“Clever,” I complimented him.
He shrugged. “I’ll arrange something to bring the two of you together early on. Is there anything you require for the practice of your art?”
“A goodly amount of paper should suffice, your grace. Ink and pens.”
“Nothing more than that? I’ve heard tell of poets who need certain extravagancies to aid them in their composition.” He made an inarticulate gesture. “A specific type of drink or scenery? I’ve heard of a poet, quite famous in Renere, who has a trunk of rotting apples he keeps close at hand. Whenever his inspiration fails him, he opens it and breathes the fumes they emit.”
I laughed. “I am a
The idea seemed to trouble Alveron. “Nothing to aid your inspiration?”
“I would have your leave to freely wander the estates and Severen-Low according to my will, your grace.”
“Of course.”
I gave an easy shrug. “In that case, I have everything I need for inspiration within easy reach.”
I had barely set foot on Tinnery Street when I saw her. With all the fruitless searching I had done over the last several months, it seemed odd that I should find her so easily now.
Denna moved through the crowd with slow grace. Not the stiffness that passes for grace in courtly settings, but a natural leisure of movement. A cat does not think of stretching, it stretches. But a tree does not even do this. A tree simply sways without the effort of moving itself. That is how she moved.
I caught up to her as quickly as I could without attracting her attention. “Excuse me, miss?”
She turned. Her face brightened at the sight of me. “Yes?”
“I would never normally approach a woman in this way, but I couldn’t help but notice that you have the eyes of a lady I was once desperately in love with.”
“What a shame to love only once,” she said, showing her white teeth in a wicked smile. “I’ve heard some men can manage twice or even more.”
I ignored her gibe. “I am only a fool once. Never will I love again.”
Her expression turned soft and she laid her hand lightly on my arm. “You poor man! She must have hurt you terribly.”
“’Struth, she wounded me more ways than one.”
“But such things are to be expected,” she said matter-of-factly. “How could a woman help but love a man so striking as yourself?”
“I know not,” I said modestly. “But I think she must not, for she caught me with an easy smile, then stole away without a word. Like dew in dawn’s pale light.”
“Like a dream upon waking,” Denna added with a smile.
“Like a faerie maiden slipping through the trees.”
Denna was silent for a moment. “She must have been wondrous indeed, to catch you so entire,” she said, looking at me with serious eyes.
“She was beyond compare.”
“Oh come now.” Her manner changed to jovial. “We all know that when the lights are out all women are the same height!” She gave a rough chuckle and ribbed me knowingly with an elbow.
“Not true,” I said with firm conviction.
“Well,” she said slowly. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.” She looked back up at me. “Perhaps in time you can convince me.”
I looked into the deep brown of her eyes. “That has ever been my hope.”
Denna smiled and my heart stepped sideways in my chest. “Maintain it.” She slid her arm inside the curve of mine and fell into step beside me. “For without hope what do any of us have?”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Telling Faces
I spent a fair portion of the next two days under Stapes’ tutelage, ensuring I knew the proper etiquette for a formal dinner. I was already familiar with a great deal of it from my early childhood, but I was glad for the review. Customs differ from place to place and year to year, and even small missteps can lead to great embarrassment.
So Stapes conducted a dinner for just the two of us, then informed me of a dozen small but important mistakes I had made. Setting down a dirty utensil was considered crude, for example. That meant it was perfectly acceptable to lick one’s knife clean. In fact, if you didn’t want to dirty your napkin it was the only seemly thing to do.
It was improper to eat the entirety of a piece of bread. Some portion should always be left on the plate, preferably more than crust. The same was true of milk: the final swallow should always remain in the glass.
The next day Stapes staged another dinner and I made more mistakes. Commenting on the food wasn’t rude, but it was rustic. The same was true of smelling the wine. And, apparently, the small soft cheese I’d been served possessed a rind. A rind any civilized person would have recognized as inedible and meant to be pared away.
Barbarian that I am, I had eaten all of it. It had tasted quite nice too. Still, I took note of this fact and resigned myself to throw away half of a perfectly good cheese if it was set in front of me. Such is the price of civilization.
I arrived for the banquet wearing a suit of clothes tailored just for the occasion. The colors were good for me, leaf green and black. There was too much brocade for my taste, but tonight I made a grudging bow to fashion as I would be seated to the left of Meluan Lackless.
Stapes had staged six formal dinners for me in the last three days, and I felt prepared for anything. When I arrived outside the banquet hall, I expected the hardest part of the evening would be feigning interest in the food.
But while I might have been prepared for the meal, I was not prepared for the sight of Meluan Lackless herself. Luckily, my stage training took hold and I moved smoothly through the ritual motion of smiling and offering my arm. She nodded courteously and we made our procession to the table together.
There were tall candelabra with dozens of candles. Engraved silver pitchers held hot water for handbowls and cold water for drinking glasses. Old vases with elaborate floral arrangements sweetened the air. Cornucopia overflowed with polished fruit. Personally, I found it gaudy. But it was traditional, a showcase for the wealth of the host.
I walked the Lady Lackless to the table and held out her chair. I had avoided looking in her direction as we walked the length of the room, but as I helped her into her seat, her profile struck me with such a strong resemblance that I couldn’t help but stare. I knew her, I was certain of it. But I couldn’t for the life of me remember where we might have met. . . .
As I took my seat, I tried to guess where I might have seen her before. If the Lackless lands weren’t a thousand miles away, I would have thought I knew her from the University. But that was ridiculous. The Lackless heir wouldn’t study so far from home.
My eyes wandered over maddeningly familiar features. Might I have met her at the Eolian? That didn’t seem likely. I would have remembered. She was strikingly lovely, with a strong jaw and dark brown eyes. I’m sure if I’d seen her there . . .
“Do you see aught that interests you?” she asked without turning to look at me. Her tone was pleasant, but accusation lay not far beneath the surface.
I had been staring. Hardly a minute at table and I was already putting my elbow in the butter. “I beg your pardon. But I am a keen observer of faces, and yours struck me.”
Meluan turned to look at me, her irritation fading a bit. “Are you a turagior?”
