Kinrove’s face flushed, and next to me, I heard Likari give a small whimper of fear. Soldier’s Boy stood firm and Olikea stood tall beside him. Whatever their earlier quarrel had been, they now stood united. The movement in the room had stilled. Outside the tent, the music thumped and squawked and the endless line of dancers shuffled on. It was a sound as eternal as the waves rushing against the beaches. I recognized it for magic and felt the drag of it against my senses. I wished it would stop so I could think more clearly.

I think Kinrove must have given her some sign, for Galea suddenly left his side and came bustling toward us. “Come, this is a poor way for us to begin. See, Nevare of the People, the bath that Kinrove ordered prepared for you awaits you now. And there is food and drink, freshly made, with which all of you can be refreshed. After you have relaxed a while we will all think more clearly and can begin to know one another. Come. Come.”

These last words she spoke not to us, but to a gaggle of young assistants that she beckoned forward. They moved cautiously as if they feared they were throwing themselves into a fray, but Galea’s face grew stern at their hesitation, and they suddenly came forward in a rush of brightly colored robes and reaching hands.

For the next few moments, I was almost glad it was Soldier’s Boy who was wearing my body rather than me. At first he stood stern, arms crossed still. Then, as if he were offering them an honor, he slowly opened his arms and held them out from his side. Olikea did the same and Likari copied her. Kinrove’s servants disrobed them, removing their garments respectfully. Two scuttled up behind me with a throne, so that Soldier’s Boy might be seated while they drew off my boots and socks. Off to one side, the slighted and insulted young woman sulked, her angry magic virtually glowering around her. Her feeders, two men, whispered and patted at her, trying to soothe her. No one else seemed to pay attention to her at all. All around us, the previous bustle and noise of the pavilion had suddenly resumed, as if some dangerous crisis had passed, as perhaps it had. The three of us were escorted to our bath.

There was a feel of ritual to it that perhaps put the others at ease, but to me it was a bizarre experience. I’d never shared a bath with anyone, let alone a woman and small boy, nor been attended throughout it by people who thought it their duty to scrub and rinse my back, to be sure that my feet were clean even between my toes, let alone support me while I lay back so that yet another attendant could massage a fragrant soap through my hair and then rinse it out. Olikea supervised all these attentions in a very possessive way, and Likari soon joined in, warning them sternly not to get soap into my eyes and to be very gentle where my feet and legs were scratched from my barefoot days in the forest. After Soldier’s Boy had clambered from the tub and was being toweled dry, Olikea and Likari received similar attention. Olikea maintained a dignity that said such was only her rightful due, but Likari wriggled like a happy puppy and exclaimed over the wonderful smells of the soaps and oils.

Galea’s assistants quickly surrounded me. It alarmed me and I tried to warn Soldier’s Boy to be on his guard against treachery. He either ignored or did not heed me as he relaxed in their hands. Three women were drying him carefully, lifting the folds of flesh to be sure that no moisture was trapped anywhere, while others were combing out my hair and dressing it with a fragrant oil. My feet were massaged and anointed, the many small scratches and abrasions on my calves were tended, and then two young women smoothed a buttery unguent onto them. My nails were carefully and gently trimmed and cleaned. Soft slippers were brought for my feet, and my own robe restored to me. A smoking table was set up near my chair, and an array of tobacco of various shades of brown displayed for my choice. Olikea shook her head firmly and motioned them all away, much to the amusement of Kinrove’s feeders. “I do not allow him to have that,” she said firmly, and while some of Kinrove’s assistants nodded their approval, others rolled their eyes at Soldier’s Boy in mock sympathy. Clearly my feeder managed my health with a strict hand.

Throughout all these attentions, the business of the pavilion had gone on about us. A number of emissaries had come and gone, and strain as he might, Soldier’s Boy had been unable to hear much of what had transpired. Some seemed intent only on buying the goodwill of the Great Man; these ones brought tribute in the form of all sorts of food and rich goods. One, an older woman, had come seeking some sort of a boon from him. It was solemnly refused her, and she left weeping and angry, escorted from the pavilion by several of Kinrove’s feeders. At this turn of affairs, the young female Great One looked more displeased and sullen than ever. She watched with great disapproval as Soldier’s Boy was dried and tended. Her scowl was dark and threatening. And always, always, the endless drumming and thumping of the music and dancers went on like the beating of a giant heart. I longed for it to cease, for quiet to flood in and soothe me.