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be of aid. He would be honoured to attend upon the guild. Immediately, if
permitted.
Would cease seeing patients, of course, if they requested it. Was entirely in
their hands. And, in passing, might his distinguished visitors wish to join
him in dining with the Master of the Senate tonight?
They registered that last remark, more than anything else. Declined the offer,
of course, but noted it, along with where he was staying.
Whose house it was. Access to corridors of power. The possibility he might be
someone not to be offended.
One could be amused, really. Men were the same all over the world.
Rustem escorted the two Sarantine doctors to the door, promised to be at the
guild rooms by mid-morning tomorrow. Begged their expert assistance in all
matters there. Bowed. Expressed, again, his contrition and the degree to which
he was gratified by their visit and looked forward to sharing their knowledge.
Bowed again.
The steward, expressionless, closed the door. Rustem, an eccentric mood coming
upon him, actually winked at the man.
Then he went up to attend to the streaking of his beard again (it needed
regular care) and change for dinner at the Senator's house.
Bonosus had been asked by the patient to come here. He probably would. By now
Rustem had a pretty good idea of the importance of the wounded man asleep in
the next room. Charioteers and holy men. He wondered if he'd be able to turn
tonight's dinner talk to the possibility of war. Too soon, he decided. He had
just arrived, spring was only beginning. Nothing could or would happen at
speed, surely.
Except the racing, he thought.
Everyone in Sarantium-even the dying-seemed to be thinking about chariots. A
frivolous people? He shook his head: too hasty an assessment, likely wrong.
But in his new role as an observer of the
Sarantines for the King of Kings he would have to attend the
Hippodrome, he decided, like a physician visiting a patient.
It came into his mind abruptly to wonder if Shaski liked horses. He realized
that he didn't know, and that since he was so far from home
he couldn't ask.
It changed the feel of the afternoon, for a time.
When the Senator came, late in the day, his manner was grave and brisk. He
noted the changed downstairs rooms without comment, heard
Rustem's account of the night before (with, as promised, no mention of the
boy), and then entered the room of Scortius and firmly closed the door behind
himself.
Rustem had urged him to keep the visit brief and Bonosus did so, coming out a
short while later. He said nothing, of course, about the conversation that had
taken place within. They were carried by litter to his principal residence. He
remained singularly distracted during the dinner that followed.
It was an immensely civilized evening, nonetheless. The guests were served
wine as they entered by the Senator's charming daughters:
clearly the children of an earlier wife, the one here was much too young to be
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their mother. The two girls withdrew before the party was led to the dining
couches.
Rustem's experience of such things owed more to his time in Ispahani lands
than to any encounters at home, of course. Kerakek was not a place where
invisible music played softly through the evening and impeccable servants
hovered behind each couch, attentive to the least hint of a need. Under the
polished guidance of the Senator's wife
Rustem was made welcome with the other guests, a Bassanid silk merchant (a
courteous touch, that) and two Sarantine patricians and their wives. The
Senator's wife and the other two women, all elegant, poised and at ease, were
much more conversational than those in
Ispahani ever tended to be at such gatherings. They asked him a great many
questions about his training, his family, drew him out on the subject of
adventures in Ispahani lands. The mysteries of the far east, rumours of magics
and fabled creatures, held an obvious fascination here. There was a discreet
avoidance of Rustem's dramatic arrival in Sarantium the morning before; the
drama, after all, had been occasioned by the Senator's son-who was nowhere to
be seen. It became clear that no one knew about the equally dramatic
late-night events involving the charioteer. Bonosus said nothing. Rustem
wasn't about to bring it up.
A physician owed a duty to his patient. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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