Temmin was still lost in uncomfortable thoughts--sisters, breasts, threats, infidelity, enchantments, sex, Travelers, magic--but said, "Who'm I interested in? Allis Obby."
Harsin burst out laughing. "Allis, the Embodiment of Neya? That Allis? Well, you're the Heir. You won't have to do any persuading or tithing--just make an appointment!"
"That's odd. I've been told I'd have to chase her--her and Issak Obby."
Harsin instantly grew serious. "Chase them--you're not seriously thinking of becoming a Supplicant?"
"Is there a reason I shouldn't?" said Temmin in surprise.
"I thought you'd planned on lay dedication to Farr the Warrior, not the Lovers. No Heir has ever been a Lovers' Temple Supplicant."
Temmin gaped. "Are you forbidding it?"
Harsin's brow darkened. "That would be impiety. Despite my reputation, I believe in the Gods. I've seen too much not to believe. I don't want you taking Supplicancy in any of the Temples, but this one in particular. In fact, I object in the strongest terms."
"But why would it be such a terrible thing?"
"You've heard the saying, 'When Nerr gets the Heir,' I gather? Of course you have--we all say it whenever we think something's never going to happen. Few remember what it means. It was once a prophecy. When an Heir becomes a Supplicant of the Lovers--when Nerr gets him, in essence--it foretells good times for the common people."
"What's wrong with that? It sounds as if I should go right now, if it means luck for our people."
Harsin shook his head. "At Eddin's Temple, the Scholars believe the saying means the common people will gain this luck at the expense of the nobility. Everything balances, Tem. If they go up too far, it follows that we go down."
"But it doesn't have to be that way, surely. Wouldn't their prosperity lead to ours?"
"Too much prosperity for the people generally leads to unrest, even more so than not enough prosperity. The just-desperate-enough are easier to control. I wouldn't take the risk."
Temmin tensed and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "So what are you telling me, sir? That I can't do this?"
"I am saying my strong, strong preference would be for you to lose your virginity to anyone other than Allis Obby, and then you can spend as much time with her as you want. You can even become a devotee of the Lovers' Temple if you absolutely have to. If you can't find someone yourself--" Harsin's lip twitched, and Temmin colored further-- "I'm sure we can acquire someone for you. The City is full of women, some of whom are almost as beautiful as Allis. I'd even hire you a girl if you'd like, though I don't care for professionals myself. Dirty, and not in the good way. All covered in pawprints. How do your tastes run? Dark hair? Light hair? I'd suppose dark, considering Mattie and Allis, large-breasted, too. Tell Winmer, and we'll arrange something. He tells me there's a girl here at the Keep you seem to like--little thing with curly hair, downstairs maid. Take her for your first. She won't deny you, I guarantee it."
"How'd you know about her?" demanded Temmin. "And I haven't touched her--well, I've touched her, I suppose, but not like that--"
"I encourage you to touch her all you'd like, any way you'd like, but don't go to the Temple a virgin. Am I clear? I can't forbid it, but I can say I am completely opposed."
"Very clear, Father," Temmin said, ice in his voice. He left his brandy on the side table, untouched.
"Jenks!" he called when he returned to his rooms. "Jenks, Pagg damn you! You--Caid," he said, sticking his head out the door and hailing the nearest footman, "off you go. I want a bottle of apple brandy, quickly, please."
Jenks found him after an hour, staring into the fire through the rosy amber in his glass. "Did you know that girl was my sister--half-sister?" Temmin asked him.
"Yes, sir," said Jenks gently. "And as I'm sure you're sitting there suspecting terrible things, I'll come straight to it: I told your mother. If I hadn't known the parentage of the girl in question, I would never have said a thing."
"No, I know you wouldn't. I'm not drunk, if you're wondering. I'm just tired of feeling how unfair everything is. Something's not right in this place."
"There's always something not right, sir, and life isn't fair," said Jenks. "These are the great secrets of adulthood."
CHAPTER FIVE
The royal carriage rolled through the streets of the City on the night of Lord Litta's ball. Temmin sat within on the Tremontine red velvet cushions, drumming his fingers on the window; Ellika sat opposite in a swansdown-trimmed hood that gave her the look of a fluffy white kitten. "Why isn't Seddy coming?" said Temmin.
"She never does," Ellika sniffed. "She only came to yours because it was in the Keep. Oh, she's not as bad as all that. The season is winding down, is all, not even two spokes left, and I don't understand why anyone would want to miss out on what little fun is left. After Nerr's Day there won't be any balls or theater at all, just a few small dances, dinners, card parties, outdoor concerts--little entertainments, no more than a few hundred people at most and usually half that. And then we'll be at High Haven for the whole of Summer's Ending, and it's boring as anything up there. Though it is nice and cool, and the City is so very hot in the summer. But I do miss the grand balls!"
Temmin let Ellika's voice flow over him as he watched the streets and squares glide past the window. Would Allis be happy to see him? And what about Issak?
What about him, indeed. Temmin hadn't considered men much, apart from observing his older cousins and their Mentors, and some adolescent groping with the stable boys. The former filled him with apprehension more than desire, and the latter seemed like so much play--practice for when they could get girls. It had stopped a couple of years ago, anyway, until Alvo. Thinking of Alvo made his eyes smart.
His mind returned to his destination. It's just a dance, he told himself. Why did it feel like so much more?
His father had made his wishes quite clear, but why should he listen to him? Harsin didn't even know how many children he had. Temmin thought of Mattie, and winced. Perhaps he hadn't behaved well towards her, and not just because she was his half-sister. Had he done the right thing with Alvo? Possibly not, but what could he have done? Alvo had run off without saying anything. He resolutely turned his mind back to the ball, and thoughts of the Obbys. They alternated his mood between elation and apprehension. He didn't have to become a Supplicant to see them. That would certainly please his father, but doing so both cheered and irritated Temmin himself. Perhaps he'd seek out that little maid after all, the one with the curly hair--
"--I'm sure, though, we'll make our own fun in the mountains-- Are you even listening to me, Temmy?" Ellika said. "Do stop brooding. If I wanted brooding I would have stayed home with Seddy and discussed the Inchari Problem, or the philosophy behind postage stamp portraits: left profile or right profile. Neya bless me, am I the only one in this family who's any fun whatsoever?"
"You're entertaining enough for the three of us, Elly," smiled Temmin. Ellika bounced on the red-cushioned seat, and he glanced out the window: they had arrived.
The Duke of Litta's townhouse stood in one of the most fashionable yet conservative districts in the City. During the day, its white-painted brick and polished brass gave off a formal, rather stuffy air. Tonight, light and gaiety poured from every window, and the reception hall glittered.
As did Ellika. Amethysts circled her neck and wrists, and winked from her ears. Her dress was almost subdued, for her. Not a scrap of lace, sashed, simple, full-skirted, purple and white shot silk that shimmered in the gaslight: a fairy princess.
"Tem, look around," she whispered as he offered her a proud arm and they proceeded through the genuflecting crowd. "Notice anything?"
"What am I supposed to be noticing?" he whispered back.
"The young men! Look at them. They're all trimming their beards to look like you--moustaches and sideburns and no chin whiskers!"
Temmin looked around. Every third man under the age of 30 had trimmed his beard to look like his, unintent
ional though it was. "Isn't it hilarious?" giggled Ellika. "They're calling the style 'The Heir.'"
"Jenks makes me shave my chin to keep from looking scraggly until it fills in more," grumbled Temmin. "Maybe I'll just shave it all off."
As they entered the ballroom, the crowd broke out into thunderous applause and cheers, and his transitory bad mood lifted. This enthusiastic reception, from the stable hands to the crowd at a grand ball, increasingly felt natural, as if he might gather the energy in his hands and mold it if he could only learn how. He greeted the Duke of Litta, trying hard not to stare at the lurid scar slashed through His Grace's left brow.
All the acclamation almost made him forget why he came, until he looked out into the crowd and caught not one but two pairs of languid green eyes. Allis once again wore her thick, black hair loose to her waist. No one else in the room wore their hair loose but Issak. All of the women had their hair in great piles on their heads. Those men who wore their hair in the conservative longer style had it tied neatly back. The loose hair gave the twins a wild elegance; everyone else looked contrived.
Ellika nudged him. "Temmy, you're staring again. Oh, do get it over with! Find out when your dance is!"
Temmin walked through the parting crowd to the twins. He passed unseeing over most of the faces, though he did spot Fennows, who gave him a knowing wink, the prat.
He held out his hand. Allis took it and curtsied low, and Issak bowed. "Holy Ones," bowed Temmin, his voice much stronger than his nerve. "Miss Obby, I do hope you've saved a dance for me."
Allis looked up at him through her dark lashes and smiled; his soul lit up. "You asked for a whole set of dances, Your Highness," she said. "Do you still wish it?"
"Oh, yes," he said, stunned and happy. He offered his arm, and they took to the floor with the others.
This time, Issak stayed near. Temmin said little to Allis, and she said little to him; words seemed unnecessary. He never knew what to say at these things, but with her, awkwardness didn't apply. She made him comfortable, even though in the back of his mind he knew everyone in the room was staring at them, and some of the stares were not friendly ones.
When the set of dances ended, the revelers began milling about in gossiping clumps. The men escorted their partners to seats, and hurried off to fetch ices, tidbits, sweets, drinks. "May I get you some lemonade, Miss Obby? Wine, perhaps? Are you hungry?" said Temmin.
"I should prefer to see the gardens--I haven't been in Lord Litta's townhouse in too long. Would you fetch my shawl, Your Highness?" said Allis.
"Yes, of course," said Temmin.
The lanky Heir raised several eyebrows as he hurried through the crowd to the cloak room. "Didn't take long for His Highness to sniff out Allis Obby," smirked the Duke of Corland.
"Jealousy is unbecoming, Borney," smiled Lord Litta. "Make an appointment."
"An appointment?" Corland barked with laughter, shaking his chins. "I don't think so. Too complicated, those Lovers. Fennows tells me the Prince is a virgin."
Litta frowned, puckering the saber slash through his left brow. "A virgin, at his age? Is he a lover of men?"
"Damned if I know. Only been here a few days. He'll find his fancy, or have one thrust upon him. Thrust! Ha!"
"I'm not sure it's a joking matter, Corland," said Litta, eyes following Temmin through the ballroom.
"Eh, I'm not much for prophecies. Encouraging Fennows to get the boy laid as quickly as possible, all the same."
When Temmin returned with her shawl, Allis said, "There is a small but lovely garden here. I thought perhaps we could show it to you. Issak has disappeared somewhere to bring us all some wine, but he'll catch up. My, but the terrace is crowded. It's a warm night, isn't it? And I'm surprised they have the garden lanterns lit, the moon is bright tonight," she murmured as she guided him down stairs and pathways to the arbor, where fragrant, drooping wisteria glowed pale among wrought iron trellises and marble classical columns. "Come, sit," she said.
Temmin cleared his throat, groping for an opening gambit, but Allis spared him. "Shall we speak freely, Your Highness?"
"You may always speak freely to me, Holy One," said Temmin.
"Please, call me Allis."
"It would feel strange, then, to have you call me anything but Temmin," he smiled.
"Tell me, then, Temmin, do you observe people?"
"I beg your pardon? I'm not sure what you mean."
"I mean, can you learn something about who people are by watching them?"
Temmin started. Had his staring been so very much? He searched her face for signs of displeasure, but her luminous green eyes showed nothing but an absorbing interest in him. "I suppose so," he said. "I've never really thought about it. I don't do it of a purpose, I can tell you that much."
"Are your eyes used to the lower light yet? Very well. Do you see the man strolling with the young woman in the pathway toward the rose garden? They've stopped below a lantern. You should be able to see them clearly now. Tell me, what is happening between them?"
"I don't know. I can't hear them."
"No, I want you to tell me based solely on observation."
"Is that possible? They're not touching or anything."
"Even so."
"All right, I'll try," he said doubtfully. He shifted on the bench as the couple sauntered down the path. "Well, the man's lying to her, I can see that much."
Allis inclined her head toward him. "How do you know?"
"He looks just like the horse traders trying to slip one over on you at a fair," said Temmin, nodding. "See how he strokes his cheek? Dead giveaway, though he's trying to hide it."
"And the girl?"
Temmin frowned, concentrating. "No," he said. "I can't tell a thing. I just don't know many girls."
"You have two sisters," said Allis.
"I can tell you what they'd be thinking, but I have no idea what she's thinking!"
"Pretend she's one of your sisters. Or your mother."
"Oh," he said. He examined the woman anew, doing his best to ignore the warmth of Allis's arm in his. "As it happens, she's acting just like my mother does around Sister Ibbit."
"How so?"
"Well, watch. She's facing him. He's not looking at her, but she's looking at him. She has her hands clasped, low, in front of her. Mama does it all the time around Ibbit."
"What does it mean, do you think?"
Temmin shook his head. "That he's teaching her something? Or at least she thinks he's teaching her something? I don't know, I don't pay any attention to Sister Ibbit if I can help it. He's lying, though. I do know that."
"Reasonable, for a beginner," said Issak from behind them, his sudden appearance nearly unseating the Prince. Issak handed round three empty glasses and filled them from a bottle he'd tucked under his arm. "Do you want to know what she's thinking? She desperately wants to believe him. Her hands are clasped before her--she wants reassuring. And she's watching his face for signs she can believe him. She's going to fool herself into believing him, whatever it is he's telling her."
"You can see all that?" said Temmin.
The twins nodded. "And a great deal more," said Allis.
"I hate to think what you see when you look at me!" said Temmin, taking a light-hearted sip of his wine. He looked up from the glass at their silence; their faces were both amused and grave. "Do you see things when you look at me?"
"Of course," they said, almost in unison. "Lovers' Temple training teaches us a great deal about someone just from the way they hold their heads, let alone the rest of their bodies," continued Allis; self-conscious, Temmin brought his head up high and stiff on his neck. "All Lovers and Beloveds know it, to some degree," she continued. "We look for those who have natural talent."
"You show signs of having it, Temmin," said Issak.
"I do?"
"You're very observant, when you wish to be, which I think is not very often. That's hardly damning--most young men your age don't wish to be, either," said Issak.
"Oh, come now!" said Temmin. "Talking like an old man--you can't be more than two or three years older than me!"
"We turn twenty-one in Summer's Ending," said Allis, "but we've been training for our positions informally since birth, formally since age ten--not in the Temple, to be sure, we didn't come to live in the Temple until we turned eighteen. But we've been studying people since we could stand."
"So--why...why would you be interested in seeing this talent in me?" said Temmin rather nervously. "I certainly can't become a Lover."
"No, Your Highness," smiled Allis. "Most certainly not."
"The dancing will resume shortly," said Issak. "We should go back in soon."
"Oh, well, if you want to go in," hastened Temmin, "please do, Issak! I should like to stay out a little longer." He gave Allis a hopeful smile.
"If you want to kiss her, kiss her," said Issak, adding gently, "and if you want to kiss me as well, kiss me."
Temmin realized how close they all sat on the bench. Allis pressed against his right, her hand light on his thigh; Issak boxed him in on his left, one hand soothing up his back before resting on his shoulder. "Just--kiss you?" he squeaked. "Both of you?"
"Have you never kissed a woman?" said Allis.
"Not this sober, no."
"Lesson number one," said Allis, turning his face to hers. She kissed him, soft and slow.
The tender pressure of her lips, the scent of her hair: something floral, sweet incense, clean skin underneath. Heady. Only his lips touched hers, but the kiss resounded through his body, sending minute shocks along his skin; they set his hair on end.
His eyes drifted closed. When they opened at the end of the kiss, she moved from a distant object of beauty and desire, static as a statue, to a woman; amusement, compassion, pleasure and hesitancy moved across her face, and to his surprise, he caught each look and understood them all.
A different hand turned his face the other way. "Lesson number two," said Issak. His firm kiss hardened; Issak's insistent tongue opened Temmin's mouth, and left him whimpering as it explored inside. Allis's fingers trailed across the taut front of his trousers. He fell out of the kiss with a gasp, leaning his head against Issak's broad shoulder. Was it intentional? Did he care? He did not. Such a small touch to leave such a great ache behind it. Another touch from the other side, more deliberate, and he pushed out, groaning.
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