The many household slaves barely even caught her notice. Kara had been right about that. When one paid attention it was rather interesting to see the differences in how they all moved and carried themselves. You could tell the regular slaves from the… specialty slaves. Or at least that’s how she’d been coming to see them. Women like Penelope, who had some particular beauty or skill which made them more useful or entertaining, and therefore more valuable than others. The fact they knew their worth showed. It showed in the way they walked, regally and smoothly, and sometimes lightly, their chins up, their lips curled into a ghost of a smile, their eyes easily meeting those that dared meet theirs.
Unless they belonged to a simple household slave, in which case they were ignored. This seemed to suite the poor creatures who kept their eyes to the floor, and who, in comparison, seemed to stoop and scurry as if half-expecting to be struck. They were the most mouse like around the inhuman masters and mistresses of the place, but, she noticed, were wary around the slaves of higher standing.
Speaking of which…
They paused to greet a number of ‘specialty’ slaves, women of Penelope’s acquaintance, and Calliope was obliged to contribute to their joint exercise of contrived politeness.
She was quickly distracted, however, when she spotted Thelios’s brother, the Host, lingering with what looked like a number of human men. Two of them looked like the sort of servants that had been sent to Thelios with messages and another appeared to be a regular household slave. That is if their manner of dress was indicative of anything.
What was keeping her attention was the fact that he seemed to be watching them back, and as she flicked another glance out of the corner of her eye, she could swear he was looking specifically at her. She looked again and felt sure of it. There was an odd expression on his face, one which made her gut clench slightly.
“Penelope,” she leaned in, whispering under her breath, “am I daft or is he staring at me?”
Penelope waited a moment then gave a discreet glance of her own. “Can’t tell,” she muttered, “could be looking at anyone here.”
Somehow that wasn’t convincing or comforting. “Mm.” Was all she said, still watching cautiously out of the corner of her eye. She watched as he smirked and made some comment to his men. Then he looked right at her, catching her gaze and causing her mind to freeze up.
“Calliope?”
“Hm?” She started slightly, turning to the sound of her name.
“Anahita was just asking a question…” Penelope prompted.
Calliope smiled apologetically at the slender, dark haired women across from her. “My apologies, I was momentarily distracted. What was it you asked?”
The look she got in return was somewhat disdainful, but Calliope chalked it up to being put out at having been ignored. Besides, it was a common enough look, and she was no longer bothered by it. She kept her own expression as sweet and guileless as she dared without it seeming forced… even if it was rather.
The woman’s dainty chin lifted sharply, causing her strait, shoulder length hair to undulate like an inky, silk sheet. Calliope wondered if it was practiced movement, and then though of her own mass of incorrigible black curls and wondered how Anahita managed to keep her hair so incredibly smooth. Her only recourse was to simply force it into tight braids using a touch of oil and a good deal of practiced expertise.
“I was simply asking after your master. I noticed he has been missing in the evenings again. Has he taken ill? Or is he fighting with the other masters again? I noticed they seemed to be having terse words a few days ago… more than usual that is.”
Calliope tried to keep her face placid and mild as she regarded the woman. Internally she was watching her face, looking for some hint at what she might be driving at, who she might serve… oh god but she was becoming paranoid.
“I cannot say. It amused him to come, now I suppose it does not. His reasons are his own, and it is not my place to question them.”
“I doubt you’d get much of an answer if you tried.” A deep, male voice smoothed from behind her.
She started and turned to find the Host standing next to her. His startling nearness made her take a step back, a movement she tried to cover with a quick half bow. “Forgive me my lord, you startled me.” She husked. He, like the rest of Thelios’s relations here, was rather large compared to the humans, and she was obliged to look up at him to meet his gaze. Of course he wasn’t nearly so tall or broad as her master, so his size was less intimidating than it ought to have been.
He smiled, exposing wolfish teeth, not too unlike Thelios’s, if not more subtly arrayed. She decided she didn’t like the smile. It was too knowing. It seemed too personal… like something Thelios or Demitri would tease her with. She definitely didn’t like it coming from him.
He continued, not bothering to acknowledge her apology. “I’m sorry to hear we no longer amuse our dear brother. Though, if you were to grace us with a performance some night soon, that would certainly draw his interest. Don’t you think?”
She tipped her head in a conciliatory manner. “I did not mean to say that he doesn’t enjoy the entertainment offered, my lord.” She hastened, “I was simply expressing my lack of knowledge where my master’s motivations and desires are concerned.”
He looked amused by that. “Oh, somehow I doubt that.” The expression he wore was most definitely one to make her blush and she winced internally as she felt it begin to creep slowly up her throat. “But won’t you come and entertain us? My brother would not object to that at least, though he finds so much else to object to.”
She cleared her throat softly. “I am sorry my lord, but I have little to offer in that regard. For the rest, I cannot answer but for my own part; my master would indeed object to my performing. He has forbidden it.” That ought to put that notion to rest, she thought hopefully.
A strange look came over his face and the knowing quality in his smile seemed to intensify. “Is that so? How strange. I must have been mistaken.”
The nerves she had managed to suppress returned and it took every ounce of will to hold it in check. He didn’t know. He couldn’t… could he? “Mistaken, my lord?”
He looked pointedly at Penelope and she felt her stomach fall. “It’s nothing.” He smiled more broadly and made a dismissive gesture. “I know how hard it is to talk your master into anything, but do try… it will do him a world of good, I’m sure. If not, you might come anyway, without him.” His gaze returned and raked over her.
“I would not be so bold, sir, to abuse my Lord’s honor in that way.” She clipped out as politely as she might. “Nor my own,” she added, “with such flagrant disobedience.”
He arched a brow and brushed a long red lock of hair from his brow, then smiled again. The motion drew her eyes to the long, curved horns sweeping back from his forehead, like a rams. “And what of hidden disobedience?” He challenged with a smirk.
She lifted her chin in response. “They say, my Lord, that honor is a public currency. Private fault is just that: private-kept between the concerned parties. And it must remain so… or else it is not what it is. Don’t you think?” She silently dared him to answer that, refusing to quail under his direct gaze.
It wasn’t he who answered, however. Penelope laughed lightly, taking her by the arm again. “Dear Calliope, such a heavy thought for so light a thing!”
The tension broke somewhat as the Host turned a curious gaze on Penelope instead. “What thing do you speak of?”
“Why, honor, of course!” She smiled brightly between the two of them.
He chuckled. “I’ve heard it called many things, but not light.”
She too chuckled, then rolled her eyes at Calliope. “Don’t look so stern.” She chided, before turning her bright smile back on the Host. “It is indeed light, my Lord. As light as air. For what is honor but a word, and what are words but a hot breeze between the lips.”