Hyperion turned towards her and, as if the previous conversation hadn’t happened, offered her his arm. The woman took it cautiously, trying to ascertain what he was thinking; it proved to be a daunting task, as nothing escaped his pleasant, temperate mask.

They began to walk through the hall; leaving behind the meeting space, they ventured into the complex, navigating the maze of hallways and rooms with servants running around them and Eon walking respectfully behind.

“I’m infinitely amused at your circumstances,” Hyperion broke the silence after a while. “Yesterday, I believed that you were the wife of a strange Phrygian who was desperate enough to let his wife come to a brothel. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, they’re quite prideful. Today, I see that he’s not strange at all; he’s like any other of his race, blessed with simplicity of mind. So it begs the question since a man like that would not be so lenient with his wife, are you his wife at all?”

Ophelia was surprised at his perceptiveness; it filled her with dread.

“Why does it matter?”

“I’m trying to understand why you would lie for him, in front of the Magistrate. Are you, perhaps, in love with him?”

“Again, why does it matter?”

Hyperion stopped. The smile on his face was one of slight irritation.

“You are more devious than what you appear at first, lady.”

“Ophelia,” she said. “My name is Ophelia.”

He took her hand and kissed the back of it in a gallant gesture.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ophelia.”

They walked through the estate; Hyperion showed her the sights. He had amassed an extensive collection of statues; most of them dedicated to heroes and politicians she’d never heard of. She asked some questions, incapable of containing her curiosity, but was careful not to seem too ignorant. He also seemed to be an avid horticulturist; he took great pride in the flowers and trees he’d collected from his travels and had planted around his property.

Finally they arrived at what Hyperion called ‘the great chamber’. He explained to Ophelia that he held his evening meals there; when he had guests over, he entertained them there. The room’s walls and ceilings were covered in oak panelling; above them, the wood had been carved into reliefs of interconnected five pointed stars. They formed an intricate, elaborate grid that recalled, briefly, the night sky. The floor was tiled in dark green marble; the whole ensemble made her think she was standing in an open field at night, somewhere back in England. It was sombre, yet strangely comforting.

The chamber was set up like the dining rooms she was used to; a single long table running along the length of the hall. As it only had one window, on the north wall at the end of it, the place was naturally very gloomy. The lighting was provided mostly by the enormous chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, and which looked more like iron flowers, with each hollow petal holding an oil lamp made of glass.

The table had already been set; decorated even with flowers. “We will dine with the rest of my retinue,” Hyperion explained. “They should come in shortly. For now, let’s take a seat.”

“As I said before, trade is something that requires knowledge of multiple languages; I try, as much as I can, to speak some myself, but my talent in that area is limited. That’s why I’m always in search of mediators; it’s often the case that in one language a price is always below the price said in another language.”

Ophelia felt like she was in a job interview; strangely, she didn’t dislike the offer.

“What would this entail? Simply translating during a business deal?”

“Yes; very much like Eon, your presence would be more than welcome in my wanderings.”

“You travel quite a lot, don’t you?” Hyperion nodded. Ophelia wouldn’t have minded a bit of wandering about, except that in that time and age it wasn’t done through the convenience of a plane, but rather excruciatingly long sea and land journeys. The merchant sensed her hesitance.

“Name your price; I can pay it,” he said. “I can tell you are not particularly tied to your companions; if so, come with me. You’ll be paid handsomely.”

Ophelia was about to reply when the door on their left opened, and Hyperion’s retinue entered. Eight men led the group; they gave their greetings before taking their place on the right side of the table.

“These are my assistants; they keep a tally of my transactions, manage my letters for me. They oversee certains aspects of my businesses.”

Next, ten women made their way into the room. Unlike the men, they were dressed lavishly; they all wore gold necklaces, earrings, head pieces and arm bands. The ones who sat closest to Hyperion and Ophelia, on the left, were also wearing body chains made of the precious metal, delicately shaping the sheer cotton dresses they wore. They were all exuberant women; the flimsy clothing did little to hide the shape of their breasts. If the lighting had been better, Ophelia knew she would’ve been able to make out very intimate details about them.

“These are my concubines; I have yet to find a spouse.”

“Is it really needed?” Ophelia couldn’t help but ask, not being able to tear her eyes from the dazzling image of all the women adorned so beautifully.

“A concubine warms the bed; a spouse warms the heart,” Hyperion replied with a smile. “As you can see, they are my pride. Nadja over there sings like a nightingale; Lyre is very skilled with the harp and in poetry. Oriana and Ruby write very beautiful calligraphy, Hadwina decorates with her images. They’re all very accomplished entertainers; I rather prefer them to the ones the brothels offer. Yet I’d rather make use of them than to offer mine. I feel slightly jealous when other men enjoy what’s mine.”

“Fret not; if you like any of them, I can lend them to you,” he offered.

“That’s fine…” Ophelia answered, tearing her gaze away. “If I agree to work with you, I’ll want normal payment. Gold, silver, whatever you use. I don’t need anything else. But I want one condition: take my two friends to Arqa.”

Hyperion laughed, but something in his eyes told her that he’d expected her words. “Very well, seems like we’re in agreement then. Let’s toast to it!”