be worn in open company.
Well enough, she had prepared her weapons—now it was to the arms court to see how well those could be used. She saw the maid's face reflected over her shoulder in the mirror as she arose fluidly. The stupid child was in the proper state of awe—let her hope that a like effect would fall on the company waiting to be met.
The maid hurried to open the door and Taynad swept through, the veiling which was her gown swirling in ever-changing color about her. At least she was being given a proper entourage. There were four of the hefty guards statue still at attention, their eyes not daring to follow her, as they came to life and fell in about her. While the house master trotted like a ushound back to his master at the fore of their small procession.
They passed down the hall, passing several open or half-open doorways and Taynad was well aware that she was on view. She also fed upon the emotions which the sight of her awoke. Easy—easy these Tssekians—it certainly must be that they were totally unacquainted with the Jewelbright. Were all their women as clumsy and heavy bodied as the servant they had inflicted on her? She probably had no rival, though she must not be overconfident. Sometimes the tastes of off-worlders ran in strange patterns.
The house master ushered her into a high-ceilinged room with the same color-scrawled walls which made her suppress a shudder. In the exact center of what seemed an overlong room for the purpose was a dais crowned by a table and several chairs, each one upholstered in a vivid color which inclined to war with the hue of its neighbors.
One of the occupants of that dais had arisen and now stepped down, his arm swinging across the breast of his overly ornate jacket in what was doubtless meant to be a gesture of greeting. The Horde Commander—
Taynad inclined her head at just the proper gracious angle, indicating that she acknowledged his right to so meet her. However, it was the man who had not stood, who instead sat, slightly hunched, in the mid chair at that table, who was the important one. She placed two fingers on the back of the hand Sopt s'Qu extended and matched step with him as he turned back to the dais.
Below the first step she dropped the touch and curled gracefully forward in the First-Time-House-Greeting obeisance, bringing her two hands together, fingers pointed upward, under her chin and lowering her head, but not so far that she did not have full view of the two at the table.
One of them had arisen in proper courtesy and she knew him instantly for the Zacathan. The other continued to sit, staring at her, though she had not missed that sudden widening of his eyes. He might put on the seeming of one encased in boredom, one who must be coaxed and teased into whatever these Tssekians deemed was the proper height of pleasure, but certainly he had not seen
'This Jewel one,' she used the trade tongue, though she might have spoken in his own guttural sounds—only it was far better that these believed her lacking in knowledge of their speech—at least for awhile, 'arrives, Illustrious Lord of Many Lands and High Towers.'
He made no move except for one hand and he snapped the fingers of that. From somewhere below the level of her sight, hidden by the folds of the golden cloth which enveloped the table, arose a furred creature.
It was about the size of a two-year-old child and humanoid enough that, as it jumped to the arm of its master's chair, it squatted on its haunches and held its upper limbs and paws as one would use arms and hands. Its body was covered sleekly with a tightly curled fur growth of dull grey-blue. The head was round with the snout seemingly pushed back towards the skull, so that the flesh there was wrinkled. Eyes which were apparently pupilless, like opaque copper gems, were overlarge and were now regarding Taynad oddly. She gave it a quick glance, unable to judge what it might be.
Ears long, shaped like pointed leaves, the tips of them bearing tufts of fur, flanked the skull on either side, set well back on the head. Those tufted tips now tilted in her direction.
Issha knowledge gave a certain rapport with all living things. Those of the Lair had contact with and made use, on occasion, of flyers, creepers, runners which were native to the mountain heights. But Taynad sensed here something which was not quite animal. Was it a potential danger? The Shagga priests, she knew, had such control over some creatures as to even make of them weapons. Had this Holder such a protection in this thing?
She could not continue to hold her position of formal greeting without losing face—that command of the situation which she must retain at all costs. Was this thrice-cursed world ruler never going to make her any welcome?
He was leaning a fraction forward again and this time she felt a little more at ease; there was no mistaking that she had begun to awaken his interest. Shoving aside the creature he had summoned a moment earlier, he got to his feet.
As Sopt s'Qu he was a short man, seeming almost of a different race than the tall guards—which, of course, might be true. His skin was very fair and bore no trace of beard, nor did he show any great signs of age—the life span on Tssek must be a greatly advanced one. His hair came to a sharp peak over brows which slanted a little upward and was nearly as dark as her own. On one cheek there was a distinct pattern of red lines as if he had been tattooed.
'Our house is honored.' The timbre of his voice was oddly rich, almost he spoke as would a legender of a lord's hall, trained to make the most of every possible inflection. It held warmth which drew but which was in contrast to the man himself. 'Will the most Gracious Jeweled One guest with us?'
Shoving back his chair a fraction, he moved around the table and took two steps down from the dais. Beside her Taynad heard the indrawn breath of the Horde Commander—apparently she was indeed in the process of being given some extraordinary honor.
Then the Holder held out his own hand as his subordinate had earlier, and with confidence and the air of one only claiming what was rightfully her own, Taynad advanced to touch fingers. Only it was not polite and formal finger touch which greeted her, rather he actually grasped her hand in his and she recognized the gesture of one taking possession. The first encounter—he must believe that it would be wholly all his desire. She meekly allowed him to steer her up to the dais and install her in the chair next to his.
The furred creature had made no sound but had continued to eye her, and Taynad felt a tinge of uneasiness.
'This is our good friend,' the Holder had gestured toward the Zacathan, who bowed where he stood. 'The Histechneer Zurzal, who will lend the fruit of his great learning to our project. And'—he let his hand fall so that his fingers slid from the nape of the furred creature's neck down its back—'this is Yan.' He gave no other explanation of what purpose the creature served. Instead he reached out and selected a round blue fruit from a dish before him and dropped it into eagerly reaching paw hands.
Servants appeared with food and it would seem that the Holder did not encourage speech while eating, for his
