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The chains around Anat’s neck dug into his skin as he leaned against Sogetai, and he remembered, abruptly, that he had told Temechi he would clean himself tomorrow. The jewelry would get in the way.
Probably still tomorrow. Unless he’d slept for longer than he thought… No, Temechi had called his last meal a lunch, which meant he probably hadn’t been out long.
He still had time, then.
Anat’s hands shook as he reached for the clasps—easier said than done, anyway. The chains had tangled together, tangled with his hair, slipped this way and that. It took an age to find the first clasp, and then that necklace proved too snared by its fellows to come away easily.
He tried to tease it through the mess, but without the benefit of sight he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t making the tangle worse. Finally he let go of the necklace’s two ends, letting them fall over his chest. There was no use damaging them, but it still felt like a failure.
Be calm. Start from the beginning: he could not remove the necklaces while they were so tangled with his hair, not without ripping it out along with them. Start with that.
He had no comb, of course, so he would have to make do with his fingers. The loss of his old strength had not made them well-suited to delicate work—that would take practice, if it were allowed him. In trying to tease a knot apart he ripped it instead, and flinched from the sound, and thought himself ridiculous for flinching.
It was nothing the captain himself had done. But the sound—that was the same sound as when the thralls tasked with readying him for their master realized he was coming back sooner than expected, that they had no time to finish. That he had no time—
Breathe. He had time: he had until tomorrow. He put his fingers to his neck again.
“Can I help?” Sogetai asked, and after his start Anat realized he meant help him with his hair.
“Please do,” he said cautiously.
Of course he braced himself for pain. But Sogetai was gentle as he combed the tangles out of Anat’s hair, starting from the ends and working up, more patiently than Anat would have expected of him.
Anat had expected to be nervous with Sogetai directly behind him, hands on his head and neck, and he was—but not as much as he’d thought. To his own bemusement, he was actually comfortable enough to be bored. He found himself reaching for his datapad—his reach fell short, but Sogetai probably wouldn’t mind if he moved his torso as well—
Trust was a dangerous thing, especially now that Anat had no armor left but his wariness. He let his hands fall in his lap, and concentrated on sitting still, breathing evenly.
“I did this for my sister,” Sogetai said, quite suddenly. “When we were children on Chogoris. Her name now is Sugabala, shipmistress of the Falcon Descending.”
“That’s why we were chosen to bear the message through the distortion,” Temechi interjected.
The Falcon Descending was Bayatur Khan’s flagship. Sogetai’s sister had grown up to be an important woman, then.
(Maybe they did think they could keep him. At least for a while.)
“You can read if you want,” Temechi said. “We don’t mind.”
Anat’s head jerked in his direction; Sogetai made no protest as a lock was pulled from his loose grip. “Shh,” he said as Anat started to apologize, and stroked his head a bit before he started combing again. Not annoyed, then.
Temechi held out Anat’s datapad to him, and he murmured thanks as he reached out to take it.
Cautiously, he shifted so he could prop the datapad on his knees. Sogetai seemed not to mind the movement.
He could not give the book his full attention with Sogetai at his back, sometimes asking him to turn his head. So it was just as well that it fell back into its early pattern—what he found himself thinking of routine adventures, only somewhat altered by the presence of a second character. He might be a little unsure of how Zerrina had figured out that Tahai was being ambushed, but the gist of the plot was obvious enough.
And then, just as he’d grown accustomed to the new pattern—they made camp, and Zerrina told Tahai not to bother with a second bedroll.
The author cut off there, but coyly, in a manner that made it clear enough what had happened. And the next time they met people, Zerrina introduced Tahai as her husband. Anat had to put the dataslate down.
Was that all it took, on Chogoris? Well. Arguably more than on Prospero; there had been no formal ceremonies there either, only a record of what property each brought to the new household—and that had been a recent innovation.
Anat shook his head—no use speculating; the book didn’t even purport to be set on Chogoris. It probably wasn’t a viable map. (Perhaps he should have started with the historical romance.)
“Time for a break?” Temechi asked, and gave Anat something to drink before either he or Sogetai could respond.
“Dinner?” Anat said. If they were feeding him a breakfast and lunch, he would probably get a third meal.
Temechi shook his head. “Not quite time. It’s just a bit of juice.”
Not quite time. He hadn’t noticed anyone else eating while they fed him, but perhaps…
“We’re trying to ease you onto standard rations,” Temechi said, which was almost what Anat had been wondering about.
They hadn’t asked about his diet—had they known the Thousand Sons they took would be half-starved, or had Sogetai garnered that information with his biomancy? Anat didn’t feel up to asking.
Anat didn’t feel up to asking about Chogorian marriage customs either—and anyway, he might still get some useful information from the romance. Neither did he want to return to Tahai and Zerrina’s story just yet and inspect it for changes in their treatment of each other. Not yet.
Perhaps he should try the game. It was unlikely to be very upsetting, at least.
Probably still tomorrow. Unless he’d slept for longer than he thought… No, Temechi had called his last meal a lunch, which meant he probably hadn’t been out long.
He still had time, then.
Anat’s hands shook as he reached for the clasps—easier said than done, anyway. The chains had tangled together, tangled with his hair, slipped this way and that. It took an age to find the first clasp, and then that necklace proved too snared by its fellows to come away easily.
He tried to tease it through the mess, but without the benefit of sight he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t making the tangle worse. Finally he let go of the necklace’s two ends, letting them fall over his chest. There was no use damaging them, but it still felt like a failure.
Be calm. Start from the beginning: he could not remove the necklaces while they were so tangled with his hair, not without ripping it out along with them. Start with that.
He had no comb, of course, so he would have to make do with his fingers. The loss of his old strength had not made them well-suited to delicate work—that would take practice, if it were allowed him. In trying to tease a knot apart he ripped it instead, and flinched from the sound, and thought himself ridiculous for flinching.
It was nothing the captain himself had done. But the sound—that was the same sound as when the thralls tasked with readying him for their master realized he was coming back sooner than expected, that they had no time to finish. That he had no time—
Breathe. He had time: he had until tomorrow. He put his fingers to his neck again.
“Can I help?” Sogetai asked, and after his start Anat realized he meant help him with his hair.
“Please do,” he said cautiously.
Of course he braced himself for pain. But Sogetai was gentle as he combed the tangles out of Anat’s hair, starting from the ends and working up, more patiently than Anat would have expected of him.
Anat had expected to be nervous with Sogetai directly behind him, hands on his head and neck, and he was—but not as much as he’d thought. To his own bemusement, he was actually comfortable enough to be bored. He found himself reaching for his datapad—his reach fell short, but Sogetai probably wouldn’t mind if he moved his torso as well—
Trust was a dangerous thing, especially now that Anat had no armor left but his wariness. He let his hands fall in his lap, and concentrated on sitting still, breathing evenly.
“I did this for my sister,” Sogetai said, quite suddenly. “When we were children on Chogoris. Her name now is Sugabala, shipmistress of the Falcon Descending.”
“That’s why we were chosen to bear the message through the distortion,” Temechi interjected.
The Falcon Descending was Bayatur Khan’s flagship. Sogetai’s sister had grown up to be an important woman, then.
(Maybe they did think they could keep him. At least for a while.)
“You can read if you want,” Temechi said. “We don’t mind.”
Anat’s head jerked in his direction; Sogetai made no protest as a lock was pulled from his loose grip. “Shh,” he said as Anat started to apologize, and stroked his head a bit before he started combing again. Not annoyed, then.
Temechi held out Anat’s datapad to him, and he murmured thanks as he reached out to take it.
Cautiously, he shifted so he could prop the datapad on his knees. Sogetai seemed not to mind the movement.
He could not give the book his full attention with Sogetai at his back, sometimes asking him to turn his head. So it was just as well that it fell back into its early pattern—what he found himself thinking of routine adventures, only somewhat altered by the presence of a second character. He might be a little unsure of how Zerrina had figured out that Tahai was being ambushed, but the gist of the plot was obvious enough.
And then, just as he’d grown accustomed to the new pattern—they made camp, and Zerrina told Tahai not to bother with a second bedroll.
The author cut off there, but coyly, in a manner that made it clear enough what had happened. And the next time they met people, Zerrina introduced Tahai as her husband. Anat had to put the dataslate down.
Was that all it took, on Chogoris? Well. Arguably more than on Prospero; there had been no formal ceremonies there either, only a record of what property each brought to the new household—and that had been a recent innovation.
Anat shook his head—no use speculating; the book didn’t even purport to be set on Chogoris. It probably wasn’t a viable map. (Perhaps he should have started with the historical romance.)
“Time for a break?” Temechi asked, and gave Anat something to drink before either he or Sogetai could respond.
“Dinner?” Anat said. If they were feeding him a breakfast and lunch, he would probably get a third meal.
Temechi shook his head. “Not quite time. It’s just a bit of juice.”
Not quite time. He hadn’t noticed anyone else eating while they fed him, but perhaps…
“We’re trying to ease you onto standard rations,” Temechi said, which was almost what Anat had been wondering about.
They hadn’t asked about his diet—had they known the Thousand Sons they took would be half-starved, or had Sogetai garnered that information with his biomancy? Anat didn’t feel up to asking.
Anat didn’t feel up to asking about Chogorian marriage customs either—and anyway, he might still get some useful information from the romance. Neither did he want to return to Tahai and Zerrina’s story just yet and inspect it for changes in their treatment of each other. Not yet.
Perhaps he should try the game. It was unlikely to be very upsetting, at least.
