“You’re just in time, my love!” the courtesan greeted him, smiling at Seregil in the mirror. Lifting two ornately woven jeweled necklaces from a casket on the dressing table, she turned and held them up for him to judge. “Pearls or the peridots?”
Seregil struck a thoughtful pose. “Pearls, I think. They look so cool and inviting against your skin.”
“Pearls it is.” She handed the necklace to Seregil and lifted her black ringlets from her neck.
Seregil dutifully fastened the heavy strands and brushed his fingertips playfully down her nape. “Hmmm, yes. Most inviting.”
She turned and kissed him on the cheek. “Such a tease. I do miss you, you know. You were always one of my favorites.” She noticed the black armband he wore as she reached for one of the pearl hairpins on the dressing table. Her coquettish smile faded. “I still can’t believe she’s gone.”
“Nor I.”
Eirual shook her head as if repelling sadness and began decorating her elaborately braided hair with pearl hairpins. “And where is the fair Alec? Still downstairs?”
“No, he’s not well tonight. I’ll be escorting both you lovelies myself, and will be the envy of all who see me.”
“You always are, I suspect.”
Myrhichia hurried in with a white silk girdle embroidered with pearls. “I thought you might want this,” she said, draping it around the older woman’s shapely hips. “What do you think, Seregil?”
“Perfect! The pair of you are a vision of loveliness not to be outdone by all the titled heads of Rhiminee.” Indeed Myrhichia looked as beautiful as her benefactress in midnight-blue silk stitched with crystal beads, and matching hairpins glittering in her dark hair. “You look like the night sky in Bokthersa, full of stars and mystery,” he told her, kissing her cheek.
“But where is Alec?”
“Indisposed, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, and I was so looking forward to teasing him a bit!”
When the women had completed their adornments to their mutual satisfaction, the three of them strolled arm-in-arm to the Red Hart, glittering among the evening crowd and drawing admiring glances from many they passed. At the elegant tavern the master of the house escorted them to the private room Seregil had reserved for the evening.
Laneus, Malthus, and their ladies soon joined them, and introductions were made all around. Malthus and Ania knew the two courtesans, and greeted them warmly, as did Laneus and his young wife. Eona seemed particularly thrilled to meet the famous Eirual.
They dined on poached butterfly fish, jellied eel, raw oysters, warm sesame bread, dishes of olives and pickled vegetables, and a rare Mycenian white wine of excellent prewar vintage.
The courtesans were charming as always, and Seregil could see Eirual’s tutelage in Myrhichia’s sparkling conversation, and her knowledge of current events and politics. She
and Laneus had a spirited debate over the tax on gemstones, and ended the argument with laughter.
Seregil watched the two men with veiled interest; both gave every indication of being delighted to dine with him, and their ladies expressed great concern over Alec’s supposed fever. His wound was remarked upon and Laneus’s shock at the story of how Seregil and Alec had been waylaid by assassins seemed quite genuine, but perhaps not as violent as Malthus’s, who went white to the lips and stole a glance at Laneus as Seregil elaborated.
“By the Light, he might have taken your head off!” Duchess Ania exclaimed.
“If the bluecoats hadn’t come along and chased them off, he probably would have!” Seregil told her. “Of course, all I could think of was Alec, but he was much better at fighting his man off, though he cut his hand quite badly.”
“You didn’t tell me that! I hope that’s not the source of his fever,” Myrhichia exclaimed, fanning herself in agitation. “Blood poisoning is a serious ailment. I lost an uncle to it, and he’d only pricked his finger on a rusty arrowhead.”
“Brother Valerius saw to it personally,” Seregil assured her. “It’s just a summer fever. He’s been out in the heat too much.”
“Playing with Princess Elani,” Malthus noted with a smile, having recovered. “Or so I hear.”
“By all reports, you two have suddenly been spending a lot of time at court,” said Ania. “It was Duke Reltheus who introduced you, wasn’t it?”
“Actually it was by way of Count Selin,” Seregil replied, popping an olive into his mouth. “He got us admitted to Archduchess Alaya’s salon, and we met the princess royal there. He also introduced us to Duke Reltheus. Quite the gambler, the duke.”
“As are you,” Laneus said. His expression was bland, but Seregil was certain he caught just a hint of double meaning.
After the cakes and sweet wine, Ania and Eona unexpectedly rose to go.
“We’re off to the Swan,” Eona told them, extending her
hands to Eirual and Myrhichia. “Won’t you come gamble with us, ladies, and we’ll leave the men to their boring talk?”
“Go on,” Seregil said with a laugh. “Who am I to stand in the way of a woman’s pleasure?”
“I can vouch for that,” Eirual laughed, taking Eona’s hand.
Seregil felt strangely outnumbered when the women were gone, though he hardly expected the two men to attack him. They sipped their wine and made small talk about horses and tailors for some time, then Laneus struck.
“Malthus tells me that you have some concerns regarding the princess royal’s safety,” he told Seregil. “He was left with the impression that you believe there may be some dark movement against her.”
“I merely passed on rumors that I had heard among the royal set, purely out of concern for Malthus’s safety.” He turned to Malthus. “I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear. I wasn’t accusing anyone of anything.”
“I’m pleased to hear that,” Laneus answered for the other man. “It wouldn’t do for such rumors to go any farther.” He paused a moment. “May I ask where you stand on the succession, Seregil, now that you’ve come to know the heir?”
“The princess royal is a remarkable young woman, but so young!” Seregil exclaimed, selecting another olive from the common dish.
“Young for what?” asked Malthus, rising to the bait as hoped.
Seregil shrugged. “Well, if-Sakor forbid-our queen should fall in battle as her mother did before her, then don’t you think Elani is, well-” He paused as if unsure of his audience. “What I mean to say is, the war seems to be far from over and she’s untried in battle. Perhaps if Phoria had taken her into the field, as Idrilain did with her, it would be a different matter, but to put the weight of Skala’s future on such slim shoulders…” He looked around as if he’d said too much and nibbled the olive. Laneus was doing a fine job of watching his face without being obvious about it. “Not that I’m speaking against the succession!”
“You’re right to be careful, my lord,” Laneus warned.
“Especially as your friendship with Princess Klia is so well known.”
Seregil pretended to be momentarily baffled. “But what-” He gave Laneus a wide-eyed look of surprise. “What are you saying, Laneus? That I-? Illior’s Light, no! You know I never involve myself in politics. My friendship with either of the princesses is strictly on a personal level. I’m immensely fond of both of them.”
“But if it came to a choice between the two?”
Seregil made a sign against bad luck. “Pray the Four it never comes to such a pass, my lords! It’s unthinkable.”
“Really? You wouldn’t back either?” asked Malthus.
“If it came to that, then it would be civil war, and I’m sure I’d take to my heels in that event,” Seregil said with a delicate shudder, adding quickly, “But I would fear for both their lives.”
“I can’t decide if you’re a sly fellow, or just a coward,” Laneus remarked.
“I’ve been called worse in my time,” Seregil replied, a little surprised at the abrupt turn of the conversation.