The Ambassador's Mission: Book One of th - By Trudi Canavan Page 0,73
One is for you.”
Her hands had begun to reach toward the bottle, but now hesitated. Then they continued in the tasks required of them. When both glasses were full she lifted one and handed it to him. He took it and gestured to the other.
“Drink. I have some questions for you. Only questions,” he added. “Hopefully nothing that will compromise you in any way. If I ask anything that will get you in trouble by answering, tell me that instead.”
She looked at the glass, then picked it up with obvious reluctance. He sipped. She followed suit, and the muscles around her mouth twitched into a faint grimace.
“You don’t like wine?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Oh.” He cast about. “Then don’t drink it. Put it aside.”
There was a definite air of dislike to the way she set it down as far away from herself as she could stretch. He took another mouthful from his own glass, considering what to ask next.
“Is … is there any way I should be behaving toward the slaves here that I am … I am neglecting … or getting wrong?”
She shook her head quickly. Too quickly. He reconsidered the question.
“Is there any way I could improve my interaction with the slaves here? Make things more efficient? Easier?”
Again, she shook her head, but not as quickly.
“Am I making a total fool of myself when interacting with slaves?”
The slightest hint of a smile touched her lips, then she shook her head once more.
“You hesitated then,” he pointed out, leaning toward her. “There’s something, isn’t there? I’m not making a fool of myself, but instead I’m doing something unnecessary or silly, aren’t I?”
She paused, then shrugged.
“What is it?”
“You don’t need to thank us,” she said.
Her melodic, husky voice was a revelation after all the silent gestures. He felt a shiver run down his spine. If she wasn’t a slave, I think I’d find her immensely fascinating. And if she wasn’t dressed in that awful wrap dress, probably quite attractive as well.
But he hadn’t called her here to romance her.
“Ah,” he said. “That’s a habit – what we consider good manners in Kyralia. But if it makes things easier, I’ll try not to do it.”
She nodded.
What next? “Other than thanking slaves unnecessarily, is there anything I or Dannyl have been doing in our interaction with slaves that would make us look foolish to free Sachakans?”
She frowned, and her mouth opened, but then she seemed to freeze. He saw her eyes roaming about the floor, focusing as close to him as his feet, then flickering away. She is afraid of how I’ll respond to her answer.
“The truth will not anger me, Tyvara,” he said gently. “Instead it may be a great help to us.”
She swallowed, then bowed her head even further.
“You will lose status if you do not take a slave to bed.”
He felt a flash of shock, then of amusement. Questions flooded his mind. Did he and Dannyl care about losing status for such a reason? Should they? But then, how damaging was their inaction? Had previous Guild Ambassadors and assistants bedded the slaves here?
But, more importantly, how would free Sachakans know if the new Guild Ambassador and his assistant bedded their slaves or not?
Clearly such information isn’t kept a secret. The slaves here are, after all, the Sachakan king’s possessions. It would be stupid to think our prowess in the bedroom wasn’t discussed and judged.
And then he smiled, thinking of all those powerful Sachakan Ashaki gossiping like old women.
He should find out what the consequences were, while he had Tyvara talking.
“How much status will we lose?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I cannot say. I only know they will not respect you as much.”
Does that mean none of the previous Guild House occupants found this out, because none of them refused the opportunity? He looked at Tyvara. If only she would look at me. And look at me without hesitation or subservience. To see her stand straight and tall with confidence and fearlessness, or for those dark eyes to express true, willing desire, I would take her to bed without hesitation. But this … I couldn’t do it. Not even to help Dannyl gain respect in the Ashaki’s eyes.
And it was unlikely Dannyl was taking any of the female slaves to bed either.
“I don’t care about status,” he told Tyvara. “A man should be judged by his integrity, not by how many women he takes to bed – slave or free, willing or otherwise.”