Page 73 of Stardust Child

Or maybe it was all in his mind, andhewas the one overthinking things. Remin huffed internally and shoved the whole problem away.

“We’ll go slow,” he said, swinging up into his own saddle. “If you feel like you’re slipping, say something and we’ll stop.”

“I will.” The smile she flashed looked more or less real. Together they turned down Eugene Street, with Remin explaining how to hold and tug the reins and Brambles gradually angling like a huge ship slowly coming about.

“He’s not listening, he’s just following your horse,” Ophele said, tugging fruitlessly on the reins. “Brambles, gee. Why do I have to saygee?Why can’t I just saygoright?”

“I don’t know,” Remin said, blinking. Draft animals were always trained to obeyhawandgee.His own horse was scarcely more cooperative; the black brute kept tossing his head and bouncing his hindquarters, irked by the slow pace and the presence of the other horse, with Remin clinging like a burr to his back.

“He’s mad that you won’t let him run,” Ophele observed. “Usually, you gallop everywhere you go.”

“We are not galloping now.” Remin dug in his heels to prompt a fullbuck from the horse, and the beast subsided, blowing.

“Charger,” Ophele offered, watching the exercise with admiration. “I should have named this one Ambles.”

That made him laugh, and Remin relaxed.

“He doesn’t look like he’s going any faster, does he?” he said, giving her a half-smile. “But it’s still faster than going on your own feet, wife.”

“What about Dash? For yours.”

“That sounds like a foal’s name,” he replied, though he had no idea why.

“Dancer?” Ophele chewed her lower lip thoughtfully and then her eyes lit up. “No! Oh, I know, I know. Lancer!”

“Lancer…” Remin echoed. It was pure coincidence that the horse’s ears flicked at that moment, but Ophele gave a muffled squeal of delight. Part of him wanted to please her and part of him wanted to tease her, drag it out some more, but there was no way he could resist that look in her eyes.

“I guess that’s his name,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “It’s a good name.”

“Even for a noble warhorse?” she teased, and it seemed a fine day indeed when they came to the eastward curve of the road and she managed to prod Brambles into something like a trot, her hair flying. He watched her because he couldn’t help watching her when she had that glow in her bright eyes, and together they rode all the way to the bridge gate and turned around before Brambles decided he had worked enough for one day and dropped back to a trudge.

Should he say something now? She looked happy. Maybe this was the right moment to dispel any lingering misunderstandings. He would never inquire about her mother again, if it hurt her so. The thoughtful look in her eyes as they passed the distant mason’s camp gave him an opening.

“What are you thinking about, wife?” he asked in his gentlest voice, drawing Lancer up beside her. Maybe she was even thinking about whatever was bothering her.

“Prostitutes,” she said, and only then remembered to look around to make sure there was no one nearby to overhear.

“I—you are?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it, since that day,” she explained. “Remember, when I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know more about suchthings? And I have questions, but I can’t ask Sir Justenin or Sir Edemir…”

“You can ask me,” he suggested, floundering. This was not at all what he had expected her to say.

“Well, I thought they must be doing a bad thing, if I shouldn’t even talk about it,” she began. “But I don’t understand exactly why it’s bad. Is it only because they’re not married? Or is it because they want money for it? Is it only bad because it’s gold, or is it bad if they take anything at all in exchange for doing…that? Because that made me think of dowries, and political marriages, and I don’t see how it’s much different except for the…service provided and the duration. And if it’s bad to accept barter for it, then…well, we were strangers when we got married and you married me for my blood even though you love me now and I love you, but as a practical matter, does that mean—”

“No,” interrupted a thunderstruck Remin, with no logic whatsoever. “Marriage is different. Marriage is sacred. You said you had no cleric in Aldeburke?”

“We did when I was little, I think,” Ophele said, completely oblivious to the outrageousness of her comments and apparently unaware that she had implied one of them had prostituted themselves, and Remin had the uncomfortable suspicion that by her logic, it was him. “Do they teach about…this sort of thing?”

“Yes,” he said vehemently. He himself was not overly pious, but he still knew the basics; the sanctity of marriage was something he couldn’t even rememberhowhe had learned. He had just absorbed it, like air. How did she not know this? What the hell was wrong with the Hurrells?

“Oh,” Ophele said, small. “I do know…that marriage is different,” she said anxiously, looking away from him with color rising in her cheeks. “I just wondered, on philosophical principles…why do you think that it’s bad? Whattheydo?”

The flick of her eyes toward the mason’s camp identified thethey.Remin let himself frown as he thought it over. He had never been one to deeply ponder such things, but he had been listening to Ophele, Juste, Edemir, and Bram at supper for months and was willing to stretch himself.

“Marriage is like a treaty,” he said slowly. It was an analogy that made sense to him. “I guess that’s what our wedding was, wasn’t it? If two sidesagree that a patch of land belongs to someone, and they get up in front of everyone and announce that it does, and give everyone a chance to object if they have a problem with it, then it’s settled. That’s why it’s grounds for war if someone tries to take it afterward.”

“We did do that,” Ophele agreed, looking intrigued. “I didn’t think about the objection part.”

---