‘Yes?’ Ki said encouragingly.
‘Stop interrupting me. How can I think and talk at the same time if you keep interrupting me? We’ll do this. We’ll find a public bath; an old city like Jojorum must have some baths worthy of the name. And we will loll and soak until your little toes are as pink as your nipples.’ He grinned at her, suddenly wicked as his own fantasy carried him away. ‘We will hire a body servant to put up your hair in long soft curls, and weave it all through with fine gold wire and pearls. We will drape you in one long length of cloth of gold, and put slippers on your feet of finest gleaming leather. Green stone earrings to match your flashing eyes, and three plain silver rings on each of your hands.’
‘And then what?’ Ki asked gently when the pause grew long.
‘And then we shall walk through Jojorum together, with your arm about my waist, and folk will gaze on us and remember when this city was young and lusty.’
‘They’d only be admiring your vest,’ Ki teased gently, but she moved to stand close before him, and put her hands on her hips. ‘You know we don’t have the coin to do any of that, other than the bath.’
‘I know. But when I want to do it, I know I want to do it, while you go about pretending you don’t want to do it, because you know you can’t afford it. And that’s the big difference between us.’
‘That makes us good for each other,’ Ki amended. She slipped one hand into her skirt pocket. With the other she caught a handful of the thick dark curls at the nape of his neck. Her gentle pull bowed his head to her. She drew her free hand out of her pocket and shook out a circle of chain and looped it over his head.
‘What’s this?’ Vandien pulled her down to sit on the bed beside him as he fingered the fine silver chain curiously.
‘It’s an impulse. From a friend who doesn’t have many. I knew it was yours when I saw it in the jeweler’s stall.’
Vandien slipped the necklace off to look at it. The chain was silver worked in tiny loops. Suspended from one larger loop swung a tiny hawk. Spread wings, talons and open beak had been chipped in fine detail from some black stone that glistened even in the cuddy’s dim light. A chip of red was its sparkling eye. Ki knew she had chosen well at the sigh that escaped him. He looped it again about his neck. The length of the chain let it rest well below the hollow of his throat.
‘It’s almost lost in the hair,’ she observed.
‘I shall shave that spot on my chest to properly display it,’ Vandien promised.
‘You will not.’ She kissed him so suddenly that her rare token of affection landed only on the corner of his mouth and his moustache. But when he would have been more thorough, she gently freed herself from his embrace.
‘You just remembered you forgot to buy harness oil,’ Vandien guessed sagely.
Ki laughed ruefully at his accuracy. ‘And I need to refill the team’s grainbox. I’ll have to take the wagon to fetch that.’
‘I’ve errands of my own, nearly as dreary.’
‘Such as?’
‘Warm underwear and axle grease,’ he told her solemnly. He rose, keeping his head bent under the low cuddy ceiling. ‘I found a nice little tavern, and left my horse tied in front. It’s called the Contented Duck. As nearly as I could find by asking about, it’s the only place in Jojorum that serves both Alys and Cinmeth.’
Ki nodded. ‘I’ll meet you there, then. But, Vandien.’ He turned back to the sudden worry in her voice. ‘We cannot tarry long. I’ve heard an ugly thing in the streets today: A juggler on a street corner warned me of Rousters. “I can put a long coat over my motley,” he told me. “But a painted Romni wagon is a harder thing to hide.” We’d best be clear of this place before nightfall.’
‘Rousters?’ Vandien looked at her blankly.
‘We’ve been together too long. Sometimes I forget you are not Romni born. The merchants of some towns are not pleased to see a Romni caravan arrive. They call us thieves and worse. But it’s not just the Romni. It’s any traveler with wares to sell that may be cheaper than their own, be he tinker or trader. So the merchants hire Rousters. They’ll come on a wagon in the dead of night, beat the adults, terrify the children, disable the team if they can, set fire to the wagon if they can’t; all in the name of moving on the thieving vagabonds and keeping their fair towns pure.’
Vandien’s dark eyes went black as Ki spoke. Her face held an expression he seldom saw on her. Her green eyes were unseeing as she remembered more than she spoke about. He touched her gently on the sleeve and she was suddenly back with him.
‘Surely they won’t bother us,’ he reasoned. ‘We’re only one wagon, delivering freight.’
‘They don’t care.’ Ki’s voice slashed in, low and savage. ‘They don’t care if you’re selling lace or juggling at a crossroads or doctoring horses. You can just be begging. They roust you along, and not gently. I don’t usually do business with towns that keep them. I’ll be glad to watch the dust of Jojorum settle behind us, and get back to our regular hauls.’
‘All right.’ Vandien agreed so meekly that Ki turned to him in wonder. He gave a snort of laughter at the look on her face. ‘Just as you had your impulse for the year, I am indulging a spree of practicality. We’ll meet at the Duck, have but one drink each, and be on our way. We’ll be clear of Jojorum before nightfall.’
They clambered out of the cuddy and Vandien watched Ki stride off to the innyard’s corral to fetch her team. He shook his head silently. Rousters. He had never thought he would see Ki leave a town with no cargo to haul, and an inn room paid for and not slept in. He turned his own steps back down the dusty streets to the market again.
Just this morning they had arrived, and they would leave before nightfall. A pity. Jojorum had seen better days, but as downtrodden as it was, an old glory peered from its corners and teased Vandien’s curiosity. Ki’s wagon had rolled into the city through a towering arch whose lines were slightly obscured by the many mud swallow nests that clung to it. The tall yellow wheels of her Romni wagon had rolled smoothly over the pavingstones some ancient ruler had thoughtfully laid down for her. A blanket of dust shrouded the street and muffled the hoofbeats of her team. Weeds and grasses sprouted from the cracks between road surface and building fronts. Tall stone buildings frescoed with the faces of forgotten heroes were diminished by the mud brick houses that huddled between and against them, reminding Vandien of the swallow nests. Three of the five fountains they had passed were cracked and dry, but at the fourth one, folk were drawing water and at the fifth, laundry was being sloshed under the watchful eyes of seven marble water spirits that helpfully spewed down the clean rinse water. The last fountain had been set in an ancient courtyard. Dead harp trees were mute before the fallen mansion. Jojorum was a melancholy city that had outlived its days of joys and dabbled now in licentiousness.
Vandien wandered back to the clothing stalls.
‘You’ve come back for the vest, then?’ the proprietor asked.
A gleam of mischief came into his eyes. ‘Have you one that is similar, but smaller? One that would fit the friend that was with me earlier?’
But he was cheated of his jest, for she had nothing gaudy enough to satisfy him. For the second time that day, he gave the merchant a regretful shake of his head and stepped from her booth. He strolled through the market, enjoying the noise and bustle. The long peaceful days of the last haul had chafed his quick spirit. Now here were