Most older courtiers love to talk, have seen everything and nobody will listen to them. So -- ' Kethry shrugged, then glided over to the bed, slipping out of the amber robe and draping it over another chair that stood next to it. Fire and candle light glinted from her hair and softened the hard muscles other body. ' -- I use a little kindness, risk being bored, and maybe learn a lot.'
'I guess I'll stick to the original plan then; work the horses, play that I don't understand the local tongue, and keep my ears open,' Tarma wasn't sure anymore that this was such a good plan, certainly not as certain as she had been when they first rode in. This place seemed full of invisible pitfalls.
'One other thing; there's more than a handful of mages around here, and I don't dare use my powers much. If I do, they'll know me for what I am. Some of them felt pretty strong, and none of them were in mage-robes.'
'Is that a good sign, or a bad?'
'I don't know.' Kethry unpinned her hair and shook it loose, then slipped on a wisp of shift -- supplied by their host -- and climbed into her bed. The mattress sighed under her weight, as she settled under the blankets in the middle: then she sat up, gazing forlornly at her partner. She looked like a child in the enormous expanse of featherbed -- and she looked uncomfortable and unhappy as well.
Tarma knew that lost expression. This place was far too like the luxurious abode of Wethes Gold-marchant, the man to whom Kethry's brother had sold her when she was barely nubile.
Kethry plainly didn't want to be left alone in here. They also didn't dare share the bed without arousing very unwelcome gossip. But there was a third solution.
'I don't trust our host any farther than I could toss Ironheart,' she said, standing up abruptly, and shoving the chair away with a grating across the stone floor. 'And I'm bloody damned barbarian enough that nothing I do is going to surprise people, provided it's weird and warlike.'
With that, she stalked into her bedroom, stripped the velvet coverlet, featherbed and downy blankets from the bedstead, and wrestled the lot into Kethry's room, cursing under her breath the whole time.
'Tarma! What -- '
'I''m bedding down in here; at the foot of your bed so the servants don't gossip. They've been watching me bodyguard you all day, so this isn't going to be out of character.'
She stripped to the skin, glad enough to be out of those over-fine garments, and pulled on a worn-out pair of breeches and another of those flimsy shifts, tossing her clothes on the chair next to Kethry's.
'But you don't have to make yourself miserable!' Kethry protested feebly, her gratitude for Tarma's company overpowering her misgivings.
'Great good gods, this is a damn sight better than the tent.' Tarma laughed, and laid her weapons, dagger and sword, both unsheathed, on the floor next to the mattress. 'Besides, when the servants come in to wake us up, I'll rise with steel in hand.
That ought to give 'em something to talk about and distract them from who we were associating with last night. And -- '
'And?'
'Well, I don't entirely trust Raschar's good sense if his lust's involved; for all we know, he's got hidden passages in the walls that would let him in here when I'm not around. Hmm?'
'A good point' Kethry conceded with such relief that it was obvious to Tarma that she had been thinking something along the same lines. 'Are you sure you'll be all right?'
Tarma tried her improvised bed, and found it better than she'd expected. 'Best doss I've had in my life,' she replied, wriggling luxuriously into the soft blankets, and grinning. 'You'd better find out what happened to Idra pretty quick, she'enedra. Otherwise, I may not want to leave.'
Kethry sighed, reached up for the sconce beside her, and blew out the candle, leaving the room in darkness.
The following day Tarma managed to frighten the maids half to death, rising from the pile of bedding on the floor with sword in hand at the first sound of anyone stirring. The younger of the two fainted dead away at the sight of her. The other squeaked and ran for the door. They didn't see that maid again, so Tarma figured she had refused to go back into their suite; defying any and all punishments.
The other girl vanished as soon as Kethry revived her, and they didn't see her again, either, so she probably had done the same. The next servants to enter the suite were a pair of haglike old crones with faces fit to frighten fish out of water; they attended to the cleaning and picking up of the suite, and took themselves out again with an admirable efficiency and haste. That was more like what Tarma wanted out of servants; the giggly girls fussing about drove her to distraction at the best of times, and now -- well, now she wasn't going to take anything or anyone at face value. Those giggly girls were probably spies -- maybe more.
