Yesterday Azak had escorted Inos; today he had gone off on his own. He had reluctantly agreed to wear impish costume while in Ullacarn, for otherwise he would be conspicuous and might find himself harassed by the soldiers. As always, he had gone full measure. He had shaved off his beard and had his hair cut to impish shortness; it was coppery and lighter than his beard. In hose and breeches and ruffles, he was a sight to catch every female eye in town. Suddenly the idea of Azak in Kinvale or even Krasnegar was not quite so hard to imagine—but that was another problem altogether.
The chaise lurched extra hard and skidded and swung sideways. Inos muttered a prayer and clung tighter. Then she heard yells of triumph close by and opened her eyes just as the hussars went thundering past. Ambly Square was right ahead.
“You lost!” she said.
Skarash dared not turn to look at her yet, but he grinned. His face was bright scarlet and shiny with perspiration, his hair flew loose, and his plumed hat had vanished completely. He was obviously very pleased with himself. ”Of course I lost! You think I’m crazy enough to win?” He was still hauling on the reins to slow the horse.
Two minutes later he brought Inos safely, if not soundly, back to the couturier’s door. He began passing gold to the hussars, along with his congratulations. He was still being a trader, still giving what was wanted.
The couturier’s establishment was a grand house on a grand square. Djinn servants came hurrying to lead the horse to the mews, and Skarash again flashed coin as he demanded that the hussars’ mounts be taken, also, to be walked and rubbed down. Then he gave Inos his hand to help her descend, followed by his arm to mount the wide stairs to the door. He was puffing and still excited from the race. He could have won had he wished, so losing was a double victory for him.
Inos fought for concentration through the thumping surf in her head. “Master Skarash?” she murmured as big white doors swung open before them.
“Yes, my beloved?” he replied softly.
Inos ignored that. “I have relatives in Hub. My aunt knows many people there. I was wondering if we might write letters to forewarn them of our arrival?”
They stepped together into a hallway richly furnished, although possibly at secondhand, for the rugs and draperies seemed mismatched. Inos started toward the room where she had left Kade, but the footman was leading the way across to the stairs, so Kade must have moved.
“Letters?” Skarash mused. “There would be no point at the moment, would there? No ship is due to sail before Dawn Pearl, so you would merely be paying to send mail on the same vessel as yourself. When we reach Qoble, of course, then the case may be different. You may not wish to travel at the posts’ pace then.”
“You will be accompanying us?” For a moment that surprise even cut through the headache.
Skarash smiled innocently. “Only as far as Angot, to deliver some messages for Grandsire.”
So Elkarath was not going! Yet how could he risk sending his prisoners off unaccompanied? Winds were fitful. Even if Dawn Pearl had no preliminary landfalls scheduled before Qoble, the Gods might arrange one. Rasha would not dare withdraw all occult restraint—what did that hint about Skarash?
Then Inos was being ushered into a room where Kade was preening before a pier glass. She spun around and beamed. “Ah! Did you have a pleasant journey, my dear? Do sit down and advise me. These pearls are such a problem.”
Inos set her face in a rictus of smile and sank onto a chintzcovered chair. The draperies were rich purple velvet, the rugs soft and thick, in a discordant mauve. The furniture was an odd assemblage.
Kade, of course, was exultant at the thought of journeying to Hub. All her life she had wanted to visit the capital. She had almost attained her ambition twice, and each time something had come up to prevent her leaving Kinvale.
Kade, in a sense, was being as deceitful as Skarash. Having played the role of desert nomad for months, enduring hardship and discomfort without complaint, she had now reverted to being a brainless Kinvale lady, totally engrossed in gowns and frippery. Well, if she enjoyed the procedure, she had certainly earned it, even if it was only a comfortable sham.
“What do you think of this string?” she inquired. “Or this one?”
The impish assistants fussed and exclaimed around her, delighted to have a customer with such exquisite taste and such impressive wealth. Of course pearls were plentiful in Ullacarn, on the shores of the Sea of Sorrows. Despite her worries and her pounding temples, Inos was impressed by the glowing heaps being displayed.
“Why not take both, your Highness?” Skarash suggested. “And the stomacher, also?”
“You really think so?” Kade said, seeming tempted. “And what about earrings and brooches? Look at these, Inos!”
Inos murmured appreciation and offered opinions, and then reluctantly moved to a chair before a mirror so that she also might try on clasps and brooches encrusted with fine pearls. Skarash encouraged and applauded, flaunting wealth and pressing the noble ladies to buy whatever they fancied. The clerks murmured and enthused.
Inos’s head continued to throb, but even while she babbled about settings and matches and sizes, her mind went on wrestling with the main problem, rejecting this whole charade as being unbelievable. There just was no reason why Rasha should be sending her prisoners off to Hub. The promised voyage to Qoble must be a feint to keep them happy while something else was planned.
But what could three penniless, friendless fugitives do in an unknown city? They could not pay their fares on a ship, they could not bribe guards, or sailors. They seemed to have no option except to play along with the pretense until such time as Elkarath revealed the sorceress’s true plans.
“And you should see the lacework!” Kade exclaimed. “Do you remember those lace cuffs—no, they were before your time, my dear. I had a pair of lace cuffs that moved from gown to gown for ten years at least, until they were dishrags. Lace was so expensive in Kinford! And here they have lace like I have never seen. Collars and cuffs—”
“The best lace comes from Guwush,” said Skarash, the trader in him emerging briefly. He began describing how the gnomes harvested silk from forest spiders, and then went into technicalities of quality and grading.
Half an hour or so later, Inos could rise thankfully to her feet, prepared to leave. The sun was near to setting, and the thought of lying down on her lumpy little bed in the House of Elkarath was heavenly. Kade had shamelessly frittered away a fortune, but seemed content at last—dear Kade! She had earned it. The assistants were hastily wrapping all those riches, and Skarash was counting out gold as carelessly as if it were millet.
Kade caught Inos’s eye briefly.
Inos blinked and looked again, but the odd expression had vanished and her aunt had turned to ask about alterations to the turquoise tea gown.
By then Inos understood. Right under her eyes, Kade had solved one of the problems. The fugitives might not have gold, but they now had an enormous supply of valuable earrings and brooches and pins. For bribery, at least, those might do as well.
Three in a one-horse chaise were cramped, and although Skarash did not indulge in any more chariot races, he seemed to have picked up an inexplicable sense of urgency. The streets were crowded with homebound workers, and he fretted impatiently, muttering under his breath.
Inos considered him out of the comer of a bleary, pain-filled eye. Jumpy or not, he had been flirting all afternoon, at every chance. Dare she attempt to seduce Elkarath’s grandson from his loyalty? Would she ever trust anything this devious young man promised? If he were indeed the Chosen One, he would be crazy to risk losing his chance of inheriting such powers just for a mild flirtation, for Inos had no intention of going any further than that. If he was indeed going to be her guardian on the ship, then he might already have been granted occult powers, and thus he might already know what she was thinking—and a flirtation would get out of hand very quickly. She decided not to pursue the matter . . . pursue Skarash. The way her head was thumping, she was not capable of producing even one winsome smile, anyway.
At last the rattling vehicle turned into a narrow alley and came bouncing to a halt outside the merchant’s house. Skarash growled something inaudible. There were too many legionaries milling around there, too many horses, too many citizens excited about something.
Suddenly apprehensive, Inos followed him down and ran ahead, awkward in her city shoes, not waiting for Kade. Then she heard a familiar voice and stopped abruptly.