I smiled, pleased to be back on safer territory. Courtesans were an established fact of Tilean life but such things were looked on much less fondly in the Empire. Perhaps they had a sufficient supply of pretty young noblewomen and could make do without, or perhaps they just lived as rumor reported, in smoky castles where porcine housefraus stomped about dolled up in silk.


“Luckily I am a past master at making men think they can dance,” I teased. Standing up and allowing Kian to lead me a few steps out into the piazza. Music was already playing, as was the custom in Remas of an evening. A trio of musicians, one on lute, one with a fiddle and a third providing harp and occasional percussion were already filling the square with music, repaid for their efforts by a free meal and the occasional tossed coin. On this occasion they were all men, though it wasn’t uncommon for women to play either, I had done so myself on occasion when I had needed coin in a hurry. I reminded myself to check my still packed bags and make sure my flute was still in place and hadn’t been sold by servants for a few gold pieces.


As Kian and I stood the band smoothly altered their atmospheric harmony into something slightly more spritely, it was a rondel, though the form was common from sea side tavern to noble villa with varying degrees of energy and lasciviousness. I made a slight curtsey and then we began to dance. It was a simple thing, repeating curves and reverses of direction accented by spins which lifted the hem of my skirt in a whirl. I wasn’t sure if Kian was downplaying his skill or if he was simply a very quick learner, but though he made a few missteps in the first few minutes, he rarely repeated a mistake and within no time was dancing as well as anyone born to the city might have managed. It was possible my own performance was more Trantioan than would have been the fashion here, but there was no one here to gain say me. I curved gracefully in to Kian, allowing him to arrest the dips and leans with a hand on my back  or a touch of my waist. Within minute other couples, diners and passers by began to join and the band moved into a spritely waltz which featured quick kicks that stretched the calves.


“What are you laughing at,” Kian asked as we whirled and curvetted together to the sound of the minstrels.


“I’m just trying to decide if you are the best Priest I have met, or the very worst,” I snickered.