'We've got everything well in hand,' Darkwind said, as he looked around for something to do. 'Why don't you go into the wagon and spend a little time with Nyara before the first show? You two have little enough time with each other.'
It was a suggestion Darkwind didn't have to make twice. Skif ran up the set of stairs at the tail of the wagon and joined Nyara.
She was putting on little bits of makeup and rabbit fur to make her look as if she was wearing a costume. They included a preposterous pair of artificial ears that she could have used as sails, if they'd had a boat.
She was holding them with an expression of distaste. 'I do not like these,' she sighed. 'They do not fit well, and they are very itchy!'
He chuckled and took one for her, carefully fitting it over her own, delicately pointed ear. 'If you wouldn't be so impatient, and wait for me to come and help you, they wouldn't itch as badly,' he told her, carefully gluing it in place along her cheek.
She smiled wryly, and handed him the other one to put on for her, then began to add cat-stripes to her forehead and cheekbones. 'I wish we did not have to do this,' she said pensively. But behind the pensive expression, he sensed real strain and fear. Was there more strain there tonight than last night?
'I do, too,' he told her, his voice husky with the effort of holding back emotions. She turned, then, and quickly laid the palm of her hand against his cheek, staring up into his eyes.
'If you dislike it so greatly that it hurts you - I will stop - ' she faltered, searching his face for his true feelings. 'We could - I could be displayed in a cage, perhaps - '
But that notion clearly made her more afraid than the dancing did. He shook his head, his stomach in turmoil, and captured her hand in his own. 'No,' he told her. 'No, this is the best and fastest way to get Him to hear about you. We need that. But - I worry about you,' he continued, his throat feeling choked and thick. 'I know that this could be hurting you, all these men, staring at you, and thinking the way your father did. I worry if you think I'm thinking that, too, if you wonder if that's the only way I see you, as something to use - to own - '
She licked her lips and swallowed. 'Yes,' she admitted after a long moment. 'Yes, sometimes I do wonder that. And sometimes I wonder if that is the only real worth I have - '
He started to blurt something, but she laid her finger against his lips, and smiled, a thin, sad smile but a real one. 'But then,' she continued, 'you say something like you just did - or Need tells me to stop being a stupid little kitten and get on with my job, and I know it is not true.'
She took her finger away, pulled him close, and locked him in another of her impossible, indescribable embraces.
When she released him again, she said only, 'I love you, Herald-man.'
He kissed her gently, but with no less passion. 'I love you, too, cat-lady.'
She laughed at the grease-makeup that smeared his face and delicately touched a clawed finger to the tip of his nose.
And then Darkwind began to beat the drum for Firesong's first turn, and there was no time....
Treyvan narrowed his eyes, and regarded a scarlet-clad Sun-priestess with what he hoped was a predatory expression. 'I agrrree with you that Rassshi isss a young idiot,' he said carefully, 'and he isss likely mossst difficult to worrrk with. He isss ssscatterrrbrrrained.'
The priestess nodded, her mouth forming a tight, angry line.
'But,' he continued, 'you will worrrk with him. He knowsss the ssspellsss that you do not, and you need to know them. Morrre, you need to learrrn how to worrrk with thossse you do not came forrr.'
The priestess tossed her head; he had been warned about her. She was formerly from a noble Karsite family, and she was very conscious of her birth-rank. She had made trouble before this, during her training as a Priestess. Rashi, besides being scatterbrained, was the son of a pigkeeper. But he was kindhearted as well, and he knew a series of protective spells that no one else here had mastered - and whether she liked it or not, Treyvan was determined that Gisell would learn them, and would learn to work with him.
Treyvan rose to his full height, and towered over her. 'You will worrrk with him,' he repeated. 'A mage who will not cooperrrate isss a dangerrr to all of usss. And I am not of Valdemarrr, Karrrse, orrr Rrrethwellan. I do not carrre about you orrr yourrrr alliancesss. I will be gone when thisss warrr isss overrr. I do thisss asss a perrsssonal favorrr to Darrrkwind. And I will sssnap the sssspine of anyone who makesss thisss tasssk morrrre difficult!'
Her face went blank, as she picked his words out of the tangle of trills and hisses, and then she paled. He snapped his beak once, loudly, by way of emphasis, a sound like two dry skulls crunching against each other.
'I have younglingssss to feed,' Hydona added suggestively, looking over Treyvan's shoulder. 'Meat-eaterrrsss. They do ssso love meat of good brrreeding.'
