“Came . . . escort . . . Majesty . . .” he gasped, chest heaving.
Inos was practically at her destination and quite obviously in no real need of an escort, but she nodded graciously. “That was very kind of you. You need to rest for a minute?”
He shook his head, and she would not have been suprised to see drops of perspiration fly off him like rain. In some way this earnest young guard reminded her very much of the banished Petkish, with his well-meaning offers of protection; and he did need to catch his breath.
“Tell me something,” she said, not moving. “What do the rings on your hat mean?”
He raised coppery eyebrows in surprise. “Mean? These? Nothing, your Majesty. They’re a weapon.” He raised a hand and hooked the top ring off his cap to show her. The outside edge was honed like a razor. “It’s called a chakram, Majesty. I throw them. Off a finger.” He raised a free finger and twiddled it around to illustrate.
“Deadly?”
He nodded, grinning, and drew the finger across his throat. Inos shivered. ”Thank you.”
He replaced the ring, and the two of them started to walk. Get them alone—that was the secret! Kar had talked when he was alone with her. They didn’t like to be seen talking with a mere woman. She smiled over her shoulder, and the coppery eyebrows jumped nervously.
She did a little dance step that put her at his side instead of in front. ”Tell me something, then. Why are you guards known as `family men’?”
He had recovered most of his breath, so he was able to puff himself up proudly, even if for only a moment. “Because we have sworn our loyalty on the heads of our sons!”
Which was what she had been told before. Allowing for the beard, he looked about seventeen. With a sudden glint of devilry in his eye, he added, ”Three, so far, your Majesty.”
Inos hoped she did not blush. She was almost at her quarters. She might get one more question in before they came within sight of the sentries and her informant became tongue-tied again. “And how does one become a family man?”
The question puzzled him, and he frowned for several paces before he worked out what she wanted to know. “Royal birth, ma’am.”
“A prince?”
He went redder still. “Not always. I wasn’t quite. Palace born, but too distant. Great-grandnephew of the Sultan of Shuggaran, your Majesty.”
So that was what happened to all the excess princes—palaces exported swordsmen.
“Thank you,” Inos said sweetly once again and let him drop back a pace as they rounded the corner and the apartment doors and its guards came in sight. Ex-prince Petkish, she assumed, might well be practicing chakram-throwing in Shuggaran right now. That would teach him to propose marriage to an Imperial SPY.
Just a few minutes’ friendly chat with an anonymous guard has been enough to put Inos in a much better temper. By the time she had stormed up a long staircase and thrown down her hat and veil and gloves and cloak and slammed a couple of doors, her fury was back again. And she knew why, too! She was going to have to confess to Kade that she had failed utterly. In two weeks of bone-grinding effort, she had obtained not even two minutes’ private talk with the sultan. Perhaps such a discussion would have done her no good anyway-that was not the point! The point was that she was feeling like a complete fool. It was not a totally unfamiliar sensation, but it was not a common one, either, and it was certainly not welcome.
Wondering where everyone was, she threw open another door, heading for Kade’s favorite balcony. And there everyone was. The little salon seemed to be crammed with all the residents of the habitation, from wizened old crones down to dampish ‘babies. Everyone turned toward the door and fell into an excited, expectant hush when they saw who had just entered—back early, of course. Kade was there, in the middle of the excitement, and Zana was overseeing everyone with her wrinkles wrapped in a grandmotherly smile.
Swiftly women and youngsters cleared out of the way, so Inos could see the strikingly beautiful woman quietly blushing in the center of it all. For a moment Inos just gaped, causing a couple of small girls to start giggling. It was Vinisha.
But her gown was an Imperial-style ballgown. Thralia was putting the final touches to her high and elaborate coiffure, and Vinisha’s hair was revealed as a stunning auburn. She had not yet put on any jewelry. Perhaps she had none. But the gown! Enormous masses of shining samite were gathered around her, cascading out from a very low waist, and above the waist . . . remarkably little, just a low-cut bodice. Very low-cut! Vinisha had a striking figure; there was no doubt about that. It had been months since Inos had seen a décolletage anywhere near that daring, and then the dowager duchess had ordered its wearer from the hall. For a moment Inos thought of strolling into a gathering of Arakkaranian princes in that outfit, and her mind reeled.
The gown was a miracle. It set off a djinnish complexion perfectly, but it was also the exact same shade of green as Inos’s eyes, and the gold thread in the samite would match her hair, near enough. Vinisha was the same size as Inos—near enough. The bodice was too tight on her . . . but certainly near enough. The tragedy of a figure like that buried in a sack all day!
Uneasily aware that she was filthy and dusty and stinking of horse, Inos tore her eyes from the gown and looked at Kade, who beamed opaquely.
“Where did you get that wonder?”
“You like it, my dear? Sultana Rasha showed us some functions in progress in the Imperial palace. She adjusted the color of the material for us. Then Mistress Thralia, and Mistress Kasha, and . . .”
Of course the design would have to be from Hub, or at least one of the major cities of the Impire. A provincial backwater like Kinvale would be shocked speechless by that neckline, and the fabric alone would buy a coach and four.
Inos gave her aunt a hard stare. Kade fell silent.
“Vinisha, you look absolutely enchanting!” Inos said, earning a stammering blush. “Now, Aunt, let’s you and me go and have a little chat?”
Kade nodded in innocent surprise. “If you wish, dear.”
3
The town was shadowed now, the sun just setting. Inos leaned on the cool marble balustrade and stared down at distant sails on the enamel blue of the bay. She felt uncomfortably aware of her own grubby stickiness as Kade came to stand beside her, ignoring the comfy divan she normally favored on this balcony.
“Zana found me an Imperial breviary today!” she said brightly.
Inos muttered congratulations. Kade liked to offer a prayer each night before retiring, but her illuminated pocket prayerbook had remained behind in Krasnegar. Its loss had wounded her deeply, because it had been a gift from her mother and one of her most treasured possessions. Worse, she had discovered that the prayers in Zark were different—and therefore wrong, of course. Kade was old enough to believe that the Gods had the same traditions that she did and would prefer to be invoked in old familiar words. Inos suspected that They might enjoy a little variety after so long. Kade must know most of the prayers by heart, anyway.
To business! “Pray explain that gown,” Inos said. “If I appear in the palace in that, then nothing will remain for me in Zark except a career in belly dancing. Or have you already arranged for my first lessons?”
“Gracious! Certainly not, dear.” Kade looked shocked and sounded slow-witted. Kade, therefore, was choosing to be inscrutable, and that meant being a good deal less scrutable than a cupful of tea leaves. “Her Majesty planned it all, of course. She has asked that you call on her this evening, and she wants you suitably dressed.”
“Suitably for what?”
“Suitably for a queen, I suppose.” Kade peered up blankly. Inos felt baffled. Zarkian hunting she thought she now comprehended, but she had not yet got around to learning all the niceties of social life; if there were any, which she doubted. But her ignorance was her own fault. She had seen little of her aunt lately, probably because she had not wished to confess to lack of progress in her pursuit of the sultan. Most evenings she been so exhausted by a day of persecuting wildlife that she had just tumbled into bed as soon as possible.
The royal guests had been granted a standing invitation to Azak’s daily state dinners, but after the first experience had shown what was involved, Inos had pettily declined, protesting that she was not a devotee of belly dancing. Kade, however, had been attending regularly, and must thereby have befriended many of the senior palace ladies in their spectators’ gallery.