He sighed. ‘So I am learning.’
There was more, of course, but he decided not to mention Styliane Daleina or a hidden blade in the steam. He looked around the room, saw the bird again. Linon’s voice-the same patrician accent all the alchemist’s birds had-but a character entirely other. Not a surprise. He knew, now, what these birds were, or once had been. He was quite certain this woman didn’t. He had no idea what to do.
Shirin said,’ And so, before someone appears to attack you in my house for some good reason or other, what message did a loving father have for his daughter?’
Crispin shook his head. ‘None, I fear. He gave me your name in case I should need assistance.’
She tried to hide it, but he saw the disappointment. Children, absent parents. Inward burdens carried in the world. ‘Did he say anything about me, at least?’
She’s a prostitute, Crispin remembered the alchemist murmuring with a straight face, before amending that description slightly. He cleared his throat again. ‘He said you were a dancer. He didn’t have any details, actually.’
She reddened angrily. ‘Of course he has details. He knows I’m First of the Greens. I wrote him that when they named me. He never replied.’ She tossed her head. ‘Of course he has so many children scattered all over. From his travels. I suppose we all write letters and he just answers the favoured ones.’
Crispin shook his head. ‘He did say his children didn’t write to him. I couldn’t tell if he was serious.’
‘He never replies,’ Shirin snapped. ‘Two letters and one bird, that is all I have ever had from my father.’ She picked up her own wine cup. ‘I suppose he sent birds to all of us.’
Crispin suddenly remembered something. ‘I don’t. . . believe so.’
‘Oh? And how would you know?’ Anger in her voice.
‘He told me he’d only ever given away one of his birds.’
She grew still. ‘He said that?’
Crispin nodded.
‘But why? I mean . . .?’
He had a guess, actually. He said, ‘Are any of your . . . siblings here in the City?’
She shook her head. ‘Not any I know of
‘That might be why. He did say he’d always planned to journey to Sarantium and never had. That it was a disappointment. Perhaps your being here . . .?’
Shirin looked over at her bird, then back to Crispin. Something seemed to occur to her. She said, with an indifferent shrug, ‘Well, why sending a mechanical toy would be so important to him, I have no idea.’
Crispin looked away. She was dissembling, but she had to do that. So was he, for that matter. He was going to need time, he thought, to sort this through as well. Every encounter he had in this city seemed to be raising challenges of one sort or another. He sternly reminded himself that he was here to work. On a dome. A transcendent dome high above all the world, a gift to him from the Emperor and the god. He was not going to let himself become trammelled in the intrigues of this city.
He rose on that thought, resolutely. He’d intended to go to the Sanctuary this afternoon. This visit was to have been a minor interlude, a dutiful call. ‘I ought not to outstay your welcome to an uninvited stranger.’
She stood up quickly, her first awkward motion. It made her seem younger.
He approached, became aware of her perfume again. And had to ask, against his own better judgement. ‘I … was given to understand earlier that only the Empress Alixana was allowed that particular .. . scent. Is it indiscreet to ask … ?’
Shirin smiled suddenly, visibly pleased. ‘You noticed? She saw me dance in the spring. Sent a private message with a note and a flask. It was made public that, in appreciation of my dancing, the Empress had permitted me to use the scent that was otherwise hers alone. Even though she’s known to favour the Blues.’
Crispin looked down at her. A small, quick, dark-eyed woman, quite young. ‘A great honour.’ He hesitated. ‘It suits you as much as it does her.’