off.' He began to cut at it, pulling off small bunches and placing them in a tin bowl. 'But it's necessary.'
El-Navar seemed surprisingly practiced at the task, cutting delicately, particularly at the nape of her neck. Kit shuddered involuntarily as he placed his strong hand on her neck to bend her head forward, but it was not an unpleasant sensation. He worked in silence for a long while.
Kitiara was lulled by his touch, which was as gentle as it was assured.
'What is Droopface always reading?' Kitiara asked.
'Oh,' said El-Navar as he worked. 'It's some book he picked up in a market somewhere. Magic tricks and potions. I can't read for beans myself. He thinks he's studying to be a mage. He has managed to teach himself a couple of simple spells that do come in handy. I expect we'll see some of his expertise tomorrow.'
El-Navar was meticulous. He worked for a time on her bangs, shortening almost up to her hairline. And as he worked he stared right into Kit's eyes. She was startled to realize his eyes weren't as hard and metallic as they first appeared. She could see through them, to their essence, which was lush and sensuous. His breath was hot and aromatic, suggestive of faraway lands.
'But,' continued El-Navar, 'Droopface has no real affinity for magic. It is all stunts and illusions. If you ask me, magic is a plague sweeping Krynn, and there are too many people trying their hand at spellcasting who ought to be doing something else with their lives.'
'Tell me this,' asked Kitiara, changing the subject, 'who is Gwathmey's son, and why are we so interested in him?'
The Karnuthian laughed lustily, baring his white teeth, shaking his curly snake hair and sending the gold hoop into a frenzy of motion. 'You don't give up, Kitiara,' he said, taking a few final snips of her hair, 'but you will know everything soon enough. Not yet. Not tonight…' His voice was a rich, soothing purr.
The sky was tranquil. The other three men appeared to have fallen asleep. Clouds hid Lunitari, though Kit could still tell that the red moon was full.
'Done!' The Karnuthian stood up, reached into his pack, and pulled out a piece of cut glass which he proffered to Kitiara.
She examined herself and found a curiously new face with a wide expanse of skin at the forehead and temples, framed by sideburns and a neatly trimmed cap of black hair. The effect did make her look for all the world like a young gentleman.
El-Navar placed select tufts of hair into a small pouch. 'We will finish off the mustache in the morning,' he said.
'Mustache?'
'You are to be the decoy, Kitiara,' said El-Navar. 'We are not after Gwathmey's son. More precisely, we are after what he is carrying. When we attack him, you will lead his guards on a merry diversion. From a good distance, you will look almost exactly like the young fellow.'
El-Navar strode to Radisson's horse and took something out of his saddlebags. 'Radisson was going to play that part, but your appearance was fortuitous. We can use him closer to the action. Here, try these on,' he added, tossing a small bundle of clothing at her. 'Make sure they fit.'
Kitiara took them and went behind a tree. The costume consisted of leather breeches, a brocaded shirt, and an expensive vest. A jacket finished the ensemble. The outfit fit a little loosely, but Kitiara made do and came around the tree for El-Navar's appraisal. He was cleaning his blade with water. When he looked up at her, his expression was almost startled. Slowly he sheathed his blade and stood up to gaze more closely at Kitiara.
'Yes,' he said, with obvious satisfaction.
She frowned at him. 'I feel silly. Can't I do something more important?'
'You'll be doing something very important,' said El-Navar. 'Do not fear.'
'How much of a fortune is the duke's son carrying?'
'Tomorrow, Kitiara,' El-Navar replied, with good humor. 'Tonight, get some sleep,'
Kit stole another glance at herself in the piece of glass; if she had to admit it, she liked the way she looked in these luxurious clothes. As she angled the mirror, Kit caught El-Navar gazing pointedly at her. Suddenly she discovered herself trembling. Kit held his gaze for several long seconds before bringing the mirror down.
'I like it,' she said, turning to meet his glittering eyes.
Kit handed the mirror back to the Karnuthian before going behind the tree to change again. She had managed to slip out of the leather breeches and was just unbuttoning her shirt when El-Navar's voice came to her in an enchanting whisper.
'It will be cold tonight, Kitiara,' El-Navar said. 'I would share my bedroll with you.'
She came out from around the tree, half undressed. 'Say what you mean,' she said evenly.
'Come to me,' El-Navar replied.
For some reason she could not have put into words, Kit glanced over to where Ursa slept. His back was to her. She could not see that his eyes were wide open, that their expression was stony. But he lay still, apparently asleep. Without further hesitation, Kitiara went to El-Navar.
Chapter 7
Kitiara had a dreamless night. When her eyes fluttered open, she stretched and yawned. Then, with a start, Kit realized the sun was bright in her eyes, and she jumped up, clutching the blanket to herself, embarrassed.
She was the last one awake. Radisson, who was tying something to his horse, smirked at her. Droopface was already astride his mule, with its pouches, pots, and pans, looking more alert and purposeful than he had for days.
Her face burning, Kit slipped behind some bushes to change into her gentleman's garb. She could hear Radisson chuckling, and Ursa saying something to him. Radisson muttered something else, and Ursa told him to shut up. Furiously she fixed her costume and came out from behind the bushes, ready.
Ursa came over, glaring. He reached into his pocket and got out a bushy swatch of Kit's hair that had been affixed to a strip of muslin. With some paste he stuck the makeshift mustache under her nose, roughly enough that she winced. 'Yes,' Ursa said approvingly, appraising her mannish disguise.
Among them all hung an air of tension that had been absent before, when their mission had not been so immediate. And where was El-Navar?
She spotted the sinewy Karnuthian on his white stallion, atop a rise some distance away, shading his eyes and looking off toward the northeast. El-Navar was slumped in the saddle, almost humpbacked, reverting to his strange daytime languor. He did not even so much as glance in Kit's direction.
She realized that she was staring too hard at the Karnuthian and that Ursa was watching her carefully, so Kit turned her face sharply toward the mercenary.
'Why didn't you wake me up sooner?' she demanded angrily.
'Why didn't you wake yourself up, sleeping beauty?' piped up Radisson from his horse. Droopface gave an uncharacteristic guffaw.
Kitiara took a step toward Radisson, her hand reaching for a knife that was not there-indeed, she was unarmed, and on her costume there were no belts or loops for weapons.
'You had a good rest,' Ursa said tersely, stepping in front of Kit to block her. 'There was little for you to do anyway. Now, let's hurry.' He looked at the sun, already midway through its morning arc. 'We don't want to miss our…
Kit couldn't help but glance again at El-Navar, but the Karnuthian hadn't budged, still hadn't even looked toward her. He seemed as if he were sleeping, or dead, as if only his eyes were alive, searching the horizon.
Damn your soul, Kitiara thought coldly.
She made sure Cinnamon was all right while the others waited. Then she pocketed Gilon's small carving knife, just in case. In a matter of minutes Kit climbed onto her father's chestnut mare and rode out last in the mercenary band, their sparse column stretching out for a quarter-mile. Today El-Navar was far in the lead, still hunched in the saddle, never looking behind him as he rode.
