have many friends just yet. The mothers are horrified that she can’t sew and want the wardrobe mistress to give her lessons.”
“Good luck with that,” Kadar muttered. “I was there when my mother and my grandmother tried. It isn’t worth the fight.”
Farrah’s eyes danced with amusement. “Sulis tested out of math, and reading, which is unusual enough for a girl that the teachers were gossiping about it—but they’re giving her remedial classes in scriptures and prayers and she has a personal teacher in deportment. She’s also in a geography class with the rest of her pledge mates. But the servants haven’t cleaned any breeches yet, which she would wear if she’d been riding.”
“Which means what in terms of my ability to meet with her?” Kadar asked.
“She hasn’t been assigned a riding or weapons time. But all of her classes meet in the afternoon, so . . .”
“So when she does travel the west road, it will be in the morning, but after breakfast.” Kadar laughed in relief and hugged Farrah to him. “Farrah, that’s wonderful!”
She laughed up at him from the circle of his arms, and without thinking, he bent down and kissed her. Rather than its being the passive, gentle kiss he intended, she lifted her chin and met his lips with her own soft, full ones.
His interests quickly turned from platonic to passionate, and he kissed her again, more deeply as he became aware of her body held so closely to his. His kisses moved down toward her neck, and he felt her lips on his ear, nibbling. His hand moved forward under her rough brown cloak until it reached the soft curve of her hip.
Uncle Tarik’s voice sounded below them in the stables, and Kadar drew back, turning to make certain his uncle wasn’t climbing the ladder. Uncle Tarik seemed to be talking to a stable hand.
Kadar let out a sigh of relief and turned back to Farrah, only to see her disappearing silently down a ladder on the far side of the loft.
Kadar groaned, then grinned to himself, feeling that he’d learned a lot more this evening than he’d expected.
Chapter 5
SULIS’S HEAD FELL forward, and she forced herself awake for the afternoon class, bracing against the teacher’s monotonous drone. She was used to a daily nap, as the afternoon desert heat often made physical labor impossible. Kadar had always teased her mercilessly about her afternoon slumber, but that had not broken her of the habit. It seemed the Temple would. She was also used to being active and the past two months of only walking from dorm to classroom made her feel dull and sleepy all the time.
She brought back her drifting attention. The tall, thin teacher, dressed in the blue robes of Parasu, was pointing to a map of the Northern Territory. He was focusing on the geography of Trebue, a city to the north of Illian, beside Lake Denia.
“Trebue is an easy three days’ journey from here,” Scholar Jantis explained to the class. “It has a population very much like our own in the capital city.”
Sulis tuned him out again, staring out the window at the sunny courtyard behind the classrooms and dormitories of Parasu, where most of their lessons were held. It was obvious that the man had never been to Trebue or traveled the route he described. It was a straight, easy route to take a mule train on, but the journey was rife with bandits who could melt in and out of the dense forest surrounding the road. Only the very stupid or poor traveled the road to Trebue alone.
“Sulis,” Scholar Jantis said irritably, bringing her attention back to the class. “Since you obviously know everything about Trebue already, please tell the rest of the class what it is you find so amusing.”
Sulis glanced around to find her nine classmates staring at her. One girl, Joaquil, giggled at what she thought was Sulis’s impending disgrace. The rest seemed to reserve judgment, having learned over the past week just how unpredictable Sulis could be.
“Well, Scholar Jantis, Trebue produces the best lamp oil in the Northern Territory. Far better than the smelly fish oil that was used in the days of the Great War. But Trebue is the base for at least three groups of bandits who waylay unarmed and unwary travelers. Furthermore, Trebue’s second great trade is in men-at-arms, who travel with caravans to keep them safe on the main route.” Sulis smiled at the irony. “What might be noticed by the