[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.But that was a long time ago.This time, his hands carefully freed her hair from the loops, and it fell to its full length, brushing her back.She waited patiently for Mandir to gather it back up again, but instead he fiddled with something behind her.“Well?” she said.“What’s going on?”“Just a minute,” said Mandir.“I’m figuring out how the headdress works.”Taya turned in her chair.“You’ve never done this before? And you think you can do it better than me?”“Taya,” said Mandir, “anyone could do this better than you.”Taya faced forward with a sigh.Somehow Mandir’s pestering her about wanting to fix her headdress had given her the idea he’d done this for other women—a series of past lovers at Rakigari, perhaps, or one favored lover he’d been with a long time.She wasn’t sure which thought bothered her more.It was something of a relief to learn he did not know headdresses, although she did not doubt he had known women.Finally he reached for her and began to gather up her hair.Taya swallowed.She had always thought Mandir a rough, crude sort of man and expected his touch to be similarly harsh and unpleasant.But he handled her as gently as imported silk.His fingers brushed her neck as he swept up her hair, divided it, and worked out a tangle.His light touch was so pleasant that she had to restrain herself from leaning into his hands.“You’ve got it backward,” she said.“The hair goes in the other way.”“Oh.So it does.” He withdrew her hair from the loops, let it go, and started over, unhurried and unflustered.Somehow, after all these years of knowing Mandir, she’d failed to understand certain things about him.She’d noticed his clothes and hair were always perfect, but she’d attributed it to vanity, not to his being a careful, patient man who paid close attention to details.When he finally had the headdress in place, she could tell he’d done a good job because it was comfortable and perfectly centered, not pulling to one side or the other, yet he seemed dissatisfied.He made some adjustments, viewed it from several angles, and adjusted it again.She didn’t mind that he was taking a while.Every time his hand brushed her skin, he set it afire, stirring a desire in her that had long lain dormant.She hadn’t realized how much she hungered for the touch of another human being.Not Mandir’s, necessarily.As a young girl, she and her sisters had cuddled up in one bed at night like a heap of kittens.She missed that.And she was too old for it now.Perhaps she should seek a lover in Hrappa.The thought seemed ludicrous—everyone hated her here—but one never knew; she might find someone she liked, someone who could see beyond the green and silver to the person underneath.It was past time she found a lover.Flood and fire, she was twenty-three years old! Coalition women enjoyed an unusual amount of sexual freedom.Her magic allowed her to postpone pregnancy until she chose to bear children, and her family could not compel her to marry.Her body was hers to do with as she pleased.She’d turned away the men at Mohenjo, for obvious reasons, and of course Mandir was out of the question, but there might be some man in town with whom she might satisfy some mutual desires, at least on a temporary basis until she could find somebody suitable for the long term.“There,” said Mandir.“What do you think?”Taya rose from the chair, fetched her sheet of polished copper, and looked.She was astonished.She’d never seen a headdress look so perfect.Of course, she had to allow, it was easier putting a headdress on someone else than putting it on one’s own head.“It looks nice.”“Nice,” mocked Mandir.“Admit it.That’s the best your headdress has ever looked.”It was, but Taya wasn’t going to admit it.∞“You can’t go there,” said Rasik.“The water’s running too high.”“The sun’s up and the water level’s falling,” Taya argued, as the black mare danced anxiously beneath her.“I’m not concerned about more flooding—”“The place where Narat died is completely underwater,” said Rasik.Taya exchanged a look with Mandir.“I can’t scry a site when it’s underwater.We’ll have to go somewhere else.”“The third victim,” suggested Mandir.“Yes,” said Taya, turning to Rasik.“Take us to the family of the third murder victim.What was the father’s name?”“The brother.Zashkalim isu Ikkarum.He had custody of his sister,” said Rasik.“He’s a farmer,” said Taya, pleased.Finally she would be in her own element.She looked at the sun, which was high in the sky.“Will he be available to see us?” During the growing season, most farmers spent the day outside the city walls, working in the fields, and would not receive visitors until sundown.“This one might be,” said Rasik.“He’s rich, has people working for him.Lives outside Hrappa.”Taya’s curiosity was piqued.She was aware there were some farmers who’d overcome the limitations of their caste to become wealthy, although she’d never known any personally.The caste system didn’t consign farmers to be poor so much as it limited what they could do with their lives.Only those in the ruling caste could hold positions of governance, only those in the artisan caste were eligible to learn trades, and only those in the farmer caste could lay claim to lands outside the city walls and work them.Some farmers didn’t actually grow food, but mined the land for ore or harvested trees for timber.She was curious how this Zashkalim isu Ikkarum had managed to enrich himself off the land.It wasn’t commonly done [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]