In which Warin and Emmae get busy:
"I feel your wishing," she said in trembling Old Sairish. "I feel your wishing to touch me, to do--things--with me--I know not the words in this tongue! And I wish these touchings, too! How is this? You are a stranger!"Read more -->
Warin brushed her tears away with his thumb, and then kissed her; she opened her mouth to him with a moan approaching a wail. Perhaps she was a gift; perhaps the Lovers had given her to him for consolation. He pressed her close at the thought. She neither fought nor protested, but only followed, never leading. "Will you come to bed with me?" he said. She whimpered, head down, and nodded. Warin frowned. "You do not have to. It is your choice." She nodded again, looking up at him through tears. He picked her up and carried her to his narrow bed, their clothes collecting in a heap beside it.