She hesitated, scratched her temple. “Well, you’ll think of something.” Gestus folded his arms, too, and grinned. Clearly, she’d caught their interests. “Just make sure you don’t attract notice.” She flipped a finger against their studded belts. “Wear something less identifiable.”
Dismas unfolded his arms, so Gestus did, too. “The name of our fox?” he said conspiratorially.
“No fox,” she cautioned. “A deadly mountain cat. Mind you, don’t cross him. Just keep an eye on him and inform me of his movements.” She beckoned them closer, and they bent to hear. She made a show of glancing in all directions, then put a finger to her lips. “Now here’s the fun part. Before sundown I want one of you back here with half a brick of krrf.”
That raised eyebrows.
As she’d predicted, the day turned scorching, too hot for her usual fighting leathers. Yet she’d wanted to make sure she attracted attention, so she’d donned trousers and blouse of shining black, loose-fitting silk and spit-polished boots that rose almost to her knee, not quite high enough to conceal the hilts of the daggers stuck in each one. Over one shoulder she wore a leather strap to which a number of Bandaran throwing stars were attached; a simple twist easily freed them from their stud mountings. On her right hip she wore one more weapon -a gladius whose golden tang was fashioned to resemble the wings of a bird. Lastly, because she’d seen Zip do it, she’d tied a sweatband of clean white linen above her eyes.
Every gaze turned her way as she strode brazenly across Caravan Square on her way to Downwind. She smiled and winked at the gawkers, sometimes lightly brushing the hilt of her sword. Only a few had balls enough to smile back; most glanced quickly in some other direction and passed on.