“I sleep next door,” she said jerking a thumb in the direction of an open door in the side wall. “I’ve been there ever since you dismissed me last night,” she explained.
The explanation left Kennon cold. The old cliche about doing as the Santosians do flicked through his mind. Well, perhaps he would in time—but not yet. The habits of a lifetime couldn’t be overturned overnight. “Now you have awakened me,” he said, “perhaps you’ll get out of here.”
“Why?”
“I want to get dressed.”
“I’ll help you.”
“You will not! I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been dressing myself for years. I’m not used to people helping me.”
“My—what a strange world you must come from. Haven’t you ever had a Lani before?”
“No.”
“You poor man.” Her voice was curiously pitying. “No one to make you feel like the gods. No one to serve you. No one to even scrub your back.”
“That’s enough,” Kennon said. “I can scrub my own back.”