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We passed through the acorn door, Ash pushing me in front of him. As we went
he shed pieces of his costume, willy-nilly. The collar was the first to go. Then went the
mask to the floor of the bough. He left them behind, scattered like dead leaves.
Where are we going? My voice sounded strangely small to me.
You know where.
I did down to the barrows, below the roots, close to the wolves he kept.
Up above in the canopy the hunt would go on all through the day, all through the
night. The prey might be caught a dozen times, by a dozen different pairs of hands or
just once, if the hunter was greedy. I swallowed and looked down.
The bough spiraled down the length of the great tree, and soon we stood at a
trapdoor leading down into the barrows, a different door than the one Ranwell took us
down, wide and round instead of square, with two handles of worked stone. Ash lifted
them both and rolled the door aside. You first, he said. I ll shut the door behind us.
The warmth of kitchen fires and the smell of smoking meat rose from below. I
made my way down the short ladder and hopped from the last rung, waiting for Ash to
make his own way down.
This way, he said, and I followed. He had retained his wolf-skin cloak it
flowed out behind him like a dark, furry wing. He led me away from the central hub of
the barrows, down one of the twisting hallways that formed its spokes. They were low
ceilinged enough that he had to bow his head, though I did not.
Here.
He pushed open a low, crude wooden door. The chamber we entered was small,
though at least he could stand up straight beneath the roof. It had been dug out of the
Forest of Glass 95
earth. Thick wooden beams shored up the walls; sweet-smelling rushes served as a
floor.
I glanced around. On one wall a small bookcase was fixed to the wooden beam. A
three-legged stool stood underneath it. In one corner stood a chamber pot of cracked
white porcelain; in another his bed, a straw mattress on a heavy wooden frame, covered
with a blanket of motley wolf skins, gray and white and black and one as red as blood,
all clumsily sewed together with leather thread.
If you want, he said, I ll take you back to the blossom gallery and set you
loose. There was an odd, strained pride in his voice. Whatever you can say about
Richalmer, his quarters are a damned sight better than mine.
I watched him for a moment. Why didn t we stay up there in the canopy?
He laughed, shrugging off his black cloak. Because if they saw me not fucking
you, they d whine I was ruining the game and then Beleth might have told me to set
you loose.
I balled my fists and looked away from him. Ruining the game, I echoed.
Go on then. Make your choice.
I ve made my choice. I met his mismatched eyes. I made my choice when I
came with you, didn t I?
He spread his arms, encompassing his room. In truth it seemed more of a
prisoner s cell than the quarters of a guest or a valued servant. But now you ve seen
this. And you re used to silk and clean water, aren t you?
I ve seen worse. It wasn t a lie, not quite though I had never spent the night in
Castle Calish s dungeons.
He snorted, went to the bookcase, and took out a heavy volume. He pulled up the
stool. The bed is yours, he said. I ll have to stay with you, but I won t bother you.
He sat on the stool; his book fell open at a well-read crease in his lap.
96 John Tristan
I took the bed, biting my lip. I tangled my hands in the wolf-skin blanket. It was
queerly soft. What am I to do?
He watched me a moment. Then he rose, grabbed a book from the shelf, and
tossed it to me. I caught it and looked up at him, eyebrows raised.
I don t have anything better.
That I shook my head, blood rushing to my face. The book swam in my sight,
title illegible. My voice burst out in a yelp of frustration. You ve caught me. Why don t
you take what s your due?
He put his own book down and came to kneel before me. You think I m insulting
you, don t you?
I don t know what I think. My breath hitched in my throat. I still remembered
the feel of him in my mouth, hot and alive, remembered the muscles in his legs tensing
under my hands. Now here he knelt before me, the shadow from my dreams, and all he
wanted to do was read.
Gently, he took the book from my fingers; I d curled them around it like claws.
The Fair simply take what they want, but that s not my way. I ve lived among them
long enough, but they won t turn me into one of them.
From this close, I could see a few threads of iron gray in his black hair, the traces
of crow s feet at the corner of his eyes; whether he was thrice or four times ten, I could
not tell. A pale scar marred the corner of his mouth. I had not noticed it before. Older
than the rest, it looked as if once, a long time ago, he d bitten through his lip.
I raised my hand, laid it against his cheek. His jaw clenched underneath my hand;
I traced the dark shadows of his stubble. And what if I were to offer?
He laughed harshly and drew away. You think that s all I want from you? You
think that s all anyone wants, to get the chance to plow you?
Forest of Glass 97
I let my hand drop. When I spoke again my voice was cold. Whatever you want,
sir, I said, I m grateful that you took me. If just so I don t have to be& plowed& by
Andrey.
He stood up and turned away. It doesn t matter. Richalmer will get what he
wants, soon enough.
If you really think it doesn t matter, send me back. I bared my teeth, almost
echoing his snarl. Shove me out your door and be done with it.
98 John Tristan
Chapter Seventeen
Ash
For a moment, neither of us spoke. His shoulders rose and fell with his deliberate
breaths. I wouldn t do that, he said at last, with a shaky note in his rough voice
barely there, but still I heard it with my musician s ear. Stay. Please.
All right. I breathed out. I I m sorry. That was unworthy of me.
No need for that. He sighed. I ve got some food stashed if you re hungry.
Water or wine if you ve a thirst.
Water would be fine, I said.
He nodded and crouched to pull a trunk from under the bed. There were loaves of
bread wrapped in thin towels, small green apples, and a hunk of cheese in gauzy cloth.
He also had two wineskins, full to bursting, a large jug of water, and a single stoneware
cup. He poured the water for me. It tasted cool and earthy; I savored every sip.
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