The Diary of a Concubine

　　I had long thought that no one can surprise me any more.

　　It was a chance meeting in the Trader's Inn. He sat in the centre of the table, looking no different than any other noble lords. I could not remember what made me approach him. I did know it would benefit my business with Egan if we could have the favour of a noble. But that in itself is not enough for what happened later.

　　Insulted, he said. Yet he told me how to make amends through the Way. His telephatic instructions left me confused. I was not very good at the Way, so I obeyed anyway. I stripped my shirt. I could feel the eyes feasting on my form. I felt no embarrassment or shame. They did not matter. Only his thought and opinions would determine my fate. The Nobility does what they want, the Commoners are cheap as dirt, the Templarates serve their own purpose. I understand the workings of the city well.

　　His cousin was there, the Senior Lady. He took her offer to borrow her whips. Another would have feared and be terrified. I know I should have been. But I was not. There is no room for fears. I recall, dimly, how I looking forward to the pain. It would have filled the emptiness.

　　Two lashes. But they hurt. The price for my temerity? He seemed satisfied and took me with him. Despite myself, I was intrigued. I had hoped for a little work tossed my way. And after the lashes, to chase me out of his presence. But he offered more than that. Far more.

　　It seems I can still be surprised, after all.

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