A thin, middle-aged man came out of a back room. “I am, Edame-nai. How may I help you?”
“You can’t help me, not unless you know what’s planned for this evening.” He shook his head, and Edame sighed. “I thought not. Well, then, I’ll leave my sister Miryo here, as she’s the one who really wanted to see you. I’m off to find someone who does know.” Then she was gone, leaving Miryo alone with the artist, who did his best to erase a long-suffering expression when he realized she was looking at him. “I’m sorry, Katsu. I forget my manners. Please do be seated. How may I be of service to you?”
“I’m told you do portraits,” Miryo said as she took a chair.
Ryll nodded. “Do you wish me to paint one of you?”
“Yes and no. I don’t need a painting, and in fact I won’t be staying here long enough for you to finish one. If you could do just a quick sketch of my face, though, I would be deeply indebted to you.”
The artist pursed his lips and studied her face. “In charcoal?” Miryo nodded. “This is possible. You are certain, though, that you do not want something more elaborate? I could arrange to have it shipped to you; even with just a sketch to work from I’m sure I could do a lovely portrait. You have such vivid coloring.”
Ryll was evidently one of those men who did not find witches too intimidating to court. Miryo wondered if he had cast any looks at Edame. And how such looks had been received. “A sketch will be sufficient, thank you.”
He bowed with good grace. “As you wish, Katsu. Would you like to begin now?”
“If you’re free.”
“I am always free to serve one of your sisterhood. If you haven’t eaten yet, I can have servants bring food up while you sit for the sketch.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Then come this way,” Ryll said, gesturing her toward the back room. She glimpsed an easel and a half-painted canvas through the doorway. “We will get started right away.”
In the end Ryll made several sketches for her, each at a different angle. He was more talented than Edame had given him credit for; the sketches, hastily done, were nevertheless quite recognizable, and the paintings in his back room were elegant. Miryo thanked him, and tried her best to get him to accept a small fee, which he refused with many bows and a few more attempts at flirting.
She took the sheets back to her room and debated venturing out to try and find Edame. She needed to know what would be happening tonight, after all. But the thought of navigating the keep’s halls left her feeling drained. In the end the choice was taken out of her hands, because she fell asleep.
Nine days of travel had tired her out more than she had thought, and her sitting room was sunny and pleasant. Miryo sat down in a comfortable chair to consider her search, and woke up several hours later. The room had grown dim in the late-afternoon light, and no one else was there. Miryo stretched, wondering where the Cousins were, and went to bathe again. She knew her presence would be expected at supper tonight, and it would be better not to show up with an imprint of the chair’s upholstery on her cheek.
Clean once more—she wondered if everyone here bathed several times a day in the summer, to alleviate the heat—she shook out the one nice dress she owned and looked at it ruefully. It was hardly the sort of thing she had hoped to wear for her first presentation to domain rulers. But there wasn’t anything to be done; she had nothing finer. And it was too late now to ask Edame for another gown, even had she been able to overcome her pride.
A loud knock at the door made her jump, and then the witch herself swept in, holding an armful of fabric. “I was hoping I’d find you here,” Edame said briskly. “Here, this ought to fit you—you’re a slight thing, aren’t you?”
Miryo took the proffered silk and shook it out. The dress was embroidered with silver thread, and quite a bit finer than the one she had just dropped on the floor.
“Good color for you,” Edame said, smoothing out the dark gray silk. “Sets off your hair wonderfully. It will look much better on you than it does on the mousy brown creature who owns it. I’ll convince her to give it to you as a gift.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Miryo said hastily.
“Nonsense. You’re a witch; you deserve to own at least one pretty thing, and depending on what Ray you choose you may never have the coin to buy it. Put the dress on. I’ve found out what Iseman has arranged for this evening.”
“What is it?” Miryo asked as she stepped behind the painted dressing screen.
“Just you wait,” Edame replied mysteriously. “Does the dress fit?”
Miryo emerged a moment later, tugging the sleeves straight. “It’s a bit loose, but that’s fine.”
“Turn around.” Edame fiddled with the intricate lacing of the back, which Miryo had not known what to do with. Hairan court clothing—even something as simple as this—was much more complex than she was used to. The fabric of the dress rose and fell and rearranged itself into a much more flattering shape. “Wonderful. You’re a credit to Starfall. Now come quickly; we don’t have much time before they sound the call to supper.” Edame whisked her out the door and back through the maze of the keep’s halls. After just a few moments they came to a gallery overlooking a hall, and Miryo heard a low murmur of voices.
The Fire Hand gestured for her to come look. Approaching the rail, Miryo looked down at the men and women in the room below and caught her breath. “Temple Dancers.”
12
Dance [Miryo]
“Not just any company, either,” Edame said, looking smug. “These are the Dancers from the Sunset Temple in Eriot.”
“Haira has its own company, yes?”
“Of course we do. We have the second largest population of Avannans in the land, second only to Eriot itself. You should hear Iseman go on about how Temple Dance is the purest expression of adoration of the Goddess. But this company is truly incredible. I saw them once, in Eriot, several years ago.”
Miryo looked over the railing at the Dancers below. Uniform with their sleek, black-dyed hair and lithe bodies, they milled about below, stretching and preparing for their performance tonight. She’d learned about them, as she’d learned about everything else: somewhere between clergy and laypeople, Temple Dancers were a key element in the Avannan sect’s religious practices. They were also disturbingly flexible, she saw as one of them began to stretch. She didn’t think her own body would do that without serious magical aid.
“You’ve probably never seen a Temple Dance before,” Edame said.
“No,” Miryo replied, still watching them. “Avannan worship isn’t that strong in Insebrar, and they tend to not perform for witches anyway. And of course they never come to Starfall.”
“I’m almost tempted to keep you away tonight,” Edame said with a smile. “This company is so good, they’ll spoil you for anyone else.”
“Do you know what they’ll be performing?”
Edame glanced around, then leaned toward Miryo with a conspiratorial air. “The Aspects.”
That broke Miryo’s attention away from the Dancers in the room below. “Are you serious? I thought they only did that on Holy Days!”
“That, and when somebody with a lot of money requests it. Especially if that somebody is as devoutly Avannan as Lord Iseman is.”
Miryo looked back down, trying not to feel awed. The Aspects of the Goddess were neither a rote Dance performed the same way by every company, nor a local tradition not found elsewhere. Every company had its own version, and every version was different. “Eriot’s company was the first one to perform the Aspects, yes?”
Edame leaned against the rail and nodded. “Long, long ago. Their version is legendary. Avannans talk about it as if the Goddess herself comes down and Dances with them. The Aspects are one of the holiest Dances there is, and they do it better than anyone.”