Under a Winter Sky - Jeffe Kennedy Page 0,141

his expression solemn. “It was my privilege, Madam Ipsan.”

Once more the annoying blush she couldn’t seem to control heated her face. For the gods’ sakes, she was no green girl to turn red under a man’s admiring eye, not even a man as handsome as this one. Surely, she must be coming down with one of the fevers that tended to crop up this time of year.

Before she could ask about the packages Omeya had brought, a quick tap at the parlor door signaled the all-maid’s return with the promised tea. She let her in and helped her clear the tray of cups, teapot and plate of small pastries, setting them on the table in front of the Quereci women.

Emerence gave the girl instructions before she left. “Go next door and tell Glauca I’ll be gone for sometime. She’ll have to manage the stores until Papa returns or until I do.”

The maid nodded and left. Emerence set to filling cups, waving away Gaeres’s surprising offer to help. He insisted on delivering the cups to the women once Emerence had doctored them to their liking with honey, milk, and turmeric and waited until they’d all taken a first sip—including Emerence—before partaking from his own cup.

His actions were so strange to her, she couldn’t help but stare. Beladine society was distinctly patriarchal and in the more orthodox families, men weren’t only heads of their households, they were small gods. Emerence’s father followed a more balanced philosophy, his business acumen overriding any belief of male superiority, at least when it came to running his shops. He’d put Emerence in a supervisory role the first time she turned a profit for him years earlier. Still, he’d never displayed this sort of deference to the women of his family, not even his mother when she was alive. It seemed the rumors that the Quereci were ruled by women might well be true.

Beladine men would sneer at Gaeres’s actions and call him weak. Emerence suspected that would be a life-threatening mistake.

“We’re different from the Beladine in many ways,” Omeya said, her knowing half-smile hinting she’d guessed at her host’s thoughts.

“But the same in others.” Emerence raised her teacup in a quick toast. “To fine tea, a warm fire, and good company.”

Tocqua Ipsan had always believed a client made welcome was a repeat client and a vendor made to feel the same gave one the best workmanship, first pick from a shipment, and the best goods from a coveted lot. He’d built this parlor for that purpose. Hot tea, comfortable chairs, and an inviting fire remained in memory long after negotiations were over, and the return on hospitality was great.

Emerence employed that philosophy every chance she got. In this instance though she simply enjoyed her Quereci guests’ company and Dahran Omeya’s conversation. Watching Gaeres over the rim of her cup while he drank his tea wasn’t a hardship either.

“Tell me of your trip to see us,” she told Omeya. “Did you encounter much snow?” She refilled teacups and offered tiny, coin sized pastries to eat.

With Omeya translating at times, the three women took turns describing their journey, which consisted mostly of cold days, colder nights, a great deal of snow, and a small avalanche.

“Gaeres saw the warning signs before it was upon us,” Dahran Bulava said. “We managed to get out of the way in time.” She gave Gaeres a wide smile. He returned it with a smaller one and the touch of his fingers over his heart in salute to her.

Playing savior obviously came naturally to him, and Emerence liked the fact he didn’t crow about it. There was charm in humility.

“It’s dangerous this time of year to travel here to Timsiora. My father and I appreciate your willingness to deliver the order, especially with the festival about to start and no lodgings to be found in the city.”

Gaeres spoke this time, once more treating her to the sound of his fine voice. “We’re camped outside the city walls. We prefer it anyway. Fewer people. Better smells.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. Timsiora’s reek wasn’t so bad in the colder months but in summer it was choking. “Will you stay for the Festival of Delyalda?”

Omeya nodded. “For a few days. A dozen of us traveled here. The younger ones want to attend the events as well as the market. Those of us who prefer quiet and an early bed will stay in the camp.”

“And I will play escort to my cousins to some of the celebrations,” Gaeres

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