derision, but she left the parlour without looking back.
The problems with Jubal and the smugglers were only just beginning. Myrtis
pondered them after Ambutta removed the tray and glass from the room. Jubal’s
ruthless ambition was potentially more dangerous than any threat radiating
directly from the Hell Hounds. But they were completely distinct from the
matters at hand, so Myrtis put them out of her mind.
The second evening was not as lucrative as the first, nor the third day as
frantic as the second. Lythande’s aphrodisiac potion appeared in the hands of a
dazed street urchin. The geas the magician had placed on the young beggar
dissipated as soon as the vial left his hands. He had glanced around him in
confusion and disappeared at a run before the day-steward could hand him a
copper coin for his inconvenience.
Myrtis poured the vial into a small bottle of qualis which she then placed
between two glasses on the silver tray. The decor of the parlour had been
changed subtly during the day.-The red
liqueur replaced the black-bound ledger which had been banished to the night
steward’s cubicle in the lower rooms. The draperies around her bed were tied
back, and a padded silk coverlet was creased to show the plump pillows. Musky
incense crept into the room from burners hidden in the corners. Beside her bed,
a large box containing the three hundred gold pieces sat on a table.
Myrtis hadn’t put on any of her jewellery. It would only have detracted from the
ebony low-cut, side-slit gown she wore. The image was perfect. No one but Zaibar