Among whom, she warned herself silently, might be one with a laser pistol or an old-fashioned garotte or just a plain steel knife. The last one had had such a knife. Donatella still had it in her Explorer’s case, wrapped in a bloody shirt, and she had a half-healed slash in her left arm to remind her of the cost of naive enthusiasm.
She finished her brou-pod tea, set the cup down with a little click of finality, and wiped her lips. Rise, she instructed herself. Rise to the occasion. Smile at the people. Wave. Go back in the room where they can’t see you. Do not, repeat, do not shut the curtains. Only someone with something to hide would shut the curtains.
Why in heaven’s name had she decided to stay at the Chapter House? She hadn’t remembered it being this public, this exposed. And why in heaven’s name had they built the stupid Priory right in the middle of town? She asked the services man this question when he came for her dishes.
‘I think the town grew up around it, Ma’am. Some of the nearby buildings have gone up during the past year. Sixty or seventy years ago, as I understand it, the Priory was quite secluded.’ He busied himself with the table and with a quick inspection of the room. As he left, he paused by the door to say, ‘I am, by the way, instructed to ask if you have any special wishes during your visit? Special food or drink, entertainment?’
She knew the man’s job description included entertainment of several very specific sorts, but despite his obvious charm and intelligence, he didn’t appeal to her except as a source of information. If she needed to avail herself of a service employee sexually, she’d stick to Zimmy.
‘How about a concert?’ she asked, apparently with her usual dangerously naive enthusiasm channeled this time. Used for advantage. ‘Chantry or Pit Paragon – one of those.’ She gave him an eager, expectant look.
‘It’s not considered …’ He frowned, his darkly handsome face expressing disapproval neatly mixed with a proper degree of subservience, torso ever so slightly bent toward her, respect and good advice, impeccably offered. Oh, he was slick, this one.
‘Oh, hell, man, I know what it’s considered. Slumming, right? Undignified? Why would an Explorer knight want to listen to some revisionary rip-off of the sacred calling?’
He grinned, and she suddenly liked him better.
‘Tell you what, what’s your name?’
‘Blanchet, Ma’am.’
‘All right, Blanchet, we won’t scandalize the natives by appearing in public as ourselves. You shop for me today. Buy me a wig. Let’s see. Something red, I think.’ She turned to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror, smoothing the wide, short bell of golden hair with one hand. Dark blue eyes. Straight nose, a little too long she had always felt. All that climbing about had kept her figure slim, what there was of it. She could get away with a red wig. ‘Are they still wearing masks at public events down here? Well, buy me a small one that’ll hide my eyes and nose. And a dress. I need a bright blue dress.’
The man was openly laughing now. ‘Size, Ma’am?’
‘One of those wraparound things with the straps that go all which a ways. They only come one size, you know what I mean? Stretch to fit? In some cases, stretch to rip?’
He nodded. ‘Is that all, Ma’am?’
‘Concert tickets. Any one of the top six will do fine, and you might keep your mouth shut about it, if you’re allowed to do that. No point in distressing your Prior or mine … or the Explorer King.’
‘I can be discreet.’
‘You’ll find me most generous if you are.’
He bowed himself out with the breakfast dishes, almost certainly going to report directly to someone from the Exploration Department. Probably the local Prior, who would want to know what the visiting knight was up to. So, let him report: The Explorer knight had a taste for night life; the Explorer knight wanted a new dress; the Explorer knight didn’t want to be recognized. Everything on the list slightly against the conventions and everything perfectly harmless. The conventions would have had her making a ceremonial procession of herself, dressed in tall boots and worn Explorer leathers, avoiding questionable entertainment and signing autographs with a slightly distant smile. Theoretically, they should suspect her more if she were more compliant. Surely someone on the edge of treason wouldn’t be dressing up for a ’Soilcoast singer concert.
She gritted her teeth in concentration. Since someone had tried to kill her, she had to assume that everything she did was watched, every word she said was overheard. Making contact was up to her trusted friend. All she had to do was get herself out in public where it could be done without being noticed. The Chapter House would be watched for the agreed-upon signal – a red wig and a blue dress. Pray God her trusted friend had managed everything according to plan.
And pray God the arrangement had been made with Lim Terree.
When evening came, she decided she rather liked the effect of the red wig, an almost devil-may-care gaiety, in no sense diminished by the impish half mask with the feathery eyebrows. And the blue dress, which clung satisfactorily, was a success also, drawing attention away from her face. Blanchet would accompany her, of course. Explorer knights, male or female, always had at least one escort when in the larger ’Soilcoast cities, if for no other reason than to keep the celebrity seekers in order. If she and Blanchet were lucky, they would be taken for just another couple out on the town; tourists from Serendipity or even from out-system, perhaps; or minor BDL officials in from a deepsoil pocket, a dirt town. They would have dinner, see the sights, attend
