Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [83]
I blinked, startled; I hadn't thought that far. "It matters not. Naamah's Servants have no preferences," I added with a faint smile.
"Every patron has a preference." Wrenching his attention from the sunbeam, the Dowayne looked me in the face without smiling. "Male or female, young or old, fair or dark."
I shook my head. "My lord, I have known all these things, and none pleases me any better than the other. I am here for my dreams. Choose whom you think best."
"Very well." Rising, the Dowayne went to the door and murmured something to an apprentice. The lad went running, and presently returned with a young man in tow.
All the adepts of the Night Court are beautiful, and Raphael Murain nó Gentian was no exception. He was near to my own age, with straight ash-brown hair that fell shining almost to his waist and long-lashed grey eyes. He smiled at me with a sweetness that put me in mind of Alcuin, and Ifelt the sting of tears. That was another thing; with this lack of sleep, I was altogether too near to crying in my waking hours.
"Does he please you?" the Dowayne asked, watching me carefully with his sidelong gaze.
"Yes," I murmured. Raphael Murain bowed, shining hair falling forward over his shoulders, and took my hands, raising them to his lips to kiss them. I felt his breath play over my knuckles, a warm exhalation of pleasure at my acceptance.
It is very effective, the training of the Night Court.
The Dowayne told him of my nightmares and my wish to recover them and discern their meaning; Raphael listened as grave as a physician, and turned to me when he was finished. "It is needful that you pass the night in Gentian House, my lady," he said softly. "Such dreams will not come when bidden, but as the course of their nature dictates. I must needs sleep beside you, and breathe the air of your dreams. Is this acceptable to you?"
"You will inform my man-at-arms?" I asked the Dowayne.
He nodded. "He may reside in comfort in the retainers' quarters, or depart and return in the morning. The choice is yours."
"Bid him return in the morning." I took a deep breath, and turned to Raphael Murain. "I place myself in your hands."
Raphael bowed again, solemn as a priest.
So it was that I signed the Dowayne's contract and made arrangements for the payment of the fee, and afterward, I was escorted to the baths. One does not hasten pleasure, in the Night Court. I luxuriated in the hot waters and the attentions of a skilled apprentice, while a pair of House musicians played softly on harp and flute. When I was done, I was given a robe of heavy silk to don, and served a light meal with wine. There was some whispered discussion outside the door, and then Raphael Murain came in to join me, and two apprentices appeared to dance for our pleasure, aboy and girl no older than fifteen, clad in veils of filmy gauze.
"It is a part of their training," he told me in his soft voice, a glimmer of amusement in his grey eyes. "But they are nervous, I think, at performing for Phèdre no Delaunay."
"Are you?" I asked, a little reckless. He shook his head and smiled. It made me like him better, for some reason.
It was strange indeed, to be a patron of the Night Court, and I struggled to relax. I, who could surrender my will in an instant to a patron's desires, was hard put to accept indulgence. Raphael watched me and cocked his head, hair falling to one side, and beckoned to an apprentice to issue a request. In this place, his soft voice commanded. Taking my hand, he led me to his quarters, where silk hangings swathed the walls in dim colors and lamplight flickered on a rich, velveted pallet. A boy sat cross-legged in the corner playing a lyre, and a young female adept knelt abeyante beside the bed, warming a bowl of scented oil on a brazier.
"My lady," Raphael whispered, undoing the sash of my robe with skilled, gentle hands and sliding it from my shoulders, kissing me softly. The robe pooled around my feet, and for a moment, his eyes gleamed. I could hear the adept draw in her breath. He loosed my hair, gathering