15 Chapter 15

The hallway opened up unto the head of a broad staircase leading to an inner courtyard, and she stared in awe at the view of the triple moons and scattered stars. Slowly she sank down to absorb the view. The evening breeze caressed her cheek, pleasant with the scent of flowers. Her guard settled unobtrusively against the wall.

After a time, curiosity got to her. "You guys don't talk much, do you?" she said softly, loathe to break the serenity of the night. To her surprise, the Haunt answered her in the sign language she'd seen the guards use. When she continued to watch him, he repeated himself slowly, fingers to chest, an inclination of his head and then fingers to lips.

"You do talk?" she guessed, intrigued. Hm. This could be fun. Maybe these guys weren't too bad after all. She eyed him and decided to accord him a healthy respect, just in case.

She gestured to the stair just above her, but he didn't move. Frowning, she chewed the inside of her bottom lip. "You're on duty?" He inclined his head again and she relaxed, leaning back against the wall and hugging her knees. Touching the spot over her heart, she asked, "The patch, is it an indication of rank?" One nod. "Are you higher ranking than the last guy?" Yes.

Well now, this wasn't so bad. As long as she asked yes or no questions, they'd get along just fine. Scratching her jaw, she stifled a yawn. "Are there Haunt women? I guess there are, but all I've seen are guards. Not that I've seen a lot of this place. Are you married?"

He started slightly, but slowly shook his head.

"Me neither. It's got its advantages, though. There's something to be said for only answering to myself. Though sometimes…" she trailed off. The steps were hard, and she shifted, trying to get comfortable.

The Haunt was an indistinct outline even in the moon-flooded night, and she squinted, trying to see him better. "You see better than I do at night, don't you? And hear better?" He affirmed it, and she considered the matter further. "And your sense of smell...is it much better than mine?" Yes. "As good as a dog's?" This time, when he agreed with her, she shivered, reminded of their differences. What else might be alien between them? Her toes curled. "Are you stronger than humans, faster? Is that why all the Haunt are guards?" He stared at her, and in the moonlight his eyes reflected red.

She shut up, and it was a long time before she got up the nerve to move.

***

Jasmine slapped a deck of cards and a decanter of honey liquor on the table. "Prepare to lose, Wiley. I'm feeling lucky tonight."

"Ha!" Wiley plunked down a drawstring bag full of little snail shells. Next to it she set a platter of raw vegetables arranged around a hollowed red pepper filled with creamy dip. "You, my friend, are going down."

Jasmine made a face at the platter and got up to rummage in the pantry of the suite Wiley shared with Jayems. Emerging triumphant with a jar of hot pickles and a bag of sour candies, she packed them to the dining table and went back to search the cold pantry for some cold cuts. Already she missed cheese.

"What are you doing?" Jayems asked as he entered the kitchen with Keilor and Knightin in tow. For some reason, Wiley colored.

"Poker," Jasmine answered. She returned to the table, a large plate of sausages filling her hands and bottle of fiery mustard clamped under one arm. She set those down and went back to reconnoiter the kitchen cupboards.

"What are you doing, Jas, preparing to feed an army?" Wiley asked. She leaned one hand on the table and rested the other on her hip. "Keep this up and there won't be room to play."

"Nag, nag, nag," Jasmine muttered, her voice muffled in the depths of the cupboard, blissfully unaware of the two sets of interested male eyes wandering over her derriere. Twin fires sparked in Knightin and Keilor's eyes as she bumped her head on something and wriggled.

Knightin came to his senses first and jerked his eyes away in annoyance. "On second thought, Jayems, I'll pass on that drink. I just remembered I have some things to deal with before morning. Good evening."

Keilor barely spared him a glance before returning to savor the view. His vision fogged as he inhaled her scent. It was all he could do not to act on the fantasy playing out in his head.

Fingers snapped in front of his face and he blinked at the unwelcome intrusion.

"Your eyes were glazed, my friend," Jayems told him dryly.

Jasmine emerged with a package of savory rye chips, which she poured into a pieced wooden bowl. Munching on a handful, she took the bowl with her and settled into a chair. "Your deal," she told Wiley, leaning back in her chair. Glancing at the watching men she said briskly, "This is not a spectator sport, gentlemen. Play or get lost."

Jayems frowned with annoyance, but before he could remind her that she was in his kitchen, not hers, Wiley said, "Quit trying to rob them, Jas. You know they'd end up without a penny to their names." She poured liquor into two glasses, adding an extra splash in one of them.

Leering, Jasmine reminded her, "They use gold and silver here, remember?" She eyed the men calculatingly. "I think we ought to let them play, if they provide their own ante."

"Ante?" Keilor asked. He drifted closer and snagged a chip.

"Money, honey," Jasmine supplied, taking the glass with the least amount of liquor. "You'll also have to supply your own booze. I don't think there's enough here to put us all under the table."

"There isn't enough there to put one of me 'under the table'," Keilor said with disdain, and went in search of something stronger.

"We wager with real money while you use snails?" Jayems asked with a scowl, pulling out a chair.

"What are we supposed to wager, our virtue?" Jasmine retorted, getting up to grab a glass of juice. All that salt was making her thirsty. Keilor had just returned to the room as she said that, and he froze in his tracks.

Jayems looked at Wiley out of the corner of his eye.

Wiley's eyes narrowed. "Forget it."

"I don't know, I think the idea has merit," he answered smoothly.

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