Choices | Page 7

mindful of the fact that there was a curfew in effect for Tradurian woman following the setting of the sun. This lasted until sunrise, at which point the women of Tradur exchanged the prison of their home for the prison of a society that saw them as little more than property.
As we moved through the oppressive heat of the tropical night, I was ever mindful of Burrye's fears. It would be easy for me to disappear in a situation like this. Or worse, perhaps, to be caught by the curatai doing what I shouldn't have been doing in the first place.
My fears were quelled somewhat when we reached what my guide claimed was our destination. I recognized it immediately as the Temple of Sentai, which, according to my research earlier in the day, was the known residence of Kieara Cjhar. I was ushered in through a narrow doorway that was far from the main entrance of the temple. My guide remained outside. Once within, I found myself alone, standing in my dark cape in the center of a small antechamber. I drew back my hood and looked around, but there was little to see. The room was poorly lit by a single glowtube. There were no markings on the walls, and no openings, save the door through which I'd come and another opposite it.
I waited.
Just when I had begun to think I'd been played the fool, a woman appeared at the other door. She beckoned in silence, gesturing me forth, deeper into the temple. Sentai was restricted to women. More particularly, to those women who had devoted their lives to the Church. They were known as the cjhavari, the daughters of the god-revered. No Tradurian male--including the prelate himself--was permitted within the walls of the temple. To violate this sanction was to risk certain censure from the Church--the least of which was excommunication, though punishments as severe as death weren't unheard of.
There was nothing impressive about the interior of the temple. It lacked the ornateness that was to be found in the palace of the cardinali and the cathedral of the prelate, or in any of the many churches that dominated much of the skyline of Jehku and the other cities of Tradur. Indeed, its simple appointments were a rather refreshing contrast to a faith that seemed mired in the cynicism of gaudy gold and jewel encrusted trappings.
We walked down several passageways, all of which were dimly lit by scattered glowtubes. There were doors set here and there in the thick walls, all of them closed, most of them no doubt concealing the spartan cells in which I imagined the occupants of the Sentai lived. At length the young acolyte who had been leading me through this labyrinth halted before one of these doors. She turned to me and bowed, lifted a hand indicatively towards the door, and then backed away, finally retreating down the corridor and leaving me to stand there bewildered.
After a moment or two I did the instinctual thing and knocked.
"Come in, Ambassador Morrisohn. The door is not locked."
I pushed, and the door, made of heavy wood and bound with iron, swung inwards on well-oiled hinges, opening to reveal a room quite like what I'd expected to find. It was spare, with a narrow cot in one corner, a desk placed before a window, and a tall clothes cupboard on the wall opposite the bed. There were a couple of chairs, one for the desk and one clearly for a guest--the latter looking somewhat out of place and no doubt there solely for my benefit.
Kieara Cjhar sat by the desk. She wore a simple white linen shift, quite unlike the stunning gown she'd worn to the embassy reception. Oddly enough, she seemed more fetching in this coarse garment, the simplicity of its design and material a marked understatement that permitted her natural beauty to radiate unblemished. She wore no jewellery, and her dark, lustrous hair was bound in a single braid that hung down her back and reached to her waist.
She smiled warmly, invitingly, and gestured towards the other chair.
I sat, easing myself into the seat, eyeing my host somewhat warily. For a moment we merely sat staring at one another. Or perhaps it was I who just stared at her, for I couldn't get over how beautiful she was. Beautiful, because her features weren't the stony, unrealistic perfection of the bioscultor. There were flaws and imperfections, which only seemed to make the face all that much more attractive. It had a character that so many sculpted ones like my own didn't.
The first thing she said was: "Foreigners are forbidden within the walls of the Sentai." And then she laughed, clearly amused by the way my face seemed to lose all color.
"Do not fret, Captain Morrisohn," Kieara