cowardly to try.'
Keffria smiled a genuine smile. 'Cowardly is the last word I would use to describe you,' she said fondly.
'How will we get home? The hired coach will not be back for hours.'
'Grandmother is talking to Davad Restart. She will ask if his coach could take us home. It would not take long. It would be back long before the ball is scheduled to end.'
Grandmother came hastening up to them. 'Davad is reluctant to see us leave, but he has agreed to loan us the use of his coach.' She scowled suddenly. 'But there is a condition on it. He demands that Malta come and bid the Satrap farewell before she leaves. I told him I thought that improper and putting herself forward, but he insists on it. I feel we have no time to argue. The sooner we are home, the safer we shall be. Now, where has Selden got off to?'
'He was with the Daw boys a moment ago. I'll find him.' Keffria abruptly sounded both weary and harassed. 'Malta, do you mind? Grandmother will be with you, so you needn't be afraid.'
Malta suddenly wondered how much they had deduced about her earlier encounter with the Satrap. 'I'm not afraid,' she retorted. 'Shall we meet you outside?'
'I suppose that will work. I'll go and find Selden.'
As she and her grandmother crossed the floor, Ronica Vestrit spoke. 'I think we shall host a tea ten days from now. The group of women presented this year is not large. Shall we invite them all?'
Malta was startled. 'A tea? At our home?'
'In the garden, I think. We should be able to trim it up decently. Now that the berries are ripening, we could make little tarts to serve. In my day, such little tea parties often had a theme.' Grandmother smiled to herself. 'My mother held one for me, in which everything was lavender or violet. We ate tiny candied violets, and sugar cakes tinted purple with blueberry juice and the tea was flavored with lavender. I thought it tasted dreadful, but the idea of it was so lovely I didn't mind.' She chuckled aloud.
Grandmother was trying to make her feel better. 'Our lavender is blooming very well this year,' Malta pointed out with an effort. 'If we are deliberately old-fashioned, then no one will remark if we use the old lace tablecloths and doilies. And the old china, perhaps.' She tried to smile.
'Oh, Malta, this has all been so unfair to you,' Grandmother began. Then, 'Chin up; cheery smile. Here comes Davad.'
He bore down on them like a big gander in a poultry yard. 'Well, I do think it is tragic, just tragic, to hurry this sweet girl home like this. Is her headache truly that bad?'
'Devastating,' Malta replied quickly. So that had been her grandmother's ruse. 'I am not accustomed to such late hours, you know,' she added sweetly. 'I told Grandmother I only wished to bid you good night and thank you for your kind offer of your coach. Then we shall be on our way.'
'Oh, my poor little sugarplum! Surely, you will at least bid the Satrap good evening. After all, I have already told him you must leave, and I've come to escort you while you say good-bye.'
That sealed her doom. No gracious way out. 'I suppose I could manage it,' Malta said faintly. She set her hand on Davad's arm, and he hastened her across the room to the high dais, with Ronica Vestrit hurrying after them.
'Here she is, Magnadon Satrap,' Davad announced grandly before Malta had even caught her breath. He did not seem to notice that he had interrupted a conversation Trader Daw was having with the Satrap.
The Satrap turned a languorous glance on Malta. 'So I see,' he said slowly. His eyes moved over her casually. 'Such a shame you must leave so soon. We have had only the briefest of conversations, and on such an important topic.'
Malta could think of nothing to say. She had sunk into a deep curtsey the moment the Satrap deigned to notice her. Now Davad rather ungracefully took her arm and hauled her to her feet again. The act made her appear clumsy; she felt the blood rush to her face. 'Aren't you going to tell him good night?' Davad prompted her as if she were a backward child.
'I wish you a good evening, Magnadon Satrap. I thank you for the honor of your dance.' There. That was dutiful and correct. Then, before she could forbid herself the hope, she added, 'And I pray you will soon act on your offer to send rescue for my father.'
'I fear I may not be able to, sweet child. Trader Daw tells me there is some unrest down in the harbor tonight. Surely my patrol vessels must stay in Bingtown until it is subdued.'
Before Malta could decide if he expected an answer to that, he was turning to Davad. 'Trader Restart, would you have your coach summoned? Trader Daw feels it might be safest for myself to leave the ball early. I shall be sorry not to witness all of your quaint festival, of course, but I see I am not the only one to prefer caution over entertainment.' His languid arm swept the ballroom. Malta glanced around reflexively. The crowd had thinned substantially, and many of those who remained were gathered in small anxious groups and talking. Only a few young couples still moved across the dance floor in apparently blissful ignorance.
Davad looked uncomfortable. 'I beg your pardon, Magnadon Satrap. I had just promised Trader Vestrit and her family the use of my coach to get her safely home. But it will return quite swiftly, I promise you.'
The Satrap rose, stretching like a cat. 'It will not need to, Trader Restart. Surely, you cannot have intended to send these women off by themselves? I shall accompany them to their home, to see them safely there. Perhaps young Malta and I shall have a chance this evening to continue our interrupted conversation.' The smile he gave her was a lazy one.
Her grandmother swept forward in a rustle of gown. She curtseyed low, near demanding that the Satrap recognize her. After a moment, he nodded at her irritably. 'Lady,' he acknowledged in a flat voice.
She rose. 'Magnadon Satrap, I am Malta's grandmother, Ronica Vestrit. We would, of course, be honored to have you call upon us, but I fear our household is a very humble one. We could scarcely accommodate your visit tonight; at least, not in the manner in which you are no doubt accustomed to being welcomed. We would, of course-'
'My dear lady, the whole purpose of travel is to experience that which one is not accustomed to. I am sure I shall find your household accommodating. Davad, you will see to sending my personal servants over tonight, will you not? And my trunks and baggage.'
The way he spoke, it was not a request. Davad bobbed an acquiescent bow. 'Certainly, my lord Magnadon. And-'
'Your coach is outside by now, surely. Let us take our leave. Trader Daw, bring Companion Kekki's wrap and my cloak.'
Davad Restart made a last brave attempt. 'Magnadon Satrap, I fear we shall be very crowded in the coach-'
'Not if you ride on top with the driver. Companion Serilla seems to have vanished. Be it upon her own head. If she will not attend me as she should, then she must bear the consequences. Let us leave.'
So saying, he rose from his seat on the dais, descended to the floor and set off for the main door. Davad hurried after him like a leaf caught in a ship's wake. Malta exchanged a look with her grandmother and then they both followed. 'What are we to do?' Malta whispered worriedly to her.
'We shall be courteous,' her grandmother assured her. 'And no more than that,' she added in a dangerously low voice.
Outside, the night was mild and pleasant, save for a distinct odor of smoke on the breeze. The Concourse had no view of Bingtown proper. There was no way to tell what was on fire, or where, but just the smell of it put shivers up Malta's back. Cloaks and wraps were brought hastily and the coach came around. Ignoring his own Companion, the Satrap took Malta's arm and assisted her into the coach first. He followed her and sat down by her on the ample seat. He gave Davad a look. 'You will have to ride up top with the driver, Trader Restart. Otherwise, we shall be unforgivably crowded. Ah, yes, Kekki, you shall sit here, on the other side of me.'
That left the opposite seat for her grandmother, mother and Selden. Malta felt wedged in the corner, for the Satrap sat uncomfortably close to her, his thigh nearly brushing hers. She tried not to look alarmed, but folded her hands modestly in her lap and gazed out the window. She was suddenly exhausted. She desired nothing so much as to be alone. The coach rocked as Davad climbed up awkwardly to take a seat next to the coachman. It took a while for him to settle and then the driver spoke to the horses. The coach moved out smoothly, leaving behind the lights and the music. As the darkness closed around them and the sound of the ball dwindled, the driver
