“You pick an odd way of presenting yourself.”
“We are on an odd errand.”
The other leaf of the lattice swung open. “Stay inside, Lady Tanar!” the man commanded.
Ah, said Des. At least we seem to be in the right place. Good.
Disregarding this, the woman emerged. Slender, a little shorter than Nikys, also hung about with rich fabrics, loosed in the cooling late-summer night. She evaded the man’s half-hearted attempt to strongarm her back within, instead tripping to the balcony rail and peering over into the shadows. “Nikys?”
“Tanar?”
“I thought you were in Orbas!”
“We were. We got your note to Adelis. And traveled as quickly as we could. Can you come and let me in before your dogs drown me in drool? We probably should not be seen before we can talk.”
“Oh, dear. Stay there, I’ll be right down.”
Lady Tanar darted back inside. The white-haired man made a futile noise of protest, half jerking in her wake, but then turned back to guard his prisoner, the unknown threat. He’d recognized Nikys’s voice, apparently. Pen tried to feel reassured by that.
“Can I get up now?” he asked humbly.
The man thought about this for a moment. “Slowly.”
Pen complied, entering the sitting chamber at his gesture. One pale hand made the knife disappear inside his robe, and the man rolled his shoulders, allowing his murderous air to dissipate.
He’s carrying four blades concealed, Des reported. And every one is poisoned. She considered. Drugged, anyway. They are not all the same.
In the better light from the mirrored wall sconces, Pen could see the man’s irises were a thin carmine; likely they showed pink when the pupil contracted in daylight. His pinched eyebrows, too, were white. His face was fine-boned and regular, if tense. An old scar puckered the left side of his mouth, giving an impression of a permanent smirk, belied just now by the downturned right. His snowy braided queue, tied off with colored silk, reached halfway to his waist.
My word, said Des. That one’s almost as pretty as you, Pen.
Pen ignored this. But he bid a glum goodbye to his prior mental image of the pudgy, timid eunuch secretary, swapping it out for this overdressed white snake of an assassin standing taut before him. “Master Bosha, I presume?”
A short nod. “And who are you?”
“My name is Penric. I’ve taken the duties of Madame Khatai’s courier for this journey.”
“Do you know what this journey is in aid of?”
“Yes.”
The carmine eyes narrowed. “I see.” He reached into his robe—Pen tensed—but the manicured hand emerged holding only a fine cotton handkerchief. Ironed and scented. He handed it blandly across to Pen. “Don’t drip on the carpet.”
“Ah. Thank you.” Pen mopped at his upper lip, wet with blood. His price for the shamanic compulsion on the dogs, but let Bosha assume it was from the violent encounter with the door; maybe he’d feel guilty. Likely it was the result of both. The cloth grew saturated before the trickle stopped, at about the same time the door onto the courtyard gallery opened and Lady Tanar slid through, followed by Nikys.
Nikys pressed her hand to her breast and sighed out relief as Tanar closed the door and locked it, as though they had reached a safe refuge after their arduous journey. Pen was not so confident.
Urgently, Tanar turned to Nikys. “How is Adelis? Where is Adelis? We heard he was blinded in Patos, and then we heard he’d turned up somehow in Orbas, and none of it made sense.”
Nikys took a breath as if to answer this, but then looked imploringly at Penric.
He managed, “The seething vinegar was inadequately applied, and thanks to his sister’s good nursing, he recovered his sight. As soon as that was apparent, he fled to Orbas to save the emperor’s agents from coming back and trying again.” The official story. That Penric had rebuilt the young general’s half-boiled eyes with the most delicate and difficult week of uphill medical magics he had ever brought off was not something he wished to confide. Here or anywhere.
Nikys’s mouth compressed in silent disagreement with this reticence, but she yielded to his tacit wishes. “Duke Jurgo employed Adelis at once, and has sent him off to command his expedition against the Rusylli incursion in Grabyat. Adelis having defeated the Rusylli once before, to no imperial thanks. I can only hope Jurgo will do him better. He could hardly do him worse.”
Bosha’s lopsided lip seemed to twist in a real smirk, contemplating the gratitude of princes. He stood back with his arms folded, his attention never straying far from Penric.
“Adelis was weeks gone by the time your note came to my hand,” Nikys went on. “In exchange for not distracting him with the news, the duke supported Penric’s and my journey to try to get our mother out of Cedonia, and then to Orbas with me. Somehow.” She looked back and forth between Tanar and Bosha. “I don’t know how much aid you can give without danger to yourselves, but whatever help you can spare, I beg it of you now.”
“Of course!” cried Tanar, notably not seconded by Bosha. “You poor dear. All the way from Orbas, so swiftly? Here, you must be exhausted, come, sit. You should drink something.” She looked more doubtfully at Penric. “You too, ah, Master Penric.” A vague courtesy title, flattering if he were a mere servant. Pen didn’t think she took him for a mere servant. But he followed Nikys to the small round table with chairs placed to the side of the room, suitable for two people to take a light repast. Bosha, without comment, set two more chairs around it, brought a carafe of sweet red wine and a pitcher of drinking water from a sideboard, and served out glass goblets of the mixture all around.
That’s not poisoned, is it, Des? Pen asked in worry.
Not so far, she returned darkly. I’ll stand sentinel.
Tanar touched her lips, and asked in a lower tone, “Was he terribly burned?”
Pen watched Nikys struggle not to answer with the truth, Hideously. “It was not good. He was in dreadful pain for a while. But the scars are healing mostly flat, and confined to the upper half of his face, and the redness is supposed to fade in time. Except for his eyes; they didn’t come back brown. They are a kind of garnet color now. It unnerves people, but he says that’s fine, given his profession.”
Tanar’s own gaze flicked to Bosha and away. “That’s all right. I’ve always thought red was a lovely color for eyes.”
Bosha spread his hand on his heart and offered her an ironic seated bow, which she dismissed with an amused quirk of her lips.
“And if he has already taken up a new command, he must have made an excellent recovery.” She smiled in relief, sitting more upright.
“I thought it miraculous, myself,” said Nikys, steadfastly.
No remark, Pen? murmured Des, preening a trifle.
Hush.
Nikys turned more intently to Tanar. “What more have you found out about my mother? Does she know what happened to Adelis and me? Is she still on Limnos? Has anything worse chanced?”
“And how did you find out about her?” Pen put in.
Tanar glanced at Bosha much the way Nikys had lately glanced at Pen, seeking some permission. So, the two shared their secrets?
Bosha, after a contemplative sip of watered wine, chose to answer Pen: “My elder sister is an acolyte of the Daughter’s Order on Limnos. I visit her now and then. She was thus aware of Lady Tanar’s interest in General Arisaydia, so when Madame Gardiki was brought in, she sent me a private note.”
“I didn’t think men were allowed to enter the Order’s precincts,” said Pen, confused.