The dwarf answered her with a broad-toothed smile.
“Does he always talk like this?” Mala said to Drakis from the corner of her mouth.
“Only when he’s quiet,” Drakis sighed.
In the distance above them, a chime sounded twice.
“I must go,” Mala said at once, pulling her hands back through the bars and quickly moving down the sweeping curve of the corridor that led from the chakrilya toward the central garden of the subatria. “Will they pair us tonight? After Devotions?”
Drakis smiled and called after her. “If it is the Emperor’s Will.”
“And why should it not be?” Mala said brightly before dashing down the polished stones on her bare feet. “What should the Emperor have against me?”
Drakis smiled and turned, to find the dwarf gazing up at him thoughtfully.
“You have a problem, dwarf?” Drakis was feeling suddenly annoyed with his diminutive trophy.
“Oh, not at all, not at all,” Jugar replied thoughtfully. “She seems like the absolutely perfect woman.”
“She is perfect,” Drakis said with pride.
“Then I’m very sorry for you,” Jugar said.
“What did you say?”
“Ah, well,” the dwarf continued, “you can’t make a country without cracking a few heads, eh? Perhaps you should tell me something about this ceremony tonight. I wouldn’t want to make a mistake and embarrass you. That reminds me, how are you feeling now, Drakis?
“Fine,” the human shrugged and then stopped.
He did feel fine.
The song was completely gone from his head.
“So how long did they say it would take?” Jugar asked nervously through chattering teeth. The naked dwarf squatted with his back wedged into the corner of the dim room, holding a large, brass ladle firmly in front of his manhood and appearing resolved never to move it. An iron grating overhead allowed square columns of light to fall into the room, casting the dwarf and the human in shadows of stark relief.
Drakis stood naked on the stone platform surrounding the circular trough in the center of the room. Clear water constantly overflowed its edges, splashing down over the stones before falling through a metal grating in the floor. He held his own ladle in one hand, scooping water from the trough and, pouring it over his head, cascading it down his powerful body. He then set the ladle down and picked up a pumice stone from the floor, lightly scraping at the dirt on his broad chest and forearms.
“How long for what?” Drakis asked casually.
“You know for what!” the dwarf’s voice almost broke in his nervous exasperation. “How long before that woman brings our clothes back!”
“Oh, that?” Drakis smiled to himself. He did not know much about dwarves beyond the easiest way to kill them and how they reacted in battle. He had imagined a great many things about them, but being prudish was not one of them. He was finding this fool of a dwarf to be most entertaining. “Essenia said that she would have them cleaned at once and bring them when they were fit to wear-although she appeared to have her doubts about getting your costume presentable. But, then, she had her doubts about you getting presentable either.”