Temple of the Winds

It suddenly embarrassed Clarissa to realize that this dressmaker thought that she was concubine not only to the emperor but to Nathan. The ring through her lip, gold though it was, still meant she was nothing more than a slave. A slave would mean little to the emperor, with child or not, gold ring or not.

Nathan boldly told people that he was Emperor Jagang's plenipotentiary, which kept them furiously bowing and scraping. Clarissa was merely property, shared with the emperor's trusted agent.

The dressmaker's sidelong glance finally struck home. She was a whore in his eyes. Maybe a whore in a fine dress, and maybe not a whore by choice, but a whore nonetheless. A whore who was enjoying herself, being dressed in fine clothes and kept by an important man at the finest inn in the city.

The fact that Nathan didn't think the same thing was all that kept her from running from the dress shop in humiliation.

Clarissa reproached herself. This was the pretense Nathan had crafted for them, to keep them safe. It kept the soldiers they encountered at every turn from hauling her away to a tent. Deprecating glances were a small thing indeed for her to bear in return for all that Nathan had done for her, and for the respect he always showed her. It was what Nathan thought that mattered.

Besides, she was used to disapproving looks-looks of sympathy at best, scorn at worst. People had never looked upon her with favor. Let these people think what they would. She knew she was doing something worthwhile, for a man of worth. Clarissa lifted her chin as she strutted to the door.

The dressmaker bowed again as they stepped out into the dark street to the waiting carriage. Thank you. Lord Rahl. Thank you for allowing me to serve the emperor in my small way. The dresses will be delivered before morning, you have my word."

Nathan waved an offhanded dismissal to the man.

In the dim dining room of the elegant Briar House, Clarissa sat across a small table from Nathan. She now noticed the surreptitious glances she got from the staff.

She sat up straighter and put her shoulders back, defying them to have a good look at her bosom. She reasoned that in the murky candlelight, and under all the face paint, they wouldn't be able to see her face reddening.

The wine warmed her, and the roasted duck finally sated her gnawing hunger. People kept bringing food-fowl and pork and beef. along with gravies and sauces and a variety of side dishes. She nibbled at a few, not wanting to appear a glutton, and afterward she was satisfied.

Nathan ate with zeal, but didn't overeat. He enjoyed the different dishes, wanting to try them all. The staff hovered around him, slicing meat. pouring sauces, and moving plates and platters around as if he were helpless. He encouraged them, asking for things, sending others away, and in general made himself appear an important man in their midst.

She guessed that he was. He was the emperor's plenipotentiary: a man not to be crossed. No one wanted Lord Rahl to be anything but most pleased. If his pleasure required seeing to Clarissa's desires, they did that, too.

Clarissa was relieved when they were finally shown to their rooms, and Nathan had at last closed the door. She sagged, at last unburdened of the responsibility of acting a fine lady, or a fine whore; she wasn't exactly sure how to play the part. She did know that she was glad to be away from the eyes that played over her.

Nathan strode around the two rooms, inspecting the painted walls with gold molding applied to form huge, sweeping panels with reverse-curved corners. Rich carpets in deep colors covered nearly every inch of floor. Everywhere there were couches and chairs. One room had several tables, one for taking meals there, another, with a slant top, for writing. The writing table held neatly arranged sheets of paper, silver pens, and gold-topped ink bottles with various colors of ink.

In the other room was the bed. Clarissa had never seen a bed like it. Four elaborately turned posts held up a canopy of lace and rich red fabric with gold designs splashed boldly over it. The bed cover matched. It was a huge bed. She had trouble imagining why such an expanse of bed was needed.

"Well," Nathan said as he strolled back into the room with the bed, "I guess it will have to do."

Clarissa giggled. "Nathan, a king would be delighted to sleep in such a room." Nathan's expression contorted in a casual manner. "Perhaps, but I am more than a king. I am a prophet."

Her smile faded as her mood turned earnest. "Yes, you really are more than a king."

Nathan went around the room blowing out most of the dozen lamps. He left the one beside the bed, and the one on the dressing stand.

He half-turned, and gestured to the other room. "I'll sleep on a couch in there. You may have the bed."

"I'll take the couch. I wouldn't be comfortable in such a bed. I'm a simple woman, not accustomed to such grand things. You are. You should have the bed."