wretched and wonderful: rest

After slitting five more throats, Lyuben followed Darzi.  They walked the grey streets in silence.  He was too tired, too sore, too sticky in these leathers, and those were the only words which occurred to him.  Over and again all the long way back from the [District], the words rung within him.


Nusquam was divided into walled districts, nine within the city's original perimeter, twelve inside the outer battlements, and four "informal wooden affairs" as the city's aristocracy called them. Darzi's shop was in [District], one of the twelve. The first decade of Lyuben's life had been spent within the patchwork palisades of [District]. Though the name persisted, the [District] he knew had burned down five and ten years ago. They'd picked through the ashes and bones then rebuilt on the western edge of the city's walls.
They'd kept to the shadows all night, but now Darzi, humming, was walking down the center of the streets.  Now and again, she reached back to touch his arm.  Even after five years with her, each touch was a shock. Each touch brought his shoulders up.  He winced in anticipation, but nothing ever followed her touch.  No ill words, no demands, no anger or hurt—it confused him.
When they passed through the thick wooden gates to [District], Darzi slipped a ring of keys loose.  They jingled against her thigh as she walked.  The streets were still in the grey of early morning, and each step echoed with the tink of metal keys through the thin passages between the mad tangle of shops and homes.  Each step brought them closer.  Soon they'd be back at the shop.  Soon he could strip down, clean himself, and fall into bed, into sleep.  The thought propelled him forward even when every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to lie down.  Right there on the smooth stones beneath all the dirt and the refuse.
Darzi touched him.  Her fingers grazed the leather of his glove.  Gritting his teeth, he forced his shoulder down.  She took a step back and walked beside him. His eyes remained down, on the stones beneath their feet.
"You don't have to follow behind me."
"But I am your apprentice."
"Yes, not my slave."  She touched him again.  Her fingers grabbed at his arm. "You are not below me."
He chanced a glance up, and she winked at him.
"Unless you want to be," she grinned.
He looked down.  She gave his arm a squeeze then released him.  They continued on, the keys jingling against her leg with every step.  She led the way back around the side alley, to the shop's rear entrance.  The bottom floor was dominated by the showroom: racks and racks of bolt after bolt of textiles all arranged around a sitting area.  Though the furniture was all lounging couches, in the style of Liberi, but Lyuben had no other word for it.  He spent little time there.  It was surrounded by towering mannequins with empty faces.  Darzi dressed them every morning before opening the front door and setting out their road sign.  Lyuben spent his days in the back.  Working the loom or struggling to mimic her needlework or mumbling obscenities at ledgers, Lyuben stayed busy in the rear two rooms: the large workshop, and his narrow room.  They'd entered in the workshop, but he had his eyes on the heavy wool hanging between him and his mattress on the floor.  She locked the door behind them.
"I shouldn't say things like that."
He stopped.  "That depends."
"Does it?"
He kept his eyes on the wool.  "What time do we open?"
She chuckled a sharp "Ah.  It's a market day.  When do we usually open on market days?"
With a sigh, he began unbuckling his leathers.  He crossed toward his bed.  Peeling the armor from his chest, he sighed again.  She whistled at him.  Soft, in a looping melody he recognized from caravan guards.  He turned back.
"You need a bath," she grinned.  She waved at the air before her nose.
Hitching up his shoulders, he mumbled, "I apologize."
"No, I apologize. Why didn't you say something?" She shook her head. "Been sweating all night, haven't you?"
"I'll be clean and presentable by the eighth hour."
"You'll be clean and in bed.  Go on up.  I'll bring you hot water."
He stared at her a long moment.  "This means I have to work tomorrow, doesn't it?"
"I'll take care of today.  You go upstairs and rest."
"And tomorrow—?"
"More rest."  She paused then shook her head.  "Well, you should train, but otherwise—don't worry.  I ran this place alone before you."
"You had Radana."
"A fair point."
"I could be up at noon—"
"Upstairs!"  She pointed the way.  "Rest!  Until I say otherwise, you hear?"
He lingered.  He wanted to argue, even if every bit of him ached.  Snapping fingers at him, she herded him to the stairs.