“She spends it as fast as he makes it. And he has a genius for business. Or so they say.” Sardec did not like the direction this conversation was taking. He did not like the thought of any Exalted being so dependent on the greasy commercial skills of a human, and he said so.
“It is a disgrace,” he said.
“It is no disgrace to employ the best servants.”
“But it is to be dependent on them. A master should rule, a servant should serve.”
“I have not said that Midori does not rule Bertragh.” There was a coldness in her tone that affected Sardec. He had said something to offend her and he was not sure what. Before he could ask her the music had stopped.
“When can we expect to leave?” he asked, bowing to her.
“Soon but there are some preparations I must make first.” She curtseyed and rose. Jazeray approached to ask for a dance. “I will make sure you are informed.”
Sardec was glad to get away, despite her beauty and the envious glances of the other males. Some things were just too complicated, he thought. He longed for simpler matters.
Rik strode by Rena without acknowledging her. She was dressed in the cowled and body-hugging robe of a Scarlet Witch, with only a small domino mask to cover her face. She did not recognise him in his present costume, and he was sorry about that, but he did not want to take any chances until he was certain that they were not being watched. Of course, any observers set to watch the corridor and stairs leading from their room would notice them, but it did not matter. He was hoping that they would.
He ducked out through the main door of the building after Weasel and the Barbarian, and headed down into a dimly lighted side alley. They stopped there for the moment, in the shelter of the arch, glanced around to make sure they were not being observed, and then shucked their costumes. Underneath, they had different costumes and another set of masks. The Barbarian was garbed as a mountain troll, Weasel as a river pirate, Rik as a Priest of the Gibellian sect. The Barbarian’s mask was a particularly impressive one, and Rik suspected he took a childish delight in it.
Moments later they headed out into the swirl of the crowd. The streets were packed even for a Solace Night masquerade. Everyone, no matter how poor, had some sort of costume, even if it was only a mask and a dyed robe. People swigged from bottles, sang, danced and chanted. Many smoked locoweed from water pipes. Children danced and played. Tonight they were allowed to join in the revels for as long as they could stay awake. Many clutched small dolls, or wooden toys. Some whipped tops in the street. Fireworks spurted skywards. An air of happiness filled the streets, communicating itself even to Rik despite his unease. He wondered where Leon was, and whether everything was going according to plan.
After the first round of dancing Sardec watched Asea glide off to talk with Midori. They retired to a small table on the edge of the ballroom and sat there, while servants brought them refreshments. Sardec watched her go for a moment, and then retired to the other side of the hall, where the officers lounged and chatted.
“I see you made quite an impression on the Lady Asea,” said Jazeray. There was a sardonic note in his voice that Sardec did not like in the slightest. Jazeray laughed a little too loudly and took another sip of his drink. He returned to discussing the entertainments they could find after the ball. It seemed there was a certain gambling house in the Pit where heavy stakes wagers were accepted and the whores were pretty. Marcus and Paulus listened eagerly. Sardec drank some more lunar wine. He felt his skin start to tingle. He felt wild and reckless and ready for anything. Most of all he wanted out of this mansion and away from the daunting Lady Asea. He wanted to regain a feeling of being in control of things.
“Perhaps you would care to join us?” Marcus asked. Sardec was on the verge of refusing when Jazeray said. “Prince Sardec is far too staid to lower himself to such base entertainments.”
“Perhaps I shall,” said Sardec, not sure exactly why he said it, but pleased to see the self-satisfied smirk vanish from Jazeray’s lips. “Now if you will excuse me, my brother officers, I think I shall mingle with the other guests.”
“By all means, mingle,” said Jazeray, with a sardonic quirk of his eyebrow.
“We shall send a messenger to tell you when we are leaving,” said Marcus. Sardec felt a strange lurch in the pit of his stomach. What was he getting himself into, he wondered?
Rik stopped a street vendor and bought several sticks of skewered meat roasted over charcoal, then along with his two companions headed back inside Mama Horne’s. They had taken Weasel’s share of the money to the goldsmith’s. Only he would have known where to find a man who would be open for business on a night like this. They had changed most of the money there, and Weasel had left most of his on deposit. Rik had kept some gold pieces. They were more portable than pouches of silver.
It did not look as if they had been spotted but it was difficult to tell whether they were being watched amid the madness of Solace.
A glance showed him there were many people garbed as hill-men in the street. A closer look told him that some of these people might even belong to the clans. That was not something that reassured him.
He headed back into Mama Horne’s. Inside he saw Rena. He was glad she was there. He walked over to her and bending over her shoulder kissed her on the cheek.
“Hello pretty girl,” he said.
“Hello, handsome man,” she said, recognising his voice. “I was wondering when your business would be over.”
“It’s not over yet,” he said, looking at the doorway, and wondering when Leon would return. “I just wanted to wish you a wonderful Solace and tell you that you should buy the dress you wanted.”
He pressed one of the gold coins he had gotten earlier from Bertragh into her hand. It was a small fortune, he knew, but for some reason he felt like making the gesture. He was not entirely sure why. He knew it was not from generosity, for he was not a generous man. It was in part because he was aware he would be doing something dangerous in the not too distant future, something that might lead to his death. If that was so, all the gold in the world would not make the slightest difference, and he wanted someone at least to have a pleasant memory of him.
She looked down into her hand, not quite realising what it was he had given her. He could almost see her taking in the queen’s head on one side and the date of minting on the other.
“Put it away before someone sees it,” he said.
“Is it real?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get it?”
“It’s loot.” Better to give her a story than tell her the truth or be evasive, he thought. Part of him knew it was madness. All he was doing was leaving a trail that the right eye could pick up on. Nonetheless the impulse to give was too strong for him. “I picked it up on campaign.”
“I don’t want it. You might need it.”
“I have more.” She pushed it back into his hand.
“I still don’t want it. It’s yours.”
“It’s yours now. I gave it to you.” He pushed both her hands together around the coin and then let go.
“You mean it?”
“If you don’t want it, give it away. I will not take it back.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. “Why?”
“You deserve a nice dress,” he said, neither wanting nor feeling capable of giving his real reasons. At that moment, he noticed that Leon has returned. He was garbed as the theatrical version of a river boatman. He waved urgently at Rik. It was time to get to work.
“I have to go,” he said.
“But you’ve only just got here.”
“I have work to do.”
“When will I see you again?”
Maybe never, he thought. “As soon as I am done,” he said. The look in her eyes told him that somehow she
