With florid sweeps of her quill, Orchid was writing the draft. “Tomorrow, right? When’ll it be?”
“I had thought at eleven.”
“I’ll be there, Patera.” Orchid’s face hardened. “We all will.”
Silk was still shaking his head as he closed Orchid’s door behind him. Chenille was waiting in the hall outside; he wondered whether she had been eavesdropping, and if so how much she had heard.
She said, “You wanted to talk to me?”
“Not here.”
“I waited in my room. You never came, so I came over here to see what was up.”
“Of course.” Orchid’s draft for a hundred cards was still in his hand; he folded it once and thrust it into the the pocket of his robe. “I told you I’d be there in a few minutes, didn’t I? We were a great deal longer than that, I’m afraid. I can only apologize.”
“You still want to talk in my room?”
Silk hesitated, then nodded. “We must speak privately, and I’d like to see where it is.”
SUMMONED
“What Orchid’s got used to be for the owner and his wife,” Chenille explained. “Then their sprats had rooms close to theirs, then upper servants, then maids, I guess. I’m about halfway on the inside. That’s not so bad.”
Turning left, Silk followed her down the musty hallway.
“Half look out on the court like mine does. That’s not as good as it sounds, because they have big parties in there sometimes and it gets pretty noisy unless you stay till the end, and usually I don’t. You take those drunks up to your room and they get sick—then you never get the smell out. Maybe you think it’s gone, but wait for a rainy night.”
They turned the corner.
“Sometimes they chase the girls along the gangways and make lots of noise. But the outside rooms on this side have windows on the alley. There’s not much light, and it smells bad.”
“I see,” Silk said.
“So that’s not so good either, and they have to have bars on their windows. I’d rather hang on to what I’ve got.” Chenille halted, pulled a key on a string from between ample breasts, and opened a door.
“Are the rooms beyond yours vacant?”
“Huh-uh. I don’t think there’s an empty room in the place. She’s been turning them away for the last month or so. I’ve got a girlfriend that would like to move in, and I’ve got to tell her as soon as somebody goes.”
“Perhaps she might occupy Orpine’s room.” Chenille’s was less than half the size of Orchid’s bedroom, with most of its floorspace taken up by an oversized bed. There were chests along the wall, and an old wardrobe to which a hasp and padlock had been added.
“Yeah. Maybe. I’ll tell her. You want me to leave the door open?”
“I doubt that it would be wise.”
“All right.” She closed it. “I won’t lock us in. I don’t lock when there’s a man in here, it’s not a good idea. You want to sit on the bed with me?”
Silk shook his head.
“Suit yourself.” She sat down, and he lowered himself gratefully onto one of the chests, the lioness-headed stick clamped between his knees.
“All right, what is it?”
Silk glanced toward the open window. “I should imagine it would be easy for someone to stand there on the gallery, just out of sight. It would be prudent for you to make sure no one is.”
“Look here.” She aimed a finger at him. “I don’t owe you one single thing, and you’re not paying me, not even a couple bits. Orpine was kind of a friend of mine, we didn’t fight much, anyhow, and I thought it was nice, what you did for her, so when you said you wanted to talk to me, I said fine. But I’ve got things to do, and I’ll have to come back here tonight and sweat it like a sow. So talk, and I better like what you’re going to say.”
“What would you do if you didn’t, Chenille?” Silk asked mildly. “Stab me? I don’t think so; you’ve no dagger now.”
Her brightly painted mouth fell open then clamped shut again.
Silk leaned back against the wall. “It wasn’t terribly obscure. If the Civil Guard had been notified, as I suppose it should have been, I’m certain they would have understood what happened at once. It took me a minute or two, but then I know very little about such things.”
Her eyes blazed. “She did it herself! You saw it. She stabbed herself.” Chenille gestured toward her own waist.
“I saw her hand on the hilt of your dagger, certainly. Did you put it there? Or was it only that she was trying to pull it out when she died?”
“You can’t prove anything!”
Silk sighed. “Please don’t be foolish. How old are you? Honestly now.”
