“Councilor Sabatyon D’Factorius and Madame D’Sabatyon!”
“Commander Artois D’Patrol and Madame D’Artois!”
That surprised me, because Commander Artois hadn’t been at the previous Ball, or if he had, I’d missed his name, which was possible since I’d had no idea then that I’d become the Collegium liaison to the Civic Patrol.
“Councilor Ramon D’Artisan and Madame D’Ramon.”
Once more, it didn’t take long before I began to lose track of all the names, although I did remember and recognize more than at the previous Ball, but I doubted that I had any real idea of all who were present. I kept waiting for a particular set of names. Finally, they came.
“Ryel D’Alte and Madame D’Ryel.”
“Alynat D’Ryel-Alte and Mistress Iryela D’Ryel-Alte . . .”
Alynat? That had to be Ryel’s nephew. Where was Dulyk?
I watched as the Ryels made their way into the hall and over to the three councilors.
Madame D’Ryel could indeed have been the sister or cousin of Factor Veblynt’s wife, although Madame D’Ryel was slightly more angular than Madame D’Veblynt, it seemed to me. Also, compared to her mother, Iryela seemed more petite, and her hair was more white-blond. Iryela wore a gown of shimmering black and silver-the High Holder’s colors-which did not suit her as well as the blue and silver I recalled from the last time we had met. Her scarf was of the same glittering silver, however, trimmed in black. It could have been the same scarf, for all I knew.
Alynat was more muscular than either Johanyr or Dulyk, and rounder of face, but his mien carried with it the same sense of smallness and pettiness, although he was close to my height.
As Iryela and Alynat stepped away from Councilor Caartyl, the last of the three on the High Council, her eyes crossed mine-and held them, if but for an instant-before she let them pass as if nothing had occurred. The two moved toward the smaller group of younger people on the east side of the hall, coincidentally just a few yards from the sideboards that held various vintages, with uniformed servers already providing goblets to those who wished them.
“Shendael D’Alte and Madame D’Shendael.”
I watched as Juniae D’Shendael smiled graciously at each of the High Councilors, her short-cut mahogany hair not even moving as she nodded to each.
“The Honorable Dharios Harnen, Envoy of the Abierto Isles, and Mistress Dhenica Harnen.”
I paused, remembering that Harnen had brought his daughter to the previous Ball, and I wondered if he happened to be a widower.
From the temporary dais at the south end of the hall, the sounds of the orchestra drifted across the scattered groups of people.
“Go ahead and dance, if you like,” said Master Dichartyn. “I intend to.” His voice caught me off guard, because I’d been concentrating on those entering the great hall. “I suppose I should.”
He offered a faint smile as he moved away.
I edged along the side of the dance floor, then, surprisingly, I saw a familiar-or semifamiliar figure, not that I would have recognized her except for her height. While Alynkya D’Ramsael-Alte stood beside another couple, she was clearly alone. I also noted the totally black scarf. Her mother had been ill at the time of the last Ball, and the scarf suggested that Alynkya was in mourning, but fulfilling the public social role of her mother for her father, the High Holder and councilor from Kephria.
“Mistress Alynkya, might I have the honor of a dance?”
Her eyes widened slightly, and then she smiled, taking in the silver imager’s pin. “You might.” Her smile held a certain relief, but curiosity.
As we joined the other dancers, she said, “You know, you never told me your name, Master Rhennthyl.” While I felt my dancing had improved, so had hers. She was no longer a charmingly awkward girl, and that saddened me, because I suspected she’d had to grow up a great deal in a season.
“You seem to have discovered it well enough, mistress.”
“Alynkya, please. Father discovered it for me. I had thought you were an imager, but he did not mention that you had become a master imager.”
“Occasionally, that occurs.” I laughed lightly, guiding her around Envoy Harnen and his daughter.
“You are young to be a master, aren’t you?”
“I’m one of the younger masters.”
“You’re one of the better ones, then.”
She hadn’t made her words a question. So I asked, “Are you staying long in L’Excelsis?”
“Yes, I’m studying at the Universite. Since Father maintains the house here . . .” She let her words drift.
“A house? Or a chateau or an estate?”
“A small mansion. Very small, as they go, not far from the Plaza D’Nord. We’re Bovarian by descent.”
“He must be one of the few High Holders who can claim that.” It also suggested that High Holder Ramsael was one of those with more modest lands. Modest, comparatively, at least.
She smiled shyly. “I’m glad you asked me to dance.”
“How could I resist?”
“You’re teasing me.” Her face held the slightest trace of a pout.
“I’m not.”
“Oh?”
I would have shrugged had we not been dancing. Instead, I shook my head. “I asked you to dance at the last Ball because you looked unhappy, but you danced so well. Tonight, you looked so much more self-possessed that I couldn’t resist asking you. And you dance even more gracefully.”
She inclined her head at the compliment, trying to hide a blush.
I did not speak for a time, just enjoying the dance.
When the music stopped I touched the edge of her scarf. “You had mentioned . . .”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry. It has to have been difficult for you.”
“Coming from anyone else, that would be a pleasantry. From you, I accept it in the way it was meant.” Her eyes brightened for a moment.
“You’re the oldest, I assume?”
“The only daughter, too.”
When her father cut in on us, after another dance, he did not smile patronizingly, as he had at the previous Ball, but merely politely. I supposed that meant I had risen in his estimation.
I decided that it was time to begin what was necessary, and I eased around the edge of the dancers to where Iryela had been. She was not there. I studied the dancers, watching until she passed, in the arms of a slender man with short-cut blond hair and the bearing of a High Holder, most likely some holder’s son. The young man was clearly attentive, and at times actually seemed to lose his hauteur. After the dance ended, he returned Iryela to a position beside Alynat, who seemed indifferent to her reappearance.
After waiting for a moment, until the music resumed and Iryela had looked away from the others momentarily, I stepped forward and around Alynat, who in attitude could have been the twin of the missing Dulyk, with the same studied arrogance and supercilious smile, contemptuously ignoring the others at the Ball, except for the other young man with whom he was conversing.
“Who . . . ?” murmured Alynat, the single word conveying the sense of a sneer.
“Mistress Iryela, might I have the pleasure of a dance?” I asked, inclining my head in greeting.
Iryela turned and smiled, as if she had been expecting me all along, which I was certain she had. “Master Rhennthyl . . . that would be most pleasant.”
“Imagers . . . no breeding . . .” Alynat’s murmur was just low enough that he could have denied making it.
As well as I could, I swept Iryela out into the dancers. “You are striking this evening, wearing the family colors, but I must confess that I preferred the blue and silver.”
“You are gallant, as always, Rhennthyl. Did you say something equally charming to Mistress Alynkya?”
“I noted she was in mourning and only asked her to dance.”
“So kindhearted of you.”
“I can be, as can anyone when not threatened or concerned. I noted you enjoying the company of a young man on the previous dance. He seemed rather interested in you.”