Her accent and grammar declared her origins, though that would be impolite to say to a herald. “Your hairstyle is unlike that of any other person in the room. Also, I note that many of the women here leave one breast bare.” He nodded to a young noblewoman who passed, with a veil wrapped around one breast and shoulder, and a circlet of gems on the other.
“Ah, well, I have not her architectural support,” replied the herald.
“Surely not so,” said Tal. Key linn had taught him that this was the proper response to make whenever a woman employed self-criticism about her physical characteristics.
“Alas, cyr, yes,” she said. She gazed down at her plump chest mournfully. “It would take a flying buttress built under each to accomplish what that youngster does by youth and size alone.”
“The universe is large—”
“And standards of beauty differ. I know. But I learned my standards on Tubol, where—tall and thin people being genetically rare—tallness and thinness were most prized. As were young, flat, boyish figures. These cultural traps we set ourselves, but what are we to do? Not until we are too old to change our ways do we see them for what they are.”
Never having entered into his culture’s imperatives, this meant little to Tal. He said, “But you were going to advise me on the pleasures of Everun.”
“Yes, here we may shelter under my expertise.” She smiled happily, crinkling her clear brown eyes. “For what sort of thing are we searching? Food, sex, drugs? Places of dignity and elegance, with high prices?”
“I would be interested in hearing about all three, actually. But what I’d really like is a more informal atmosphere. Somewhere loud and talkative. Perhaps even on the edge of legality, if that doesn’t offend you, herald.”
“Ha! The young always want to fly across the take-off routes. Does your family know what you’re doing down here?” She grinned and wiped her mouth with the edge of a sleeve. “Well, you’re not the first to ask a herald for that sort of information, cyr—indeed you must avoid becoming a cliche.”
Tal waited. She said, “It would be hard to miss the sort of place you seek if you go to the Lankio Quarter. Dens of iniquity on every comer. Be sure and check that they have a state license, or you might get in over your head.” He extended a hand and they shook, Empire style. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
She picked up another goblet of tiko and buried her face in it briefly. “Five kilometers from here, seaward and north. Do you have a car, cyr?”
“Yes, thank you, I do.”
He did have a car, and a driver as well, and he left them both at the reception. He could move more easily alone.
The ducal grounds were on a hill, hedged with sculpted bushes and gardens, and the sea air blew a salt smell over the roses and honeysuckles. Leaving them and entering the city proper, he could perceive why Everun was called “a city on slopes.” The flat strip of land that held the main street of the capital and the few blocks on either side ran up the coast like a very long snake; behind it rose the Morning Mountains, green and tall and misty. The city climbed the first slopes for several kilometers before the incline steepened and the convenience of humans gave up the effort. Looking up the mountainsides one saw only the occasional flash of white in the constant green: A waterfall or a noble’s villa, it was impossible to tell from down here.
Night was falling swiftly, and birds were wheeling in from the sea. Tal headed north to begin his constant work, to make the first connections that would let him inquire in time about Belleraphon.
Behind him on the hill the display lights for the garden turned on. Silhouetted against them stood a man in the trousers and jacket of Baret state security, talking into his wrist. A thorny rose was embroidered on his pocket.
He watched Tal disappear into the dusk, then he turned and went in to the party.
For Iolanthe the week since the wedding had passed swiftly. Aside from being moved into the Protector’s suite, her life had not undergone any radical change. There was still Prudence to talk to, and new court ladies to become acquainted with, and clothing to select—the last item being as political as all items were now; she realized that everything she did could be twisted to reflect badly on Adrian, if she were not very, very careful. As for Adrian himself, she hardly saw any more of him than she did before the wedding. He was always busy. First he was closeted with the Diamond half of the trade team for three days, and now that they were downhill he seemed to have no difficulty in finding ten thousand more things to do.
It was therefore a surprise when he appeared in their suite in the middle of the day, striding in and pulling off his shirt at the same time, then rolling it into a ball and throwing it into a comer with far more force than was required.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, without thinking. She’d come to think of the suite as hers in the daytime.
“I came to wash,” he said shortly. He disappeared into the spit, where she heard him cursing the absence of soap a minute later. “Lucius! Where the hell is Lucius?”
“He went to get your shirts.” She’d never seen Adrian angry before.
“Why isn’t he ever here when I want him? When I don’t want him, he’s underfoot all the time.”
There was no good answer to that, so she was silent. He slammed out of the spit in his underwear and went to the link. She heard him say, “Paul? Tell Chin to clear out the hall, and bring up the cats…. Ten minutes…. All right, fifteen. I’m not waiting more than fifteen….
