She couldn't stand to stay on the Jaspers, couldn't endure the pity and the awkward glances. So she'd left, going to a distant cousin's house deep in the Blood Forest. She'd borne the child and given it up immediately, not even hugging it, asking not even to know its gender, and learning only through her hosts' indiscretion that it was a boy. The family adopting Gavin's get lived nearby, and Karris couldn't bear to stay, so she'd gone back to the Chromeria. She'd lost the baby weight in short order, and her young skin barely even showed any stretch marks. It was like nothing had happened, except for the memories clinging to her like hellstone eating her soul.
Fitting that my new dress is black then, huh? A little piece of midnight, like what's inside me.
Thought you left the melodrama behind, Karris.
Go bend over a fence.
I think that's what the king is hoping for.
That'll be a treat for both of us. Hope he enjoys blood.
So, what? I'm supposed to be thankful that I'm flowing now? Not much chance-
A cramp wracked her in midthought. Karris hunched. Not much thankfulness here.
While she was hunched over, a slip of paper was pushed under the door. Karris picked it up. It was no bigger than her finger.
"Orders: assas. KG. Dark. Can't help." There was an old Dayric rune at the bottom. It was the agreed symbol to show it was from the agent Karris had been sent to meet. Not well drawn, but correct.
It wasn't much of a code, but they'd never figured Karris would need a code. She was supposed to have met the agent in person. He was to identify himself by idly tracing part of the rune on any surface: a table, dirt, whatever. Karris's orders were to assassinate King Garadul. Secretly. And her contact wouldn't be able to help her.
Perfect. Karris couldn't even burn the note, and though small, it was grimy. She popped it into her mouth with a grimace and swallowed it.
Her contact wouldn't be able to help her. Damn it, Karris, you've been thinking so much about the past, you haven't thought about the present. In one moment, Corvan had understood that someone must want Karris dead. Of all the White's agents, Karris had to be the worst person to send here. Either the White wanted Karris dead, or…
There was no other possibility. Or she hoped I'd be kidnapped and maybe raped? Ludicrous.
She knew she frustrated the White at times, but she'd thought the stubborn old woman liked her. Then again, the White always played a deep game. Maybe she thought she could use Karris's death to accomplish something else.
Karris felt sick to her stomach. It was possible. She wouldn't have thought it before, but she'd sworn to give her life for the White if necessary. Maybe the White had decided it was necessary.
There was a knock at her door. It was the same routine as before, lots of drafters, lots of guards. This time, however, several women bearing tins of powders and glosses came in. With the efficiency of professionals, they made up Karris, fixed her hair, and applied perfume. But they didn't apply any powder to her eyes or lashes.
And soon enough, Karris found out why as one of the slaves took out violet eye caps. Blind them, they'd thought of everything.
"If you tear these off, you'll certainly rip your skin," one of the slave women said. "And possibly tear off your entire eyelid. If you leave them alone, the king may give you greater freedom, and it won't hurt your eyes. In a few days, they will loosen and come off by themselves."
"At which point you'll reglue them," Karris said.
"Yes."
"What if I get something in my eye?" It would be impossible to get it out.
"Try not to."
They tried the fit over her eye sockets. The caps weren't a perfect fit. The slave woman, eastern Atashian from her features, scowled. "To make the caps fit, we're going to have to use extra glue. Extra glue means if you blink, your eyelashes will get stuck. King Garadul wants you for your beauty, so I don't want to cut off your eyelashes if I can help it. But once we set the caps on your face, they'll be there for days. You really don't want your eyelashes globbed with glue-or stuck in it. So, do you want to be blind, irritated, or lashless?"
"Lashless, and to hell with Rask," Karris said.
The slave pursed her lips. "You're right. The king might be annoyed. We'll have to take our chances. Blink right now as much as you can, because you're going to have to not blink for as long as possible." With great care and globs of glue, they put the eye caps on. The glue globs took care of the gaps left in the fit.
Karris barely dared breathe, holding as still as possible, forcing herself not to blink. When she finally broke down and had to blink, her lashes caught for a moment in the drying glue, but pulled free.
"Oh, and try not to cry," the slave said. "Or you'll be up to your eyeballs in tears. Literally." She smiled unpleasantly.
Hilarious.
They put more makeup around her eyes after the glue was fully dried.
Then, bracketed by drafters and Mirrormen, Karris was whisked through camp. The sun had set perhaps an hour before, and Karris welcomed the fresh, dry air. Over the smell of her own perfume, she was finally able to smell horses, men, campfires, butchered raw meat, cooking meat, sagebrush, oil. Oil? She looked around and saw a supply wagon nearby. Oh, oiled swords and gunmetal.
With the number of wagons surrounding her own, Karris couldn't see enough of the army to get a good idea of how many men were marching on Garriston. Even the number of wagons didn't help her. She didn't know how heavily or lightly packed they were, and even if she did, the last time she'd traveled with an army, she hadn't paid any attention to such things. Young, pampered, terrified, and stupid, it hadn't occurred to her that such simple things might be useful to her someday.
There were a large number of women diffused throughout the army, carrying fresh-cut wood for the fires, standing on the butcher's wagon, shouting at men to make sure the skinned wild javelinas were dispersed fairly, tending the minor injuries inevitable in moving thousands, taking in weapons and armor that needed repair for the blacksmiths, rejecting those that they deemed reparable by the men trying to get someone else to do it. Most of the women seemed to be in service roles, however, which either meant that King Garadul didn't think much of women or that most were new recruits. From the wide variety of their dress, Karris guessed they came from all over the social spectrum. That meant they were newer recruits, and willing ones. These people weren't all servants he'd brought from Kelfing; they were locals. King Garadul had significant support from the Tyrean people.
From the glimpses out into the growing darkness punctuated by fires scattered randomly as stars, it seemed the army sprawled wherever it willed, but Karris was brought quickly to an area where perhaps fifty wagons were circled, leaving only a few avenues between them at the points of the compass where horses would be able to pass, each guarded by ten Mirrormen with matchlocks. In the middle there was an open space for defense, small falconets pointed out everywhere like a porcupine ready to fire its quills, and then a number of large striped pavilions of every color.
A cramp caught Karris as she was ushered to the central pavilion. She hunched, breath taken away. She squeezed her eyes tight shut, and the luxin caps cut into her brows and cheeks painfully. She smoothed her expression and waited until the fury of the cramp passed. She took a slow breath, mastering the pain. Then she gestured to one of her guards, as if she were a queen and ready to enter now, thank you.
The man pulled back the pavilion's flap, and Karris entered.
It must have been some dress. Because as soon as Karris stepped inside, conversation ceased.