than even his lower-class companions, and the fault was no one's but hers. She should have found a gentleman of their own class to tutor him, not that stiff, elderly female creature who had lived her life in semi-seclusion amid her textbooks.
Clarion got out of bed and went to wash his face, needing the touch of cool water when his thoughts reached a point he now understood only too well. He remembered asking Coll why they'd had to leave so early, and Coll had gently put him off. Now, without the floating caused by
all that
brew, he understood clearly why they'd had to leave. Those people in the tavern had been afraid of them, and all because of what they'd done to stop that roughhousing. At one point in his life Clarion would have-gloried in being feared by others, a condition he'd considered far superior to being laughed at by them. But now that he'd had the experience, he realized how childishly narrowminded he'd been. It wasn't satisfying to be feared, it was depressing, and not only because their excellent carouse had been interrupted.
Clarion buried his face in the hand towel he'd taken from its place beside the wash basin, trying to assimilate and make sense of the suddenly unpleasant situation he now found himself in. His life until today had been a lonely one, but he'd had hopes of seeing all that changed. He'd made up his mind to learn what he needed to in order to be like everyone else, but the cold truth was that he
wasn't
like everyone else and never would be. Those people last night were certainly low class drudges and meaningless nonentities, but they had one thing in common with the nobles he'd been raised among: neither group contained members even slightly familiar with those who were as much as Middle practitioners. Highs were completely beyond them, aside from rumor and gossip and endless suspicion.
"I can't imagine why I never noticed that before," Clarion mused, frowning down at the table. "Everyone
talks
about Middles and Highs and some even know where practicing Middles live and work, but they never turn up at parties even as novelties. Middles aren't quite good enough even if they're members of our class, and Highs are much too busy with truly important matters to be imposed upon. Or at least that was what everyone always said. . . ."
But now the likelier answer presented itself that his peers were just as frightened of Highs as the lowliest street sweeper. And the unpleasant fact was that he'd already done enough in passing that first test to guarantee that he'd never be allowed to attend a party again even if he were to return home today. They'd been parties where Mother had been invited that he'd simply been dragged to and been bored silly by, but even that would now be beyond him. He would be "one of
them,"
which is never the same as "one of us."
So Clarion now had some serious thinking to do. Going back to the way things had been would have been impossible for him even under ordinary circumstances, but at least then he would have had the option. Now he had to find an altogether different life for himself, preferably one that involved his power level equals as well as his social equals. That meant staying with this tiresome testing program and doing his utmost best, which should eventually end him among those he belonged with—
As well as secure him that position he'd been thinking about, the one that would make him financially independent. He paused before the room's wardrobe, trying to decide whether to breakfast first or bathe first. He felt badly in need of a long soak, but it wasn't early and breakfast might soon be cleared away. Very well, food first, and then the soak followed by a leisurely shave. He'd never been allowed to come to table without first having shaved, but financial independence would mean personal freedom as well.
Yes, that was definitely the route to go, he decided as he chose just anything to wear. Independence and freedom. . . .
With so many people in the house I hadn't expected a quiet morning, but that was just what I got. No one was in the dining room when I went down to breakfast, but I learned that Beldara Lant had been there before me. The men had returned after the rest of us were already in bed, so no one expected them down for a while. Jowi Hafford had apparently chosen to sleep late as well, so I ate alone except for my thoughts.
And what unexpectedly light thoughts they were, not to mention how odd they felt. After half a day of getting to know Jowi, I'd grown closer to her than I was with my own sisters. I'd told her things I'd never told anyone else, and I was sure she'd done the same with me. That had to be what people called friendship, something I'd never expected to experience personally. I no longer felt all alone in the world, and the difference it made in my outlook was incredible.
I sat back for a moment with my cup of tea, considering that changed outlook. Before yesterday afternoon, I would have been frantic to realize that something wasn't quite right with the system I'd been counting on to free me from my parents' influence. Now it was just a vexing problem that needed to be investigated, but nothing to get frantic over. If I couldn't become a High I'd do something else, me and the person who was now my
friend.
But I couldn't quite accept that something else being my becoming a courtesan.
I
laughed a little over the idea even as I felt my face warm, the mildest reactions I'd had yet to the suggestion. Even if what she'd said was true and there was pleasure to be had from men rather than pain, I couldn't see myself making that a career. Gimmis had always accused me of being exceptionally untalented in bed, and that was one opinion I'd never found reason to doubt—or particularly wanted to change-So the idea of my becoming a courtesan was ludicrous. I'd certainly
cost
Jowi more custom than I would bring in, but maybe she'd be able to use me as a lure of sorts. Men had always been attracted to my beauty, and it would be a definite kind of justice if for once I used the attraction for my own benefit rather than everyone else's. Yes, that was a real possibility. . . .
I finished breakfast while my thoughts wandered to improbable places, then went to the library and sat down to read. Second rest day was the time I'd begun to insist that no one intrude on my privacy, and the staff had finally learned that that included
their
problems. They were all quick enough to make sure their own rest days were undisturbed, but mine had tended to be open to the world. Now that I'd managed to get an entire day to myself, I felt reluctant to give it up—although the change in circumstance had to be considered. If everyone appeared for lunch I might have to share the afternoon, but the morning
was
going to be mine.
And I almost managed to keep that promise to myself. It was nearly an hour until lunchtime when a knock came at the door, and then my steward Weeks appeared.
"Please excuse the intrusion, Dama, but visitors have arrived," he announced in his stiff and distant way. "I attempted to suggest that you were unavailable, but they insisted."
"All right, I'll take care of it," I conceded with a sigh, putting my book aside as I rose from the chair. Weeks was really very good about guarding my private time, so blaming him for one failure wouldn't have been fair. Besides, it was probably some of the people from the testing authority, here to hand out more rules and requirements.
I stepped out into the hall expecting to see complete strangers, and stopped short when only one of the three new arrivals proved unknown. The other two were my parents, and the chills took me so quickly that I nearly shivered where they could see it. My mother saw me and smiled that gloating smile of hers, the one I hated so much, and that made my father turn away from the man I didn't know to look at me the way he always did.
I suddenly remembered how much I'd loved my father as a child, just the way all his friends and business associates loved him. He was a fairly tall man with hair as blond as mine, slightly overweight with a round and jolly face and warm gray eyes. It was extremely rare to see him without a smile, and his voice was never raised in anger. People had always joked privately that they were amazed his marriage to an ice princess like my mother had turned out so well, but apparently even ice princesses weren't immune to his charm.