native of Sanctuary …”
Lalo hid his paint-stained hands behind his back as they all looked at him,
curious as if he had been in Meyne’s Menagerie. It must be only too obvious that
he lived in the city-the battered buildings through which the painted King was
fleeing belonged to the Maze.
Exuding attar of roses and geniality, Lord Raximander turned to Lalo.
“You have great talent, but why do you stay here? You are like a pearl on the
neck of a whore!”
Lalo stared at him, then realized that the man was not mocking him-neither the
Prince nor the Vizier had ever ventured west of the Processional, and the Maze
had not been included on the Commissioners’ sight-seeing tour. He stifled a
grin, thinking of these popinjays at the mercy of some of his old friends from
the Vulgar Unicorn-like alley-cats with some Lady’s pet love-bird, they would
be.
The other Commissioners were looking at the painting now-the General, the
Archpriest Arbalest, Zanderei the Provisioner and an undistinguished relative of
the Emperor. Lalo listened to them commenting on its naive charm and primitive
vigor and sighed.
“Indeed-” came a soft voice close to his ear. “What recognition can you expect
in this city of thieves? In Ranke they would know how to appreciate you. …”
Lalo jumped, hearing his own thoughts vocalized, and saw a slight man with
clipped greying hair and a skin weathered brown, draped in dove-grey silk.
Zanderei… after a moment his memory supplied the name, and for a moment he
imagined he recognized amused understanding in the Commissioner’s eyes. Then