hand. I swept it low in front of Serein. “Take a drink.”
He declined, uncomfortably.
“Go on,” said Tern.
“I don’t drink,” he said, reddening.
“No, really? Tonight of all nights!” I pushed the tray toward him. “One glass of champers to celebrate?”
“Sorry, no, Shira-I’m not used to it. If I took a drink now, I could never rise at six to practice.”
After a duel like that, who would anyway? “Sleep till midday,” I said. “Your first day as an Eszai. That’s what I did. I sprayed champagne everywhere; I love being soaked to the skin in it.”
Lightning was enjoying this. “The Swordsman doesn’t drink alcohol, so leave him alone.”
“Shira, if I slip up and lose my edge a Challenger will get the better of me.”
Every time he said “Shira” I bit my teeth together and they were starting to hurt. I said, “Call me Jant. The name Shira really signifies I belong in the lower caste among the Rhydanne. It means ‘Born out of wedlock’-I can’t translate it better than that.” Well actually I can, because it means “bastard,” but I’m not putting ideas in his head.
Wrenn had caused offense already and he was appalled. His face moved awkwardly; he was overaware of its every feature. “I’m sorry.”
“Worry not.” I waved a hand. I make my body language expressive to compensate for the difficulty most people have in reading my cat eyes.
Wrenn shuffled his feet as if they took up too much space on the carpet. I wanted to tell him, I understand how daunting this is, but lighten up, you won’t be out on the street tomorrow. You’ll still be here, immortal, staring at the backs of your hands like a fool.
He was frantically searching for something to say. Every word sounded loud and momentous to him; he picked them carefully, knowing they would be permanently impressed on his memory. I remember when I was in his position, in my reception when I was surrounded by Eszai-I had heard of every single one before through tales or monuments to their work. They were all here, in one place, and they talked to each other! I had been a novelty to them. I tried to get to know them all in one night, but the Eszai I most wanted to speak to was the Comet I had displaced. I practically pinned Rayne against a column and gabbled to her excitedly about chemistry and the latest research into Insect behavior. I told her far too much about my past, without realizing she understood, and that in describing the slums of Hacilith I had reminded her too much of hers.
I could offer Wrenn advice and he might bring something new and interesting to the Castle. I began to understand why Lightning took newcomers rapidly under his wing. I said, “Serein is your stage name; you’ll be grateful for it. You can make Serein whoever you want and Wrenn, your real self, will be safe.”
Serein glanced across the hall and suddenly gaped at a gossipy cluster of extremely beautiful girls. They saw him watching and wafted their plumed fans, parading themselves. They were mortals-Zascai-only fleeting names; they stood on the outside smiling, craving to be chosen and drawn in. Tern eyed them stonily. “That’s just the beginning. Next time, when word gets around, there’ll be crowds.”
“Look,” said Lightning urgently. “Be careful of those ladies. You need to learn how to discourage them.”
“Have fun,” I said vaguely. He could choose a different gold digger every night; no need for whores.
Tern snorted. “Seduction’s their job, Wrenn,” she warned. “They’ve studied it. If you give them an opportunity they’ll eat you alive. They will try anything to marry into the Circle.”
“They only want immortality,” Lightning added. “Don’t wed the first one you meet just because she shows interest in you. You should wait for one who loves you for yourself.”
The eldest girl was about twenty and she had a driven look that no makeup could mask. She was hungry for the chance to peel away from her rivals and address Wrenn alone; a social climber eager to find footholds in the flaws of his character. An expert seductress, Eszai-good, if there had been a place in the Circle for seduction. She had started young and become an expert in her teens. Well, that kind of dedication was necessary to win the ultimate prize.
Tern wagged her finger at the Swordsman. “For god’s sake don’t tell them anything. You’ll be reading it in the gossip columns for the next six months.” She smiled and I pulled her closer. She instinctively knows how to flirt with anyone. The problem with having a trophy wife is that you have to keep rewinning the trophy.
“There is Tornado,” Lightning said. “Wrenn, come and let me introduce you to the Circle’s Strongman.” Wrenn found himself shepherded expertly between the dancers, who turned to glimpse him at every step, so he was always the center of a space surrounded with people, all smiles and for the most part slightly taller than him.
“That golden boy is going to get his orange juice spiked if he’s not careful,” I muttered.
Tern giggled and curtsied. “May I have this dance?”
We danced. Her hand draped on my whipcord upper arm. My hand clasped below her shoulder blade on the silk, basquewired like a lampshade. My lace shirt cuffs hid my fingerless gloves. She followed my steps in quick time like a snappy reflection. We had practiced this; we felt good. I felt great, only Tern can keep up with me when I go so swiftly. And underneath all her clothes she’s naked. She was giddy already from the room spinning about us. All those faces. Our bodies together, shoulders apart; my hips rubbed just above her waist. “I’ll lead, you can spin.”
“Easy!” Her skirt twirled; she was laughing.
The music ended; Tern leaned forward, hands on knees, little cleavage in danger of escaping. “Oh, Jant,” she said breathlessly in her carnal voice. I rubbed my cheek on her cheek and kissed her eyelids. I kissed her lips, and deeply her mouth.
We were still snogging when Mist Ata appeared and nodded curtly. She carried a candle in a holder and her forehead was creased with worry. “Jant, come with me.”
“Later, Mist,” I murmured.
“This can’t wait any longer.”
I disentangled myself from Tern and placed a finger on her nose. “Soon,” I promised.
“Soon,” she repeated, as if from a distance.
I followed the Sailor. “You were brave to ask San for leave,” she said. “Mind you, I could tell you needed a holiday.”
“I was improving my flying. And besides, no one else ever goes to Darkling so I bring back news for the Emperor.”
“Yeah, right. Lucky, lucky; I haven’t had any leave for five hundred years.”
At the quiet end of the hall Lightning waited by the camera obscura, leaning against the door with his big arms folded. Mist beckoned us inside.
“Oh, so you found a hiding place to avoid Wrenn’s questions?” I said.
Mist replied, “Jant, you don’t even know the
The camera obscura was a tiny, black-painted room with a pinhole in the door that shone a circular image of the hall onto the far wall. The entire party was pictured inverted there-minutely detailed figures crossing the lit screen. I examined it. There was the tiny piano and musicians upside down. Miniature people waltzed past a section of the long trestle table. A blurred servant trudged behind them with a leather blackjack jug. I squinted to see the Emperor below the sun shield in the center. I spotted Tern; she was talking animatedly to someone whose image stepped forward onto the screen. I contorted trying to view them the right way up. It was Tornado, an unmistakable giant of a man. Tern put her hands up to his chest. He bent down; she kissed him lightly on the cheek. His hands embraced her hips, far too closely in my opinion, and together they danced off the edge of the projection.
Oh, no. I wanted to run straight to Tern, but Mist blocked the doorway, setting her candle on the floor. Her shadow hid the screen.
“Can we get this over with?” I said, annoyed. I craned to see the figures now dancing on Mist’s blouse and face. My wife was out there, chasseing with a man who had enough muscle in one bicep to make three warriors.
Lightning said, “At least choose a more comfortable lair for your conspiracies.”
Mist said, “Jant, what would you say if a land existed far out in the sea about which the Empire knows nothing?”
“I’d say that if you want philosophical debate in a stuffy cupboard you can ask another Eszai. It’s not like me to
