"I did not think you would have read Ereseya," I murmured.

"I did not think you would have read Ereseya," he said.

"Well," I said, my ears coloring. "Perhaps not the later works." I could almost see his quirked lips and finished, "Ah... well... at least... not since my wife died. She was... ah... rather fond of them."

"Of reading them?" he said, amused.

"Of reciting them," I admitted. "Aloud. As... ah... incitement."

He hid his grin against my shoulder, and I smiled, for the first time in... I couldn't remember. Smiling over a memory of Sejzena, rather than sighing or feeling empty. Smiling over a memory of her reading erotic poetry! As incitement, it had been only partially successful, for Ereseya's later works were explicit enough to make even a mother blush, and Sejzena had always been forced to spend the first few moments coaxing me past my embarrassment. It had been worth it, though.

I was still smiling.

Kor rested his hand on my chest and I threaded my fingers through his, and in gratitude brought our joined hands up, and kissed them. Black fingers and gold, twined, and for a moment it seemed like one hand.

"No reading of Ereseya," I said, sternly.

"It wouldn't be necessary," he said. "I have all her works memorized."

Ajan returned to the sound of our laughter. He peeked into the bedchamber before I could sit up, and before either of us could speak asked boldly, "What's so funny?"

"Ereseya," Kor said.

"Ohhhhh," Ajan said. "I like "The Nine Spokes of the Wheel of Love" particularly."

"Really?" I said, surprised, for that was one of her more spiritual essays.

"Oh, absolutely," Ajan said. "But Carnal Prayers... now that one, I have memorized."

I sighed as Kor resumed his laughter at my back, laughter which was now distinctly more like snickering. "Now I know you two are kin," I said, fond and exasperated.

"A man grows like his master," Ajan said gaily, startling me by this echo of his masuredi's earlier words.

I managed to say, "In truth, you deserve one another."

Ajan grinned and dropped onto his mat before the door... but not before he met my eyes, and in them I saw his fierce gratitude. I had feared his jealousy... I should have known better. Humbled, I settled in to sleep. Shame's arm remained around me, and his body against mine truly was warmer than any robe and blanket. The last memories of the pain of the Vines fled before such power, and I slept... indeed, easier than I had in longer than I could remember.

ajzelin [ ah jzehl EEN ], (noun)touch-lover; beloved; someone allowed to touch your entire body in a non-sexual context at any time and in any situation or company—this word requires it be mutual on each other's parts. This blanket permission is rarely given and always a special intimacy.

Reck this: Once there was an aridkedi, a country Merchant who specialized in the creation of pots. Indeed, so devoted was she to her craft, and so much did she love her pots, that she could not bear for any of them to be broken if she could somehow mend it....

The following morning, while Shame was in the bathing chamber, Ajan came to me and, crouching, took up the hem of my robe and kissed it.

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you for saving him."

"Penokedi," I began, and sighed. "Ajan. Rise, please." As he stood, I said, "I have made a beginning only. This is the work of more than one person. Do you understand? One relationship cannot serve all needs."

He dipped his head at the aphorism and said, "You are wise, osulkedi."

Rueful, I said, "I am too young to be wise." Clearing my thoughts I said, "Off with you now. Finish your packing and break your fast. No doubt your master will want to leave the moment he has secured our permit."

"Of course," he said.

As he turned to go, I added, "Penokedi." When he paused, I said, "I will need your help in this. As I said, I have only made a beginning."

He met my eyes and said, with all passion, "Anything."

"Well I know it," I murmured. "Go now."

He went, leaving me to my thoughts which, I fear to admit, aunera, were rather meddlesome. I would blame this on parental instinct, as one learns to meddle quite a great deal as a parent... but I sense I would probably have meddled even had I not had Marul. All I can say in my defense is that this kind of social manipulation of relationships is quite expected among us, and we are far more forgiving of it that you seem to be.

So, yes. I was plotting to solve Ajan's difficulties as well as Kor's. As I began packing my own trunk, I thought back to my exclamation. How amazing! For it was true. I did feel too young to be wise, after too many years feeling much too old. The happenings in Qenain were stinging me back to life, it seemed... and perhaps just in time. Kherishdar is not served by an individual who lays down his burden before his years.

I was mostly done with my work when Shame left the bathing chamber, looking far more hale to my eye than he had yesterday.

"Shall I go with you to the lady?" I asked, my voice even.

He was toweling off his hair, moving around the room in search of his clothes, which Ajan intercepted him with. "No. Unless you wish it."

"No," I said, to his complete lack of surprise, I was sure. "And if you knew what I would say in advance, why did you ask?"

He grinned. "For the pleasure of showing you that I was letting you make the choice?" He donned again the robes of his office while I watched with a faint frown. "And now what is it? Have I displeased my ajzelin so swiftly?"

"You should wear colors," I said sternly.

This stopped him entirely. "Pardon?"

"Colors," I repeated. "Black makes you look forbidding. And those few paltry white edges that show at the hems only make the contrasts more dizzying."

Kor said slowly, "The priests of Shame always wear black, white or gray."

"There's a colored stole," Ajan said helpfully.

Kor looked over his shoulder with a scowl.

"It's true," Ajan said to me, wearing his most innocent expression. "As a priest who can administer every Correction, he is entitled to wear the colored stole."

"And what color is it?" I asked, beginning to enjoy the look on Kor's face. He was due some exasperation of his own.

"It's crimson on the face," Ajan said. "And flesh-pink on the other side."

"That sounds perfect," I said, donning my most thoughtful look.