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___I slowly awoke; feeding my soul on comfort and safety.
___I mattered.
___Then my eyelids popped in shock.
___Under the door, light was seeping.
___Daylight.
___Jian’s breathing changed beneath me as he awoke as well.
___Daylight. This would be embarrassing.
___To put a bold face on it would be better, I decided.
___But, not just yet.
___I kissed him on his nose.
___“You should smile like that more often—” but I put my finger on his lips to hush him, holding him close before I faced the world again…drinking our contentment.
___Then I faintly whispered, “Quiet, Jian. I need to think.” Wasn’t there some other way to save my dignity, without parading brazenly—?
___Jian replied, in equal whisper,
___“As you wish, my wife.”
___I heard my throat clearly click.
___“What?!” That was what I tried to say. A dehydrated throat, belated prudence, and a dozen wild emotions, all conspired instead to make a quiet croak!
___Jian began to chuckle. “I’d best get up before you change back into a frog, I guess!”
___He disentangled from our couch, from his thin blanket, and from my thicker borrowed robe…a minute earlier, he would have found it far more difficult extricating himself from me!
___I dared not speak: my brain was reeling, trying to sort out too many things—be furious, or laugh at his naivete?!—and I would not announce my presence here, if possible.
___Jian quickly dressed, and buckled on his shortsword. It did look good on him…but I was not about to sanction this idea of being married, of all things!
___Still, he had me at a disadvantage: I couldn’t upbraid the impossible man without alerting all the others that I had gone to him last night!
___Yet he somehow understood my wish for some discretion. Edging to the door, he put his ear against it, nodded, and then tiptoed back to me again, smiling with his blasted cheerfulness!
___He didn’t touch me—I suppose my glare had some effect!—but he whispered: “They’re eating breakfast around the fire. Be prepared; I’ve got a plan.”
___With a wink, he listened at the door again—probably to ascertain that someone wasn’t passing by—and then he quickly, smoothly left the room with minimal movement of the door.
___I stood and cinched my robe around me—my robe now, most certainly, and not Qarfax’s! I eased to the door.
___“Good morning! We made it through the night together after all!” Coming from another man, this boisterousness might have seemed suspicious—
___“Look!” shouted Jian. “A Rogue Agent!”
___I nearly bit my tongue: he sounded so sincere, I almost thought he meant it! Then I cursed his foolishness: now their attentions would be surely redirected, but only for half a moment—nowhere near enough for me—
___“Ha-HAAAH!” Jian’s cry receded down the hall; over frantic scuffles and a muffled comment on his mother—“FIEND!” he thundered. “YOU MUST DIE!!”
___I threw his door as quietly as I could, and with the briefest right-hand glance, I heeled myself around the corner to my left and up the stairs.
___My glance was enough to see that Jian had drawn his sword and leapt the firepit, scattering men behind his charge downhall.
___I surged up stairs, two at a time. Below I heard Jian laughing.
___“I’m sorry for the joke,” he gasped. “You ought to see your faces!” And now I could hear him folding up in laughter, bouncing joy up stony stairs, echoing in my heart: I couldn’t help but laugh a little, too.
___I reached my room—my room now; it hadn’t felt that way the night before. Perhaps because the clear light shone through sashes of the window slits.
___Or, because Qarfax’s ashes now were smeared across the floor…
___my breathing froze against my dash upstairs—
___—then I laughed in horrified amusement: from the streak’s direction, and my memories of my leaving, I had dragged the robe across his ashes in my haste!
___I almost disrobed instantly; but too late now for squeamishness: I had been quite intimate in and with this robe already!
___What I really wanted, I decided, was a bath. Some breakfast, too, but first a bath. Last night I had observed, although I hadn’t cared to notice, a bathing basin made of brass, sitting on a rug of fur.
___I wasn’t keen on lugging water buckets up those stairs; but then I realized, that such a clever magus who enjoyed his comforts, might have made provision for this already.
___Putting some trust in him—a trust established on his lethal ingenuity!—I searched the bathing tub more closely. Soon I found small sigils traced above a pair of holes, near the top-edge of an end. They matched with two brass pipings down the outside of the tub and through the rug, into the floor.
___Excellent! I’d heard of tubs like this, although I hadn’t yet enjoyed one! A minute of experimenting; and then a stream of steamy water poured into the bath. A nearby dresser carried bathing implements, and even towels.
___I set aside my robe, and climbed into the basin, leaning back to let the rising water slowly cover me. I broke some soapbark chips to swirl for froth, luxuriating in the smell and feelings, sighing in contented closing eyes…
___Someone walked into the room.
___Before I could yelp—
___“Good morning, Portunista!” Jian announced; his voice shone like the morning sun outside. “Oh, that’s a good idea! Congratulations!” I suppose he meant my bath.
___“What are you doing here?!” I sputtered—but then I saw the answer.
___“I brought breakfast!” he smiled, just like a child who had fixed up food for parents on a holiday.
___I couldn’t find sufficient phrases for a proper cursing. Partly, it was difficult to do so in the face of his affection for me. Also, I did want to eat some breakfast.
___And our love’s euphoria had not entirely vanished; the water was reminding me, with rising splendid power!
___On the other hand: I suspected why, from his perspective, he had brought the food. And he might as well have given proclamation we had spent the night together!
___My imagination melded these disturbing thoughts.
___“Jian,” I said, attempting calmness. “Did you tell anyone downstairs that you were bringing breakfast to your wife?” He was placing barely balanced meats and travel-bread upon a tray he’d found across my room.
___“Ah, um…” He looked up somewhat vaguely as he thought about it. “I don’t believe I told them I was bringing food to you. Although, why would I take two breakfast servings up those stairs?” he grinned at me. “And since I didn’t mention you, the answer to the second question also is a ‘no.’”
___I sighed. The sizzling breakfast meat, the aromatic soapbark, and the water’s rising kisses—all were eroding steadily any ability to think. The fact that Jian was in the room—my room—our room?—wasn’t helping, either.
___“Jian, please; I have a favor.” There wasn’t any use in shouting at the impossible man. “Don’t tell anyone that we are…wife and husband…” I managed not to lose my temper. “Not until I give permission.”
___And he shrewdly looked at me.
___And I knew my ploy had been transparent.
___But I didn’t care—so long as he would do what I requested.
___“Okay,” he answered quietly. “I will not tell anyone, until you give me your permission.”
___Again I sighed, and leaned back in the bath. Clearly, he would be firm about our being married, even if only in private.
___Then my mouth began to water for the stronger smell of food, as he walked to set the tray upon the bathing cabinet.
___“You know…” I heard him judiciously say, “that basin looks as though it could very comfortably hold two people.”
___And, as usual, he was correct.
___Afterward…I reclined upon him in my bed, looking at the sunlight playing on the ceiling overhead…not focusing on anything, just looking. My bed now—not a dead man’s bed. The bed itself no longer seemed a cold dead thing; two living things now shared it in their mutual contentment. Had our spirit passed into it…? I lazily perused. And what about the quitch? I once had heard that quitchgrass had a spirit of its own, to share with those who slept upon it. Was that supposed to be good or bad? Probably good. It certainly seemed to feel very good. Better than this bed? Or only different? Something about that grass was bothering me. I couldn’t hold the thought; I let it drift away, and didn’t worry. The thought had come already more than once.
___The light’s reflection from the polished floor, diffused, had crossed the ceiling with the passing sun. Now the men would have conclusive evidence: taking extra food upstairs was one thing; staying there for hours was another.
___I vaguely cursed beneath my breath; but this annoyance couldn’t breach contented joy. Let them know. At least their confirmation now would come from Jian’s own coming up to me. So, it didn’t matter.
___No, better: everything mattered now. Now it was fine for everything to matter.
___This trace of a thought reminded me of husbandry, somehow. My satisfied inertia dampened even that annoyance. I am brigade commander—and soon I shall be a queen, I dreamily thought. I could have a consort. That pleasantly settled that ridiculous notion.
___I breathed, enjoying breathing; and I shifted once or twice, enjoying movement. Everything was very satisfactory. I was glad that I had gone, to do what I had done—I ignored the base intentions for my going—I was glad I hadn’t tried to sleep alone in this dead bed, and joined with Jian instead upon his bed of living grass.
___And now my bed was also full of life.
___And Jian had come to me.
___The grass would do much better in this room, I thought. I’d order Jian to bring the frame and sod. Or cut new sod, if necessary, since the grass must now be dead from want of light and water after spending seasons in that room. Here it would surely grow, lush and green—with water from the basin, even!
___The grass…Something about that grass was bothering me. I couldn’t hold the thought; I let it drift away, and didn’t worry. The thought would come again; for it had come again already more than—
___“Jian!” I shouted—or I gulped, as panic cut through bliss. I bolted upright on the bed, and looked down at the startled man.
___“Someone has been here!” I exclaimed. “…and planning to return!"
Which from the quitch’s perspective generates excess non-waste proteins not being used by the animals. Everybody wins. The effects are slight enough however that most people simply regard the effects as rural tradition.
