The evening meal was a leisurely and sociable affair, but eventually it wrapped up. I offered to help with cleaning up, but was told gently but firmly that we were guests and they would consider that poor hospitality; I suspected that we might also be a disruption to regular routines and habits.

So, having bid good night to new friends, Sylvael and I strolled back to our own apartment. Syl was very quiet, but that wasn’t unusual, so I let her be.

Once inside, with the door closed, she sank down in a soft chair, expression troubled.

“I don’t like this, Keva. These are really good people. They look after each other and the animals are all properly spoiled. They know everyone’s different but to them that’s a good thing, not a bad one. Erala said there are other people here who aren’t good at social situations and who have trouble with exactly the right amount of sensory input, and no one thinks it’s bad, they just treat it as something else that they need to be happy. She said that being so aware of everything all the time is sort of respected, even, because it gives their goddess a way to experience even small things very vividly.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Although it was sadly rare. I heaved a sigh and dropped onto a couch near her. It was ridiculously comfortable, but not very comforting emotionally right now. “They just seem to accept everyone, even if the rest of the world would call them broken or useless, and everyone has their own useful and satisfying role. I was really hoping that there was something bad under a shell of goodness, but I haven’t found anything yet.”

“I’d be really happy here if we found it by accident, but knowing that we’re here to steal something from them just makes me feel sort of sick. And it’s a cat statue, in a sanctuary of a cat goddess, so it probably isn’t something trivial or incidental. It’s probably something important.”

“If we found it by accident, we wouldn’t have been able to get in. Only women, remember?”

Sylvael started, eyes wide, then laughed. “Um, actually, I forgot.”

“That the Gate only allows women through?”

“No, that I wouldn’t have been able to get through it.”

That seemed like a rather substantial thing to forget, but I tried not to make assumptions about Syl based on other people.

Still...

“We haven’t actually talked about that. I’m trying not to put any pressure on you, or make you feel self-conscious, but I’m having to guess how you’re feeling about being a girl.”

She blinked, looked down at herself, then back up to me and shrugged. “Idunno. I don’t feel all that much about it, I guess. I just feel like me. I had to get used to the different centre of balance and all, but that didn’t take very long, really. Am I supposed to be feeling something?”

“Of course not, love, you feel however you feel. But I can’t look inside your head or your heart and I need you to tell me what’s going on in there.”

“Not very much. Supper was good, I’m glad Jem and Rav are enjoying themselves, I like this place and the people in it, I’m feeling terrible about lying and planning to steal something from them... um, this skirt is really comfortable and I like it?”

Actually, I’d forgotten that there was anything noteworthy about her skirt, or at least about her wearing one. Had it become that natural that fast?

She shrugged. “That’s about all I’m thinking or feeling right now.” She moved over to join me on the couch and snuggled against me; I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know you’re worried about me. You have been ever since we got out of bed yesterday morning. Wow, it feels like longer. Not very much actually changed. There isn’t anything you need to worry about. Not about me.”

“I always worry about you. It’s part of my job.”

“My job,” she pointed out, “goes past just reading old wall carvings to keep you from stepping somewhere that a wall will fall on you or something. I can’t read other people but I know you, and you’re not happy.”

“This whole situation has been a mess, right from the moment that wizard stopped by our table. Wizards are always, always bad news and we need to remember to just walk away from them immediately, no matter what.”

“Would that have worked?”

“Worth a try.”

“Okay. We’ll try that with the next wizard. You say go, and we’re gone.” She wriggled free and got to her feet. “I’m not tired, but you haven’t seen that bed upstairs yet. It’s amazing! And...” She gave me a mischievous grin. “It might be best to check it out before being too tired.”

“Oh, yes?” I figured, with the balcony on each face, the upper floor must be about half the depth of the lower floor, although of course the width would be the same. How amazing could the bed be? I followed her up the stairs.

Sylvael, giggling, sprawled on her back across the bed. “See?”

“Okay,” I conceded. “That is impressive.”

It was big, three could sleep in it comfortably, I was sure. It also had wooden posts at each corner, supporting a canopy above, and dark blue curtains were tied back out of the way. However, there were metal rings spaced along the posts, and there was another on the headboard, just above that thick-looking bedding.

I toyed with one of the rings. It was bronze, and felt like it was extremely sturdy and solidly-anchored.

I scanned the rest of the room. There was a full-height wardrobe against the side wall that held the stairs, with an armoire near it, a wooden chest between them. The head of the bed was centred against the other side wall. Obviously, the exterior walls had windows and doors to the balconies.

Hanging from one corner of the bed, over the canopy and outside the curtain, was a coil of soft-looking pale rope. Who had left that there? It might have uses, though, what with all these rings.

For the moment, I stalked Sylvael, who had rolled onto one side to watch me explore. She just laughed when I straddled her, wrestled her onto her back, and pinned her wrists to the bed over her head.

“You’re right about not wanting to be too tired,” I said. “This bed looks fun.” I wondered how she’d feel about a kiss.

Well, only one way to find out.

Enthusiastic, as it turned out.

I let go of her wrists so I could use one hand to support myself and, cautiously, use the other to untie her belt. Far from hesitating, she helped, and arched against me so she could pull it out from under herself. That meant I could slide my hand up under that blousy top. I took my time, exploring the smoother skin, the hint of softness over her belly, the gentle curve at her waist, and I watched her the whole time for the faintest trace of uncertainty or reluctance.

Sylvael just closed her eyes, smiling, and wriggled around under my hand, enjoying the touch the same way she always did.

So I wandered upwards, tracing the bottom of her ribs, then the crease under her breasts. She was more slender than I was, but hers were actually just a little bigger, I thought. Then again, my body had little fat on it, the consequences of being as active as I was. I slid my hand up along the side of one, and got only a wordless hum of pleasure.

“Syl? You’re okay?”

“Why would I not be?” She sounded honestly perplexed.

“New anatomy, sweetheart.”

“Still me. Still you. So what?” Her forehead furrowed. “Unless you don’t like it that I’m a girl. You don’t have to... do anything...” For the first time, she faltered. “There’s specific stuff we can’t do, but we can still do the rest, right?”

I kissed her again. “Since when do I not want to do anything with you, hm? And yes, anything is okay. Just you, just me, nothing else matters.” Playfully, I cupped my hand under one breast, and tickled the nipple with my fingertip; she squealed and giggled.

Slow warmups worked better with Syl, and that was fine by me right now. I took my time, stroking everything I could reach with one hand. Since processing sensation and action at the same time can be tough for her, I didn’t find it at all surprising that she went rather passive—it didn’t mean she wasn’t enjoying it thoroughly. She wriggled, making little happy sounds.

My support arm was getting tired, so I switched, let myself drop to her other side, and ran my now-free hand up her leg, first over the skirt, then I slipped under its folds to explore the soft skin of her thigh. I hadn’t really considered before how convenient skirts were for this sort of thing. Trousers would have gotten in the way; the skirt blocked my view, but not my touch.

Sylvael shifted towards my hand and moved her legs farther apart, exposing more territory for me to explore. I kept my hand lower than that, for the moment.

“Feel good?” I asked her.

About all I got was a dreamy wordless affirmative noise. I smiled, and kept exploring.

If we were here for a few days, I was sure Syl would get into the right mood for us to do something fun with this bed and the handy ropes before we left. Being restrained was complicated for Syl, but much less so for me, and we’ve trusted each other in so many perilous situations that it’s comfortable and natural in safer ones. We both quite enjoyed being creative.

Right now, Syl getting to experience her current form was quite creative enough. Anything else could wait.

“How do you feel about getting out of your clothes?” I murmured in her ear.

She opened her eyes enough to look at me. “Only if you do, too.”

“Oh, yes, definitely. Let’s get rid of all the clothes. Then I can see what I’m doing. Just make sure you tell me if anything feels wrong.”

“Just like always,” she agreed. “You too.”

By the time we fell asleep, worn out, neither of us had found anything that felt wrong and needed to be reported.

But we did have a black cat with a white streak on its forehead reclining on the chest. Why did so many critters find it entertaining to watch us?