When he sighed, his breath lifted her head and settled it gently back down. "I can't. I'll stay until the rain fades a little. But Muhatia-cha's been watching me ever since you sent me out with Wilsincha. He's just waiting for an excuse to break me down."
"He's just jealous," Liat said.
"No, he's jealous and he's in control of my wages," Itani said, a wry amusement in his voice. "That makes him more than just jealous."
"It isn't fair. You're smarter than he is. You know numbers and letters. All the others like you better than him. You should be the overseer."
"If I was the overseer, the others wouldn't like me as much. If Little Kiri or Kaimati or Tanani thought I'd be docking their pay for being slow or arriving late, they'd say all the same things about me that they do about Muhatia. It's just the way it is. Besides, I like what I do."
"But you'd be a better overseer than he is."
"Probably so," Itani agreed. "The price is too high, though."
The pause was a different kind of silence than it had been before. Liat could feel the change in Itani's breathing. He was waiting for her to ask, waiting for her to push the issue. She could feel him flowing away, distant even before she spoke. Because he knew she would. And he was right.
"Did you ask Wilsincha about other opportunities?"
"Yes," he said.
"And?"
"He didn't know of any at the time, but he said he'd see what he could find."
"That's good, then. He liked you. That's very good," and again the pause, the distance. "If he offered you a position, you'd take it, wouldn't you?"
"It would depend on the offer," Itani said. "I don't want to do what I don't want to do."
"Itani! Look past your nose, would you? You'd have to. If the head of House Wilsin makes you an offer and you turn away, why would he ever make another one? You can't build a life out of refusing things. You have to accept them too—even things you don't want sometimes. If they lead to things you do want later on."
Itani shifted out from under her and stood. She rolled up to a sitting position. Itani stretched, his back to her, and he made the cell seem small. Her desk, her ledgers, a pile of ink blocks, waxed paper sticking out from between them like pale tongues. A wardrobe where her robes hung, and Itani, the muscles of his back shifting in the candlelight.
"Some nights, I feel like I'm talking to a statue. You're in your twentieth summer. This is my seventeenth," she said severely. "So how is it I'm older than you?"
"Maybe you sleep less," Itani said mildly. When he turned back to her, he smiled gently. He moved with animal grace and so little padding between his muscles and his skin that she felt she could see the mechanism of each motion. He crouched by the cot, resting his head on his hands and looking up at her. "We have this conversation over and over, sweet, and it's never changed yet. I know you want more from me than—"
"I want you to want more for yourself, 'Tani. That isn't the same thing."
He took a gentle pose asking permission.
"I know you want more from me than a laborer's life. And I don't imagine I'll do this forever. But I'm not ashamed of it, and I won't do something I like less so that someone someday might give me something that they think I'm supposed to want. When I want something, that will be different."
"And isn't there anything you want that you don't already have?"
He rose, cupping her breast in his hand and gently, carefully pressing his lips to hers. His weight bore her back slowly to the labyrinth of cloth that had been her sheets and netting. She pulled back a fraction of an inch, keeping so close that when she spoke, she could feel her lips brushing his.
"What kind of answer is this?" she asked.
"You asked me about things I want," he murmured.
"And you're distracting me instead of answering the question."
"Am I?"
His hand brushed down her side. She felt the gooseflesh rise as it passed.
"Are you what?"
"Am I distracting you?"
"Yes," she said.
The knock at the door startled them both. Itani leapt up, chagrin showing on his face as he pawed the shadows, looking for the rough cloth of his pants. Liat drew her sheet around her. To the silent question in Itani's eyes she shook her head in bewilderment. The knock came again.
"A moment!" she said, loud enough to carry over the rain. "Who's there?"
"Epani Doru," the voice shouted from the other side of the thin door. "Wilsincha sent me to ask whether he might have a word with you."
"Of course. Yes. Just give me a moment."
Itani, trousers located, tossed her robes to her. She pulled on the inner robes, then grabbed a fresh outer robe from the wardrobe. Itani helped her fasten it. She felt her hands trembling. The voice of House Wilsin wanted to speak with her, and outside the normal hours of labor. It had never happened before.