"I'm being silly. A bad haircut is the least of our troubles."
"It's the final indignity. Anyone with any heart at all would be overwhelmed by it. But you're right. In the end it matters for nothing whether we have long hair or short. I think we should both go as boys tonight. The troopers will be looking for two girls."
Comfort looked at her, eyes round. "You're going to cut your hair?"
"You're going to cut it for me."
Three hours later a royal overlord boy, dressed in tan suede knickers with a matching jerkin, slipped out of Lord Carrul's house by way of the alley door. His slave, a well-dressed boy in flannel trousers with leather boots and a wool vest, followed a few steps behind. Darkness had already fallen.
The jerkin Repentance wore was a little out of fashion, being a size too big and loose-fitting, but it covered her shape without showing any curves and the largeness of it made her look small—like a boy in his twelfth or thirteenth year. And that was good as her voice was not deep enough to sound like it belonged to one who had already ripened into manhood. Her hair was cut shorter than Sober's. When she'd looked in the reflecting stone she couldn't believe how large her eyes seemed in her small face. But it had to be that short. If she turned her head the right way her birthmark was visible. The troopers were looking for a runaway female slave. And if she knew the prince, he hadn't bothered to tell anyone that the slave bore the royal birthmark.
She would pass this night as a member of the royal house come over from Norbank for the feast—a nephew to Lord Baldin—and her birthmark may be needed to purchase her way into the palace.
Of course, she traveled with her slave.
Comfort, once she accepted the idea, played her part to the full. She'd smudged a little ash into her cheeks and chin to make herself look work worn and she held her mouth in a tight line—no sign of Comfort's plump, red lips in Vengeance, the slave's, serious face.
Comfort walked a step behind her master. They turned the corner onto the main thoroughfare, which was clotted with small groups of people. The sound of singing drifted from the pub. The mountain magic was flowing, apparently, despite the lack of a good swinging to get everyone in the mood for drink. She and Comfort fell in behind a trail of people, working their way to the palace.
As they wound through the city streets more and more people filed in from side streets. Many of them were wrapped in lava-cloth cloaks or shawls and Repentance mentally kicked herself for forgetting how chilly the mountain could get once the sun went down. She shoved her cold hands into the pockets of her jerkin.
By the time they reached the palace gates, they were shuffling along with a good-sized throng. There were not many richly dressed overlords in the crowd. Most of those rode in carts. Repentance hoped the fact that she was just a boy would make people overlook the fact that an overlord noble was walking alongside the commoners. She was obviously a foreigner with her dark complexion. She hoped the people in the crowd would allow for her presence, figuring that overlords in Norbank did things differently from overlords in Harthill. A few people gave her odd looks, but most simply shrugged and moved on. They were looking forward to a night of food and drink and goodwill, and they apparently didn't have time to wonder about the young nobleman in their midst.
Two troopers stood at the palace gates, watching the crowd.
A prickly feeling ran over Repentance when she saw them and the collar of her white silk shirt felt too tight. She forced herself to slow her breathing. Surely no one was expecting her to break into the palace grounds. Not after she'd gone to such extremes to run away.
She and Comfort followed the crowd, shuffling through the gates without incident. On feast nights all were welcome, apparently.
They traveled up the long drive. As she drew nearer the palace, Repentance surveyed the set-up. She came to the slave tables first—she saw several of the palace slaves already seated. As she moved on, she saw the poor overlord tables, and then the rich overlord tables. Finally she arrived at the tables for royalty. Past those, right in front of the palace's main entrance, was the platform—still vacant, thank Providence—where the king and his family should sit.
In between the royal tables and the royal platform was a bonfire, on both sides of which jugglers entertained a mixed crowd that looked to be mostly comprised of slave children and poor overlord children.
Repentance, with Comfort following dutifully, circled back toward the slave tables. It wouldn't do for an overlord prince to mix with the slaves, so Repentance stayed in the main walkway. There were booths set up on both sides of the walkway. Over the curtained doorways hung signs that said things like, Madam Menntiss, Moon Magician: five beads for your future, or, Madam Lilliberrn, Lunar Enlightenment: if you don't like your fortune you keep your beads in your pocket. One booth sold jewelry—bracelets dangling with moon charms and necklaces made of blue moonstones. Another sold mooncloth.
Just past Madam Lilliberrn's booth, was a booth with no sign and no curtain hanging in the doorway. She casually peeked in and found it empty. Drawing off to the side of that booth, she surveyed the slave tables.
And there he was. Shamed. He sat next
