foot. He noticed her unshod feet for the first time since they d gotten out of the temple legs still mud-splattered and streaked from the river. Hard to see if there was blood. Her lips pressed together as she saw him looking. Panic in her eyes once more.
I m fine, she jittered. I can walk, I m fine.
What s your name? he asked her gently.
They call me Nil.
Good enough. He glanced up at the sky. Well listen, Nil, we have to hurry here. I want to get you off the street before daybreak. Last stretch, just stay with me. Can you do that?
A tight nod.
Let s go, then.
Up through the gently shelving streets toward the Palace Quarter, and despite her limp, Nil was as good as her word. She kept to his pace better than some imperial levy recruits he d been saddled with in the past. He felt the tension in him begin to ease as they climbed. The higher up the hill you got, the better the neighborhood and the less chance you d end up in any kind of trouble. Up here, the militia patrols were frequent and well disciplined, not likely to be hitting you up for bribes or favors. Citizens and slaves went about their business with assurance. And any criminals on the prowl would be smart, would have well-planned agendas that didn t include getting into random street squabbles.
Long and short of it anyone they met on these immaculately maintained thoroughfares was going to have better things to do than gawk at or otherwise involve themselves with some passing Majak freebooter and his concubine.
So they hit Harbor Hill Rise without incident. Made it all the way to the mansion with the mosaic dome cupola, having seen no more than half a dozen hurrying servants and a couple of doorway-hugging war-wounded beggars who d somehow avoided being shooed and shoved back down the hill the night before. They found the mansion s servant entry, and Egar took a moment to square away the last of his vague misgivings.
Then he reached up and tugged at the bellpull.
The chimes chased each other away. Long delay, while voices and footfalls went back and forth behind the wall. He was half tempted to smear a couple of leaping steps up the white stone, grab the black iron spikes at the top, and vault over, wounds or no wounds. It wouldn t have been the first time but under the circumstances
He waited.
Finally, a slat opened at head height in the dark wood paneling of the door. Eyes peered out.
Yes?
Brinag?
He s busy in the cellar. And we don t pay anyone till end of month, so if you re here to settle accounts, forget it. What do you want?
Egar gave the watching eyes a grim smile. What I want is for you to tell Brinag that Egar the Dragonbane is outside, and he d better get this door open before I kick it in for you.
Shocked silence. A pair of heartbeats.
Uhm yes, my lord. Yes, I ll There is, my lord, the main gate. If you had only
Just go and get him.
Yes, my lord.
The slave hurried off, forgot to close the slat before he went. Egar glanced at Nil, who was sagging at his side.
Not long now, he murmured.
Brinag came bustling up, checked Egar through the slat, and unbolted the door. He ushered them inside, cupping a candle aside with one hand. Checked the street and closed the door, leaned his back against it. Cleared his throat with mannered eunuch delicacy.
My lord, this is really not an ideal time to be calling. As you re no doubt aware
Is he in, though?
No, my lord.
And she is?
Brinag sighed. Yes, my lord.
What I thought. You d better take me to her, then.
Very well. The eunuch cast a cold eye over Nil.
And this is?
A gift, Egar told him succinctly. Brin, we re wasting time.
In the glow from the candle, the look on the eunuch s face said he thought that was the least of their problems. But he made no further comment. He led them through the ornamental herb garden and up the decorative iron spiral staircase into the kitchens. Through the high-ceilinged spaces within, up more stairs and along the tastefully tapes-tried and carpeted corridors of the upper levels, toward the seaward wing of the house. Brinag nodding curtly at slaves and servants along the way, trading at one point his candle for a lantern.
If this visit comes to light, he muttered, then
Then I got in over the wall somehow. Just another Majak harem marauder, and you don t know anything about it. Same as it ever was. Can you trust these people?
I can trust them not to want whipping within an inch of their lives, Brinag said sourly. I suppose that will have to do.
He led them to the chief bedchamber. No surprises there, Imrana wasn t an early riser at the best of times, and dawn was still a way off. Back in the tavern, Egar would have put his whole purse on her being right here in this room. He wouldn t have bet quite as much on Knight Commander Saril Ashant s whereabouts, but he knew enough of the relationship to spit and hope for marital absence. It wasn t exactly the worst risk he d ever taken.
Brinag knocked apologetically at the chamber doors, held up a hand for quiet, waited, knocked again. Waited. Knocked louder.
A muffled, moaning volley of curses from within the chamber. The eunuch tipped a bleak glance at Egar. He eased one door open a crack and slipped through the gap. Twisted about, held up a forbidding finger.
Wait here.
The door closed with a tight snap, leaving them in the gloom. Murmur of voices beyond, first Brin s and then the sleepy-toned responses, growing louder and less sleepy by the word. Egar grimaced. Then conversation stopped, caught up on some jag of angry disbelief. Long quiet, then another murmur. Brin s footfalls back to the door. The door opened and the eunuch slipped back out. He surveyed the two of them, deadpan.
The Lady Imrana will see you now, he said.
Please go through.
She was off the bed and tucking herself tight in a linen robe as they walked in. The Lady Imrana Nemaldath Amdarian, long black hair in comely disarray, the face it framed hard-boned and harsh, even in the kindly light of the lamps Brinag had lit for her before he came out. It took the softening effect of all the cosmetics she would later layer on to ease the command in that face, to make it into something more appropriately womanly, something more appropriate, Egar always thought, to how she was below the neck. Imrana was voluptuous by Yhelteth standards, despite the advancing years, breasts full and heavy in the tight-wrapped folds of the robe, tilt and curve of generous hips as she stalked barefoot across the tiles toward him. And with the anger marked on her face like that, scarlet spots burning at each cheekbone, man, he could feel a want for her coming on stronger than
Are you fucking deranged, Egar? The obscenity, there in her mannered mouth like a plum. As ever, it made him hard just hearing that urbane, throaty courtier voice rolling out language fit for a Skaranak milkmaid. Are you out of your fucking mind ? Coming here like this?
Imrana, listen
I said a fortnight! Is that so hard to get through your thick Majak skull? He s still here, he s still on fucking furlough!
Not in this bed, though. Egar, stung by the epithet Majak. She d never used it on him before outside of pillow play. Didn t take him long to burn through his marital obligations and take his business elsewhere, did it? Which brothel do you reckon it was this time?
It stopped her like a slap. She breathed in, hard enough that he saw her fine aristo nostrils pinch with it.
