Part 22 (2/2)

”I see,” he said.

It was almost like s.e.x, like foreplay, this cautious testing. s.e.x -- Rhani frowned, and then smoothed her face quickly. She did not want to have s.e.x with Ferris Dur, even to have a child.

”Rhani,” he said. She glanced at him. He was standing, leaning over her.

She had not heard him move. ”I hope you will not find it necessary to consider too much longer.” His voice was almost pleading. She wished he would sit down, she disliked having to look up to people. Why, she wondered, was this so important to him? It could not be because of the business arrangement; he was not financially minded....

Was it, she wondered, that he wanted her to tell him what to do? He was used to that, after all; he'd lived most of his life with Domna Sam standing at his elbow. She rose. He did not step back. Instead, he put his hands on her shoulders.

The black metal chair trapped her; she could not move back. ”Ferris!” she said sharply. His fingers slid wetly over her bare skin. Angry, she tried to pull away from him, and he poked his face at hers, jerked her toward him, and, with graceless haste, pressed his lips on hers and stuck his tongue into her mouth.

She tore away from him, furious. ”d.a.m.n it, Ferris, let me go!” she said.

But he had already let go, and stood now irresolute and pale, hands opening and closing.

”I thought -- ” he began.

”You didn't think!” she said. She rubbed her lips.

He glared at her, petulant again. ”You don't have to shout.”

Sweet mother, she thought, he's like a child. Suddenly, behind her, she heard the sound of a door opening, and a familiar, welcome voice said, ”Rhani- ka?”

Ferris, pale face reddening, glared over her head. ”You were not summoned,” he said. ”Get out!”

Rhani said, ”No. Stay.” She turned around, smoothing the cloth over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The black wig had slipped, straggling fake hair over her right eye, and she adjusted it.

Dana said, ”Domna, I'm sorry to disturb you. Binkie sent a messenger.

You're needed at the house.”

His face was shuttered, the perfect mask, but Rhani thought she detected amus.e.m.e.nt there. Did it please him to see her embarra.s.sed? Ferris had regained his poise, what there was of it. ”My regrets, Domna, that you have to leave.” ”I am sorry,” she said, glacial. ”I will be in touch with you soon, Domni.”

They went down a kitchen stairway. Dana stayed a pace behind her. At the foot of the steps, she waited until he was level with her. ”Was there really a message?”

Behind the decorous look, she was sure that he was smiling. ”No, Rhani- ka. That was a lie.”

She nodded. ”We'll leave anyway,” she said. He bowed, and slid the kitchen door aside for her. They walked through the ice-walled parlor. It was largely empty; the guests had gathered in the wood-paneled room for the entertainment. Finger bells tinkled and a dancer came in, body slick with oil, naked except for a sequined loincloth snaking around muscular thighs.

The Boulevard was bare and hot. Rhani remembered their sunshades and parasols. She did not want to go back for them. It was close to noon; after the entertainment the slaves would serve a lunch: salads and cold fish and pickled greens and ices. She glanced at Dana, strolling quietly by her side, and wondered what he had seen or heard or guessed. She had no idea how long he had been outside the door. She slid her arm through his. ”He wants to marry me,” she said.

He stiffened. ”That man?”

”His _name_ is Ferris Dur,” she said, ”and he is head of the First Family of Chabad. You'd do well to remember it.”

He said, ”I beg your pardon, Rhani-ka. I meant no disrespect.”

The sun blazed on the white pavements. ”What are you thinking?” she asked. He did not answer, and she stopped. He faced her. ”Tell me.”

He smiled. ”I was thinking that in bed he looks as if he would be -- unimaginative.”

His eyes looked very dark in the brilliant noon light. Coldly, Rhani said, ”It would be a business arrangement.”

”I see,” he said. He coughed. ”Are you going to tell your brother about his unbusinesslike conduct?”

Rhani frowned, and turned to walk again. ”You mean, am I going to tell Zed that Ferris kissed me and that I didn't like it?” She watched their shadows moving almost directly underneath them. ”No. Zed would flay him, or want to.”

”Or me,” Dana pointed out quietly, ”for letting it happen. I'm your body- guard.”

”Even Zed could not expect you to throw yourself between us,” Rhani said tartly. Sweat slithered from beneath the wig and dried on her neck. ”I hadn't planned to tell him.”

The air tasted coppery with the intense heat. The house banners hung limply, looking sodden. Three people, arms about each other, stumbled slowly down the Boulevard. One of them, a woman with a blue bottle in her hand, was singing. The tune wavered, off-key. ”Drunks,” Rhani muttered, disgusted. She watched them fold up onto the pavement, giggling. The singer peered at her as she and Dana came abreast of them; she was moaning the words of a popular song.

”Rhani-ka,” Dana said, his voice clipped, ”let's walk this way -- ”

Gently, he tugged her to the center of the street. The drunks were still staring at her. Suddenly the woman raised her arm and brought the bottle smas.h.i.+ng down on the stone. The sound was shocking. Dana shouted as the woman leaped to her feet. She no longer looked drunk. The jagged gla.s.s gleamed in her right hand.

Rhani screamed. Hands gripped her shoulders; Dana half-lifted her and threw her to one side. The woman was coming toward her. She caught her balance in time to see Dana kick the bottle into the air. It glittered in the sun and shattered to bits on the ground.

Dana dived at the woman and brought her to her knees. He hit her on the side of the head, hard. The other two drunks were on their feet and running toward him. One of them swerved and came at Rhani. Gasping, she dodged his outstretched hands. The man's features seemed huge and monstrous in the distorting light. She heard Dana swear, and the sound of someone falling. The man grinned and came at her again, and she turned and ran, frightened and furious that she had to run, that she had never learned to fight.

A weight hit her back. She slammed down on the stone. Pain skewered her right shoulder, and she screamed. Her attacker cursed her and pinned her wrists behind her, and she screamed again at the agony lancing through her right shoulder and arm.

”Yago b.i.t.c.h!” the man growled. She heard footsteps near her ear. The man yelped and released her wrists. She heard heavy breathing and the scrabble of feet on stone. She sobbed, not daring to move. Something clinked beneath her: it was the pendant with the stunner that Zed had given her. I could have -- I should have -- her thoughts moved slowly. A shadow stooped over her, and she stiffened.

”It's me,” Dana said. He was breathing hard.

”Where -- ?” she asked.

”They ran,” he said. ”They're gone. Are you hurt?”

Rhani tried to turn. She couldn't use her right arm. It seemed strengthless, sickened with pain. She sat up. There was a bleeding sc.r.a.pe on Dana's cheekbone. ”My shoulder hurts,” she said, and gagged as Dana's fingers probed lightly along her neck and down her collarbone.

”Dislocated,” he said. Without warning, he grabbed the shoulder with one hand and with the other pulled and twisted the dangling useless arm. She screamed again; tears sprang into her eyes. The shoulder throbbed. Dana put his arm around her. ”All right, that's done.”

”What did you do?”

”Put it back in place.” She wriggled her fingers. They moved. Tentatively she swung the arm. ”Can you stand?” he said. He helped her to her feet. The brooch on her shoulder had opened, but miraculously it had stayed in the cloth instead of driving itself into her flesh. The careful folds of the sari had unraveled. Fingers trembling, she wound them back about her. Dana said again, ”Come on.”

”Your face -- ” She reached to touch the blood.

”It's nothing, it'll keep. d.a.m.n it, Rhani, stop shaking and walk! We've got to get you home.”

She had lost her sandals. Barefoot, she staggered. Dana kept his arm around her. She couldn't stop shaking; it was noon on Chabad and she was s.h.i.+vering with cold. It's shock, she told herself. The blood made a starry pattern on Dana's cheek. She would have to call the police. Her stomach churned.

Anger overwhelmed fear. She had been attacked in Abanat, her city, on a street whose contours she knew as well as she knew her own hand. Her breathing steadied. She wondered if, by some luck, Zed would have finished at the Clinic early. He might even be home.

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