stretched his legs, and crossed his ankles. He half closed his eyes and impaled his guest with a stare. "No, I don't think you do. Neither of my daughters has chosen a lover or a husband. Isis is not ready. Of this I am certain. And if she were, I would not wish her to accept someone of whom I know so little."
Reshep lowered his gaze to the pool of dark crimson in his wine goblet. Meren saw his neck and jaw slowly approach the hue of his wine. From what he'd seen of this man, he expected him to take furious offense. Yet the crimson stain ebbed rapidly from his face and neck. Reshep looked up at him, revealing a quiet smile. He spread his arms and tossed his head.
"I should have guessed. Forgive me, Lord Meren. This happens so often that I forget how disconcerting it must be to the fathers."
"What happens so often?"
Reshep turned a little in his chair, rested an elbow on the chair arm, and waved his goblet. "Young women— girls, if you prefer. Becoming instantly taken in love for me." Reshep held up his hand when Meren tried to speak. "I assure you, my lord, I use no spells or amulets. I've no need of them."
"In truth," Meren replied mildly.
"Reshep!" Prince Djoser appeared, breathless and eager. "Come, show my friends how to perform that hunting dance. Lady Isis has requested to see it."
Reshep glanced at Meren, who rose. "A host doesn't prevent his guests from seeking merriment."
When Reshep and Djoser were gone, Meren searched the crowded deck, caught the eye of his son and a charioteer, and resumed his seat. Kysen and Simut approached.
Staring over a table piled with pastries and dessert breads, Meren watched Isis drape herself across a couch, arms propped on cushions, one leg bent to display the curve of her hip. "Simut, I was wrong not to assign someone to keep watch over my daughter during this feast."
The charioteer didn't ask to which daughter Meren referred. He spun around and began working his way toward the group of young people watching Reshep lead a men's hunting dance. Kysen let out a short burst of laughter that elicited a scowl from Meren.
"I find your source of amusement unfitting."
With difficulty Kysen mastered his laughter, but couldn't seem to get rid of his smile. "Forgive me, Father. Perhaps we should discuss something else. How did you find this country lord, Reshep?"
"Of little interest," Meren replied. "He's ornamental, pleasant, but he seems to have no other topic of conversation but himself."
"Indeed."
They both turned to find Bener leaning against one of the slender lotus columns that supported the awning. She bore a tray of pastries, which she offered to them before sinking to a cushion beside Meren.
"You agree?" Kysen asked. He looked in Reshep's direction. The dance had finished, and the newcomer had been surrounded by women. Not Isis, however, or Princess Tio, each of whom had their own court of admirers. "Most women seem to find him godlike in his magnificence."
"He wouldn't make a good lover, or a good husband," Bener said with a certainty that caused Meren to sit up straight.
"Why?" he asked.
Bener picked up a fruit pastry and bit into it. "Because he will always be more in love with himself than any woman."
"Rather like Isis," Meren said with a slight smile. "Their kas are much alike."
Kysen shook his head. "I never thought to say this, but Reshep is worse than Isis."
Meren was about to agree, but he happened to glance across the deck and saw Princess Tio walking toward them. Her height and disdainful expression caused everyone in her path to step aside, so that it appeared that she moved through a wave of white linen and jewels.
"Kysen, Bener, go away, quickly."
"What's wrong?" Bener asked.
Kysen stood up and pulled his sister to her feet. "Don't argue. You know that tone."
"Ky," Meren said as his son followed Bener from the sitting area. "Tell the captain to begin the return trip to the quay."
Tio arrived as Kysen left, and Meren rose to bow to
Reshep lowered his gaze to the pool of dark crimson in his wine goblet. Meren saw his neck and jaw slowly approach the hue of his wine. From what he'd seen of this man, he expected him to take furious offense. Yet the crimson stain ebbed rapidly from his face and neck. Reshep looked up at him, revealing a quiet smile. He spread his arms and tossed his head.
"I should have guessed. Forgive me, Lord Meren. This happens so often that I forget how disconcerting it must be to the fathers."
"What happens so often?"
Reshep turned a little in his chair, rested an elbow on the chair arm, and waved his goblet. "Young women— girls, if you prefer. Becoming instantly taken in love for me." Reshep held up his hand when Meren tried to speak. "I assure you, my lord, I use no spells or amulets. I've no need of them."
"In truth," Meren replied mildly.
"Reshep!" Prince Djoser appeared, breathless and eager. "Come, show my friends how to perform that hunting dance. Lady Isis has requested to see it."
Reshep glanced at Meren, who rose. "A host doesn't prevent his guests from seeking merriment."
When Reshep and Djoser were gone, Meren searched the crowded deck, caught the eye of his son and a charioteer, and resumed his seat. Kysen and Simut approached.
Staring over a table piled with pastries and dessert breads, Meren watched Isis drape herself across a couch, arms propped on cushions, one leg bent to display the curve of her hip. "Simut, I was wrong not to assign someone to keep watch over my daughter during this feast."
The charioteer didn't ask to which daughter Meren referred. He spun around and began working his way toward the group of young people watching Reshep lead a men's hunting dance. Kysen let out a short burst of laughter that elicited a scowl from Meren.
"I find your source of amusement unfitting."
With difficulty Kysen mastered his laughter, but couldn't seem to get rid of his smile. "Forgive me, Father. Perhaps we should discuss something else. How did you find this country lord, Reshep?"
"Of little interest," Meren replied. "He's ornamental, pleasant, but he seems to have no other topic of conversation but himself."
"Indeed."
They both turned to find Bener leaning against one of the slender lotus columns that supported the awning. She bore a tray of pastries, which she offered to them before sinking to a cushion beside Meren.
"You agree?" Kysen asked. He looked in Reshep's direction. The dance had finished, and the newcomer had been surrounded by women. Not Isis, however, or Princess Tio, each of whom had their own court of admirers. "Most women seem to find him godlike in his magnificence."
"He wouldn't make a good lover, or a good husband," Bener said with a certainty that caused Meren to sit up straight.
"Why?" he asked.
Bener picked up a fruit pastry and bit into it. "Because he will always be more in love with himself than any woman."
"Rather like Isis," Meren said with a slight smile. "Their kas are much alike."
Kysen shook his head. "I never thought to say this, but Reshep is worse than Isis."
Meren was about to agree, but he happened to glance across the deck and saw Princess Tio walking toward them. Her height and disdainful expression caused everyone in her path to step aside, so that it appeared that she moved through a wave of white linen and jewels.
"Kysen, Bener, go away, quickly."
"What's wrong?" Bener asked.
Kysen stood up and pulled his sister to her feet. "Don't argue. You know that tone."
"Ky," Meren said as his son followed Bener from the sitting area. "Tell the captain to begin the return trip to the quay."
Tio arrived as Kysen left, and Meren rose to bow to
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