Martin enjoyed freedom others didn’t have, or rather, didn’t realize they lacked. Novices likely spared no thought for what might lie outside the temple or outside the market and better areas of E’Skaara. Martin mingled with the common folk, strangers from many lands, followers of the Father, and — tavernkeepers.
He turned his face to hide a smile. Tavernkeepers. “Don’t tell me you’d prefer haunting seedy dock taverns over this.” Martin waved a hand to indicate the opulent temple grounds.
Cere laughed, sending his ringlets bouncing with a head shake. “Oh no, my friend. You may have the alleyways, the stinking sewers, and the bad parts of the city where the common folk roam while I, myself, am safely tucked into my bed.” He waggled his brows. “And maybe not alone.”
Martin snorted. “When have you ever slept alone?” In the seasons of their friendship, Cere had filled out some but still remained lithe. And very attractive.
Cere slapped a hand over his heart, releasing a put-upon sigh. “We live such austere lives here. Why would I not take all the advantages offered?”
“Austere lives?” Martin pointedly raked his gaze up and down Cere’s body, from his copper curls down his green brocade jacket, purple breeches, and green velvet boots.
“Oh, yes. As I tell my family in my letters back home. Would you believe that they actually feel sorry for me?” Cere let out a musical laugh.
Martin rolled his eyes. If ever there was drama to be had, he’d find Cere in the center. “And pray tell, what lucky man or woman found themselves in your bed last night?”
Cere stretched his long legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms. The pose appeared so casual, a young man at leisure. Martin knew the stance for what it was: intended seduction, whether a conscious effort or not. “I couldn’t decide, so I took one of each.”
One of each? Martin would be content with one. The same one every night, in fact. Dangerous thoughts when such desires skirted the edges of the Father’s religion. “Then lucky for you to be a servant of the Lady and not the Father.”
“Oh, yes, very lucky for them. What about you, my friend?”
“What about me?”
“Have you been a good follower of the Lady and found a man or a woman to fill your bed? Or do you release your prey after capture?”
A good follower of the Lady. One who worshiped by indulging in pleasure. Well, Martin might certainly meet those criteria if given half a chance. He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Sadly, I read late into the night, alone in my room.” True enough, if he mentally added “after I came home in the wee hours“ to his confession.
Cere shivered. “I saw you with a Father’s priest a few times outside the gates. I don’t understand how you can spend so much time with him. He’s so… sinister.”
“Father Dmitri?” Really? Martin found Father Dmitri friendly if a little contained.
“Yes! He’s always covered head to toe. Have you ever even seen his face?”
No, Martin never caught sight of Dmitri’s face. “No, I haven’t. What’s it to me if he stays covered?”
Cere grinned, whispering, though none were near enough to overhear, “They say he’s horrendous under there. No nose, one eye.”
Martin barked a laugh. “He’s far too keen of sight to be missing an eye.” He dismissed the rumor, though why he felt the need to defend one friend from another eluded him. But, wait! Martin considered Dmitri a friend?
“Still, it’s funny, don’t you think?” Cere continued. “Do the other priests cover themselves?”
Martin thought back over glimpses in the dark: no triumphant flash of teeth, hand signals always given with gloves. “I’ve only met a few. All stay covered. Just the priests, though. The acolytes dressed like common men.”
“Are they ugly?”
“What?”
“The acolytes. Are they ugly?”
“Well, the Lady takes the pretty ones, so all that’s left is ugly, right?” Martin snapped his mouth closed. The acolytes were far from ugly, but they seemed to strive to be plain. Would they be beautiful in the finery Cere wore for worship?
Probably.
Until recently, Martin’s unkind words wouldn’t have bothered him. Now he felt the need to peer over his shoulder to see who stood there.
A vision filled his head of a very non-ugly tavernkeeper who followed the Father’s teachings, more or less, with the pendulum definitely swinging toward “less“ as of late, with his subtle flirting. Would Cere consider Peter too coarse for beauty? “The value of a man lies not in his looks.” While Martin usually enjoyed conversations with Cere, he needed to hurry past the pleasantries and get to the true purpose of his visit.
Cere made a big show of an eye roll. “You’ve been hanging around those priests too long. You’re starting to sound like them. But looks sure don’t hurt.” Cere laughed, reminding Martin of the youngster he’d been when Martin first arrived.
