Two hours later, the serving girls came walking out of the king's chamber. Judging by the torn clothing, hickies, and bite-marks, Haidar had not been gentle in his lovemaking. Afterwards, he reclined in the pool, quaffing fermented goat's milk from a horn. He was not drunk, but he was certainly riding a pleasant buzz. Still, it was getting late. The big man hungered. He downed the rest of the alcohol, then climbed out of the pool, drying himself with one of the many soft towels piled next to it and putting his clothes back on. His hair and beard were still damp as he slipped out into the hallway.<br/><br/>"P'Tulla," he said, speaking as a master to his servant, "see to it that I am brought some food, then come and speak with me. I will be bored again soon." He did not feel like continuing his conversation with Olivia; he wished to talk of battle, warfare, and good killing. Maybe he could talk his First Sword into a sparring match in the courtyard.