Waving away a particularly pesky fly, Horn Lance stretched and sighed. He lay with one leg up, his head and back cushioned by textile-covered pillows. His skin felt delightfully cool as the sheen of perspiration dried on his stomach, crotch, and thighs.
He watched Wooden Doll as she stood and flipped her long hair back. A slight smile, as if reflecting a profound satisfaction, lay on her soft lips. His gaze traced the now-familiar lines of her face, her long neck, the angles of her broad shoulders. He relished the curves of her high breasts and jutting nipples, the smooth and muscular stomach. Her hips cradled that lush triangle of thick black hair before surrendering into long thighs. Had he ever known such a magnificent woman?
Even if he had, he’d never experienced a woman who could use her body with such art and imagination. The afterglow of every coupling left him warmly exhausted, a honeyed satisfaction burning from his loins to his core. Despite the vivid memory engraved in soul and flesh, could it have been real? Had he really experienced those sensations? Had she actually unleashed such passions from his aging body?
Or was it illusion, some fantasy spun of magic and Power that beguiled the soul, since such joys couldn’t actually be real?
“You look pleasantly exhausted.” She studied him through dark and thoughtful eyes. “Sometimes a nap can make the entire world right again. Most men seem to prefer a short respite. You will awaken refreshed, I assure you.”
He lightly fingered the bruise the thief had given him the night before. He had half a mind to go back and spend a finger or two of time adding to the fool’s misery.
“I have to go. You’ve kept me much longer than I planned as it is. I was supposed to be back in—”
She reached down and placed soft fingers against his lips. “Lie back, relax. If you simply must go, at least do so with a full stomach. I shall have a selection of meats, fish, greens, and stews available within a finger’s time.”
“Pus and blood, woman, I’d almost think you were thinking up ways of detaining me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked with a throaty laugh. “Do you think you were the only one to enjoy such an exceptional coupling? I don’t frivolously turn loose of a man who can do to me what you just did.”
“I pay you. Perhaps too well. No other woman in Cahokia has cacao to drink. And there’s not much of it left.”
“And you wonder why I don’t just toss you your clothes and throw you out?” She settled on the bed beside him. “You are no one’s fool, my lover. Nor am I. Here are the facts.” She ticked them off on her long fingers. “One. You and the Itza are the new force in Cahokia. Two. Be that as it may, you don’t know the intricacies of governing its Houses and clans. Three. Yes, you can rely on Green Chunkey, Columella, and some of the others. Four. They will do their best to manipulate you for their own advantage. Five. You do not know the personalities of the players, what their weaknesses and vulnerabilities are. Six. You will need someone you can trust to advise you. And, finally, I intend on being that person.”
Ah, yes, there was her angle. “You would be my wife?”
She made a face. “Don’t be absurd. And never underestimate me like that again. You need to marry women with a strategic and practical value. So does the ahau. I can help you with that. You need to found a ruling lineage, and the truth is you don’t have that many years left to do it.”
“Then what do you see as your role?”
Her level gaze held his as she said, “The Keeper’s position exists for a reason. If you’ve poisoned Blue Heron like you think you have, you’re going to need someone to serve the same function. Or did you think Swirling Cloud—ignorant and untrusted Natchez that he is—would step into that position?”
“Don’t underestimate me, either,” he shot back. “I’ve heard that Columella’s dwarf has connections.” Anticipating the exasperated lift of an eyebrow, implying he didn’t understand, he stated, “You’re going to tell me he serves her interests first. I know that. But … tell me about Columella. She’s married. Where’s her husband?”
“Gone as often as he can manage it, which suits them both.” Now the tilt of her eyebrow communicated agreement. “She’d be a splendid first match, though a bit old for more children. Don’t think you’d ever be able to win the dwarf’s loyalty. And do expect that he’ll be sharing her bed anytime you’re not in it.”
“Call him a small annoyance.” He delighted in his wit.
She was watching him the way an osprey did a small fish. “A smart man would give very careful consideration to my offer.”
He nodded slowly, eyes locked with hers. “You’ve already done me a great favor. But if you’re smart, you’ll get rid of the slave girl. She’s engaged in her own game. Just thought you’d like to know.”
A slight pinching of her expression was the only reaction. “I see.”
“And now, I’ve got to start back. It will already be dark by the time I reach the Grand Plaza.”
She watched him dress, her arms crossed, expression thoughtful.
When he walked out into the hot afternoon, he almost sighed at the sight of his litter. By the White Boned Snake, she’d drained him dry. Thankfully he’d be able to sleep all the way back. He didn’t dare let Red Copal and the rest know she’d worn him out; they’d tease him beyond toleration. Instead he flopped wearily onto the litter, already planning how to poison the tonka’tzi before the next quarter-moon.
He didn’t look back. Didn’t see when Wooden Doll opened her door just far enough to signal with a red cloth. Nor did he see the young man in a breechcloth rise from where he’d crouched in the shade of an overhanging roof. Even before the youth passed between the buildings, he’d broken into a hard run, headed east.