She smiled as she slipped her arm through his in a gesture of familiarity. Amirantha had dealt with flirtatious women all his life and knew he had been judged and found appropriate enough to warrant further scrutiny. He considered the oddity of this culture’s social constraints if a woman this attractive and bright might consider a foreign scholar of modest means a suitable substitute for a man of rank in her own nation; then he remembered women of her age who saw their child-bearing years coming to a close and reconsidered. She might be ready to marry the first man who asked.

He sighed and considered his need for pleasure and weighed it against possible injury to her.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

“You sighed, and a rather heavy one at that.”

He smiled. “Oh, just the amount of material yet to be considered is daunting,” he lied. He would dismiss the servant after lunch. The pile was manageable enough now for him to sort through it, and now that he was becoming used to the manner in which Quegans recorded their personal histories, business records, and the other sea of useless trivial piled up inside the archives, he should be able to get through the bulk of this by supper.

“Perhaps you might stay longer?”

He smiled as he looked at her and saw that his instincts in this were almost certainly correct; this woman needed to find a husband and start a family. With a pang he realized that he didn’t find the idea repellent, just impossible.

He shook his head. “As I understand it, the agreement between your Emperor and the King of Isles is three days, no longer. As I am but a companion to the official researchers…” He shrugged.

“I might talk to someone,” she ventured.

“I live a very long way from here,” he said neutrally, but she took his meaning.

She fixed him with a narrow gaze and pulled away ever so slightly. “You have a wife?”

“No, nothing like that,” he said. “My work…consumes me.”

“Ah,” she said as if that explained everything.

They remained quiet until they reached the room set aside for their meal. A modest lunch by Quegan standards, but a small feast by anyone else’s, was waiting for them. A moment after Amirantha had been shown through the door, Pug and Magnus arrived. Their escort and Livia withdrew, leaving the three of them alone.

“Anything interesting?” asked Pug as he picked up a stoneware plate and a long two-pronged fork and began putting cheese, meat, and fruit on his plate.

“Nothing worth being excited over,” answered the Warlock. He pointed to a large pitcher of water then another with wine and his expression was a question.

“Water, please,” said Magnus. “Wine with lunch and I’m asleep all afternoon.”

Pug nodded, and Amirantha said, “Three goblets of water it is.”