"Mmm," I said, by way of agreement. When he looked up at last, I said, "So, was it the intimation of your sexual frigidity that closed you off to her, or was it something else I don't understand yet?"
He grew very still, then leaned back in his chair and sighed. And smiled, that too, though the smile was a tired one. "You will have it out of me, won't you."
"One way or the other," I agreed. "Though... you want to tell me." At his glance, I said, "Don't you."
That made him laugh. "You see quite clearly, Farren."
"Sometimes," I said. "It is something to do with fathriked, I am guessing."
"I have one," he agreed, and he looked at the wall then, as if through a window only he could see. So strange: I had similar reveries, but I was always staring at something in the world, something outside myself: colors, shapes, patterns, unbearable and enchanting. Kor saw the inside of his own head.
"You have one," I repeated when he didn't go on.
"And he is in love with me," Kor said, closing his eyes, his hands folded on his chest and head lowered.
I studied him, eyes narrowed. "In love with you. Passionately, I am guessing. Cruelly?"
"I don't love him," Kor said, quietly. "Not that way. He..." A very long pause, then softer, "he was part of my trials. You know the trials?"
"The ones that saw you inducted as a priest of Shame?" I guessed. "I have heard of them, but... I don't know much of them, save what you mentioned before." I flicked my ears back to hide their flush. "I didn't attend any of the public events."
That made him smile a little and open his eyes to look at me. "You don't have to apologize, Farren. I know spectacles make you uncomfortable." He let his eyes close again before he continued, "Thirukedi oversees the ritual, and during it, I undergo all the Corrections I am willing and able to, and those pass into my pool of acceptable techniques. These Corrections include all those listed in the Book of Corrections... as well as those in the histories of Shame's priesthood, those that are judged too perilous to be used by anyone without training."
That there were Corrections so dangerous I did not know, and doubted most Ai-Naidar did, and I found myself drawn into the revelation despite my growing sense of foreboding. "I did not know there were such things."
"Most Ai-Naidar do not," Kor agreed, shifting in his chair to sit up straighter. "Previous priests of Shame did not bear these extra Corrections, and were not permitted to use them. So it has been rare to hear of them."
"They must be old," I said, fascinated.
"You could say so," Kor said. "They date back to the first Servant of Shame in Kherishdar."
"Ancestors!" I whispered. "That was... ages ago."
"Many," Kor said, his voice growing quieter. "And Kherishdar was different then. Its first Shame reflected his empire... and his empire was more violent and more passionate than ours, Farren. A Kherishdar deeper in its own body, compared to ours, which lives far more in our mind."
There. The ominous sense was nearly fully formed now. "And these Corrections are violent."
"And of the body," Kor agreed. "But it is forbidden Thirukedi to enact them on His servant's flesh; the relationship between Shame and Civilization must be based entirely on trust, heart, spirit... and body also." He drew in a breath and smiled whimsically. "Civilization is not permitted to rape its servants."
All the hair on the back of my neck lifted. "This fathrikedi did it to you in His stead."
"There were several helpmeets who served throughout the trial," Kor said. "But yes. He was the one who volunteered to execute the most difficult tasks, to initiate me fully into my mysteries. He was masked, so that I might not know him afterwards... but the intimacy of the ritual bound him to me, and he begged to be given to the shrine to serve me afterwards. The Emperor acquiesced. He required that I know that the fathrikedi had been part of the rite, though he did not tell me which role he had served."
I huffed, shaking my head. "As if you would not learn. You of all people."
"I didn't, for a long while," Kor murmured. "But... yes. I did, eventually."
"You don't hate him...?" I asked, careful.
"Hate him!" Kor exclaimed. He shook himself then said, "No. No, Farren. I couldn't. I love him for ushering me into my power. I love him for having the heart of a Decoration—dedicated to the loving of others—and giving himself over to my needs so completely he could force himself to do violence to me. I love him like a brother, and like a servant, and like a priest. But not the way he loves me. Not with the desperate devotion, the fixation that excludes all others."
He let me sort through my feelings then, which were many and complex, and the silence was strangely comfortable despite my own unease. At last, I said, "You let a man rape you."
"Yes," he said. "Among other things." At my look, he said, quiet, "The First Servant was fond of knives."
"Gods!" I whispered. "Kor! Was it truly necessary?"
"I don't know," he answered after a moment. "I don't know, Farren. But I have met situations where I was glad, glad I was free to use Tsevet's Corrections. Because even in our Kherishdar of the mind, there are those who need to be taught through the body. And if I can teach them thus and save them for Kherishdar, then I repay, in some small part, the sacrifice the fathrikedi made to me. Because... Farren... he is ruined for anything else. Everything he had in him... he gave willingly to me. And even if I could return that gift, he would never be the same."
My hands felt cold in my lap where I held them together so tightly my skin ached. "So many ways to suffer," I murmured.
"As many as there are ways to love," Kor said, voice husky.
I looked at him then, and asked despite myself, "Did it... hurt much?"
He closed his eyes, and though his hands were relaxed I could see the tension in his neck and shoulders. "Yes."
I wanted to say something. There were words, words that needed to be said to him about this. Words to make it right... words to assure him that someone understood the significance of what he'd undergone, what he'd chosen to do. But what those words might be... I couldn't imagine. Perhaps because, horribly, painfully, I had the image of him now in my mind, bent over an altar, enduring unspeakable things. It hardly mattered that it had been at his behest, if he had not truly wanted it.
The fathrikedi's observation struck me then with a horrific sense of dread. "Was she right?"
He looked at me, sorrowful somehow. "About being frigid?" A lopsided smile. "No. I am capable. But I have learned how to stop myself from reacting."
"Capable of acting is not the same as... able to enjoy it," I said. "To... lose yourself in it." I studied him. "But you do not lose yourself in much, do you."
"It is not something I am good with," he said. "But I have been to the Trysts since the rite. Though I have not been with another male. He was my first, and so far, my only."
At last I stared at him in open shock. "You... allowed the fathrikedi to rape you... as your first experience with a man?"
