Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [73]
“I know.” She seemed satisfied with the compliment.
Turning to what he was genuinely more confident about, Jeryd risked another attempt to dig for information, now that she was more at ease with him. “So how did you really get to know Delamonde Ghuda?”
“You don’t ever ease up on the work front, do you?” she said.
“My lunch hour is over, I fear.”
“I met him in a tavern, Rumex. That’s all. He’s just one more handsome man I went to bed with. A man I wanted to sleep with out of choice. Not a crime, is it?”
It should be, he thought, but then he didn’t really understand his personal feelings in this. As a rumel who was out of touch with the way the modern world worked, he often understood himself even less than he did others.
Dusk, and standing outside of the Bistro Júula. Jeryd stared up at the pterodette that had narrowly missed excreting on him. The little reptile flew up to perch on the roof, looking down at him.
“Not on these robes, you won’t, my friend,” Jeryd said confidently, empowered by the advice of another woman.
Antique present tucked under his arm, carefully wrapped. He wore fine silk robes, in black, over a white silk undershirt with matching handkerchief. The outfit had cost him nearly a Jamún. He had shaved with an expensive blade earlier on, too. Consequently the breeze felt chillingly fresh against his smooth cheek, despite his thick rumel skin. He had even—though he would never admit this to anyone else serving in the Inquisition—scented his white hair with fragrant oils.
I may stink like a tart’s dressing table, but every little bit helps.
He tried to remember everything Tuya had told him. He had reread his notes a dozen times, and it put him in mind of those Inquisition entrance exams, back in his youth.
Jeryd cast an eye at the nearby clock tower. She was bound to keep him waiting—she always did. He felt nervous, as if this was their first date. The sky was darkening fast, the tall buildings becoming even blacker against it. Birds and pterodettes arced hypnotically above the countless spires. Lanterns were being lit along the street, their colored glow catching the limestone. Sandalwood incense wafted from one of the taverns further upwind. Maybe he was going soft, but he thought the scene rather romantic.
There she was, Marysa, walking slowly along the path to meet him, hips swinging slowly as she came up the hill, and his heart was beginning to race. She caught his eye as she came closer, then looked at the ground. For a moment neither of them said anything. Her elegant, black robe was slightly darker than her skin, with a colored scarf wrapped around her neck. Her white hair was tied up with something that sparkled, no doubt some current fashion he wasn’t aware of, and the colored makeup around her eyes opened up her face in new ways. Her tail swayed back and forth sinuously.
“Hello,” Jeryd gulped. “You look incredible.”
“Thank you,” she said. “And I like your new robe.”
He hadn’t heard it for so long, that soothing voice. “Oh, this is for you,” he forced himself to say, handing over the present. “Just a little something you might be interested in.” He tried not to contain his eagerness as he urged, “Go on, open it.”
She unwrapped it quietly, and her face lit up. The gift was small, possibly some ancient navigational device, only a handspan wide, with an intricate mechanism.
“An antique,” she said in awe. “Looks almost like a relic.”
Jeryd stood back, arms folded, feeling pleased with himself. “Should keep you busy for a few days trying to work out what it is.”
“It’s really wonderful.” She kissed him on the cheek, a gesture that could have meant anything, so he tried not to interpret it with wishful thinking.
“Now, shall we?” Jeryd indicated the nearby bistro.
After a deep initial awkwardness, the night went better than he could have imagined. He actually listened