StarCrossed. Part 8

"Father has a miniature."

Well, if she was shy, I wasn't. I grabbed her arm and tugged her in Lord Daul's direction, over her protests. And then I saw someone I knew, and stopped so suddenly I nearly yanked Meri's arm right out of its socket.

A delicate beauty had stepped down from one of the wagons, and was lowering the hood on her sable coat to expose a crown of pale hair dressed a little too elegantly, fair cheeks tinged mountain-air pink, light eyes glittering like opals. Even among all the colorful band, I saw her. Everyone saw her. That was her whole point.

Marlytt Villatiere, notorious Gersin courtesan. It wasn't as if we mixed in the same circles, if we could help it, but we'd b.u.mped into each other now and again. She was no better bred than I was, but her beauty had propelled her to the top of Gerse society as a concubine to anyone who would keep her, and her list of patrons was reputed to be as long as King Bardolph's list of enemies. I knew her, rather crudely, as Marlytt Doskin - "Everybody's Marlytt."

Marlytt hung on the arm of a rotund young n.o.b in a studded black doublet straining at its laces. The obvious delight and surprise on his face eliminated him as Marlytt's "companion" here; I wondered if she'd recently become unattached, and some natural instinct had drawn her to a house bursting full of n.o.blemen, like a bee to a flowerpot. Behind them, an older woman, narrow and pinched-faced and elegant, gave no effort to hide her disdain.

Marlytt stopped directly in front of us, and her gloved fingers flew to her mouth as she looked at me. "By the G.o.ds, I don't believe it!" We stared each other down for the briefest of moments. "Oh, it's been so long," she fumbled, stalling. She clearly didn't know what to call me, since she only knew me by my street name. Fortunately Phandre came to our rescue.

"Oh, don't tell me you know our Celyn," she said, a note of irritation in her voice. "You'll be forgiven for not recognizing her; the local climate has done wonders for her."

Marlytt smiled thinly, but I read curiosity and puzzlement in her eyes. "Oh, no, our girl is unmistakable."

"How - how do you know Celyn?" Meri asked, and I was impressed. Most people are hard pressed to manage two words together when meeting Marlytt, let alone a whole sentence.

"I do believe that's a story for her to tell," she said. "But we have much to catch up on . . . Celyn and I." She curled her fingers over mine; they were cold even through the leather of her gloves. "Come see me later, won't you? I'm staying upstairs." With a wink, she moved on.

"Well, aren't you full of surprises," Phandre snapped at me.

She had no idea.

"How do you know her?"

I shrugged. "From the city. I used to see her . . . sometimes." And she had a history with Tegen, which I was not about to mention.

There was no immediate opportunity to work out what Marlytt's presence at Bryn Shaer might mean for me, for at just that moment, Lady Lyll swept over with the lean Lord Daul.

"Lyllace, beloved, don't tell me this perfect jewel is Antoch's own!" Lord Daul gave Meri an appraising look. "Lady Merista," he said gravely as if speaking to a child, "you won't know me, but I am your uncle, of sorts. Your father and I were boyhood friends."

Meri blushed and mumbled something into her bodice. Daul quirked an eyebrow at Lady Lyll. "Retiring? Where does she come by that trait, I wonder?"

I wasn't sure what he was implying, but I decided I didn't like it. I stepped forward. "Lord Daul, Lady Merista tells us you're a lunarist."

Daul looked at me with as much surprise as if the very floor had started speaking to him. Lady Lyll hooked her arm into his. "Oh, yes - Remy, we're counting on you to entertain us all with your soothsaying."

"Indeed," he said. "I believe I'll be able to tell all your fortunes tonight." He slipped his arm through Meri's. "Lady Merista, I do look forward to getting to know my brother's family once again. Will you do me the honor of showing me around this splendid home?" Lord Daul and Lady Lyll swept Meri away. I looked around; Phandre was still latched on to the unsuspecting wine merchant.

Fair enough; I wanted some candied plums anyway.

Meri's maids were not required in attendance at dinner that night, since the family was having a private meal with Lord Daul, so I ducked away to find Marlytt. Upstairs. It was a euphemism, meant for anybody within hearing to know Marlytt wasn't ashamed of her position. Her presence at Bryn Shaer could complicate things for me, but the least little side of me was glad to see her - we hadn't been friends, precisely, but at least we could understand each other.

I took the servant's stair, but Marlytt had apparently had the same idea, for I met her on the stairs.

"Digger! You startled me!" She clapped a slender hand to her chest. She was dressed in a loose robe of berry-red velvet, touched at the neckline with Vareni lace that must have cost a fortune. A gift, no doubt, from some besotted client. "What are you doing here? Is Tegen here?"

A dark feeling pierced my breast, but I didn't linger to see whether it was grief, or jealousy, or something of both. "He's dead. Greenmen." It was the first time I'd said those words, and they tasted bitter on my tongue. I sketched out the job at Chavel's, briefly, sparing the details only to spare myself the need to relive them. It certainly wasn't for Marlytt's benefit.

A shadow crossed her pale face. "I'm sorry, I know you cared for him. Still, I hadn't figured you for a runner. I thought you'd be the type to stay and fight."

And I had nothing at all to say to that.

"So what are you planning? Are you here on a job?"

I shook my head and explained how Durrel Decath had whisked me to safety. The story seemed to delight her. "You should have stayed with him," she said. "He sounds like quite the prize."

"Too young for you, I think."

She ignored that. "And now what? Be Merista Nemair's lady-in-waiting for the rest of your life?"

"Until spring, at least. Until it's safe to go back to Gerse." If that ever happened. Marlytt leaned back against the curving stairwell wall, and I thought of something. "Listen - you speak Corles, don't you?"

"Of course. Why?"

"I need you to read something for me." I pulled a crumpled packet of papers from my bodice and handed them to her. Chavel's letters had been rubbing a sore spot in my side for long enough. It was time to finally suss them out.

"I'm sure your Lady Merista reads Corles," she said, flipping through them. "Why didn't you - oh. Oh. Digger! Where did these come from? Is that blood?"

I pulled in closer. "What do they say?"

Her brows knitted together. "Well, this one is a letter from Secretary Chavel to someone called Vichet, asking if their interests in Corlesanne are being well tended. Do you know what that means?" When I shook my head, she continued. "He wants to know if Vichet has heard from their friends in Varenzia. I don't know. It's just a letter." She slipped the next page forward. "I have no idea what this is." She showed it to me, two meaningless columns of numbers and letters. "A betting book? Some kind of inventory? I can't tell.

"But this one -" Marlytt held out the last letter, and her hand was shaking. "Digger, this looks like a translation of some kind of warrant."

"Warrant? For what?"

She looked at me, and her pale eyes were as wide as the moons. "A price on Prince Wierolf's head. Five thousand sovereigns. And it's signed by the king."

CHAPTER TEN.

Late the next afternoon, I was changing Meri out of her plain kirtle into her evening dress. It had been gray and dull all day, thunder rumbling in the distance. Phandre had heard from her servant friend Ludo that it was snowing down the Gerse road, the storm on its way toward Bryn Shaer. Meri opened her clothes chest and drew out an armful of frothy, ale-gold silk. "Here," she said, smiling broadly, and thrust it into my arms.

"What is it?" I said crossly. "Do you want to wear something different?" We had spent the afternoon doing needlework in the solar, and I had stuck my fingers so many times with my needle I was going to lose all credibility as a nimble-fingered thief.

"Better," Meri said. "You're coming to the feast tonight, and you should look pretty."

"Fat chance there."

Meri's face fell. "I wish you wouldn't," she said, tugging at her hair. In a few weeks' time, that waist-length fall of black would be bound up as she was paraded past the marriage market, and n.o.body would see it again until after her wedding. Poor Meri; she couldn't stand to see anybody unhappy. I sighed and shook out the fabric.

Which revealed itself as a court gown - not one of Meri's little-girl dresses, made over for my size, but a heavy, stately confection of silk brocade that changed from silver to gold in the light, the sleeves and bodice trimmed in strands of pearls, amber, and tiny glittering silver beads. This was a delicious thing, far nicer than anything I'd ever worn, even when Tegen and I would raid his theater friends' wardrobes for clothes to sneak into n.o.b Circle houses. This was a real gown, meant for wear on public display, laced so tight I would never be able to breathe or sit properly, let alone spend the evening scampering over rooftops or sparring in the street.

"It's beautiful," I said quietly. "Where did you find it?"

"We made it," Meri said. "Mother and I."

"You made this? When?"

"Mostly at night, after you'd gone to sleep. You sleep so soundly, you never notice. Mother did the beadwork. It wasn't that hard," she added modestly.

"I'm sure," I said - at a loss for what I really wanted to say.

She smiled. "I'll teach you. It's something you should know, anyway, if you're going to become 'an accomplished chatelaine.' " Her voice deepened into a fair imitation of her mother, and in a moment we were both smiling.

I traced my finger along one beaded vine. My nails were starting to grow out, but the chill air of the castle was making my skin dry. Thieves keep their hands in good condition, so they can slip in and out of silk purses without snagging. I'd been pa.s.sing for merchant-cla.s.s pretty well in Meri's castoffs. Maybe in this thing I'd look like I really belonged in this castle.

And did I want that?

The banquet that evening was the first formal event that gathered all of Bryn Shaer's guests together, a chance to welcome Lord Daul as an honored member of the family and to formally present Meri to the a.s.semblage. We gathered in the Round Court, the tables arranged in a ring along the curving golden walls, the domed ceiling lit by dozens of flickering candles.

Meri sat at the high table, stiff in red velvet and gold, between Daul and her father. Her silver necklaces caught the candlelight from the high iron chandeliers and flashed winking lights against her pale face.

It was the perfect night to drive us all inside; the heavy sky had finally resigned itself to rain - an ugly, sleety mess that made the roaring fire very welcome. I fingered the beaded trim of my bodice. Tart me up like a lady-in-waiting, but I was still just a street thief from Gerse at heart, counting the rings on my neighbors' fingers, the exits in the room. Who had the most valuable jewelry, whose purse seemed the plumpest? What was the quickest way to the courtyard, the roof, the wall? The old lady I was seated with had an elaborate coronet of jet and ruby. I wanted it, and I spent half the soup course working out just how I might twist it from her snow-white hair without her noticing.

"Sparkling Grisel? It's a very fine vintage, coaxed from Count Grisel's own private collection at great personal cost. I'd be wounded if you didn't try it."

On my other side was the merchant, Eptin Cwalo. Having no particular desire to wound the man, I lifted my gla.s.s, and spent the rest of the meal learning all about his sons: five worthy lads, plus Garod, son number two, over whose dubious future Mistress Cwalo apparently despaired. I quite liked the sound of Garod, actually, and amused myself by imagining Lady Lyllace's reaction to my announcement of such a match. Cwalo appeared to take a liking to me. It must have been a combination of our common merchant heritage (his was presumably authentic), and our common size: He seemed pleased that I was actually shorter than he was. I let him fill my gla.s.s a little more often than was wise.

After the meal, Lord Antoch rose and clapped for attention. "My good gentles, friends and countrymen all, be you welcome to Bryn Shaer, the Bear's Keep! Our home is new, built on this ancient ground, and we are honored to receive your company at this blessed time for our family, when our beloved daughter is preparing to make her kernja-velde, and enter society as a young woman."

Light applause and cries of "huzzah!" greeted this toast. Antoch continued: "We are doubly blessed at Bryn Shaer this day, for tonight we welcome back to our family one who has been absent far too long: the brother of my heart, Remy Daul. Lord Remy is known to you all, I believe, so we shall not belabor the introductions, but to say that he has brought a host gift to share with us all: an offer to display his skills at lunarism for our amus.e.m.e.nt and edification here tonight. Brother?"

Lord Daul rose, looking slender as a blade beside Antoch's bulk, and bowed low to the crowd. "Milord, you do me too great an honor. I am the one blessed, to be reunited with such august company after all my trials. I feel quite the lost sheep returned to the fold, after time amongst the wolves."

"What's he mean?" I whispered to Cwalo, but my companion didn't seem to hear. Lord Daul kissed the hands of Meri and Lady Lyll and climbed down from the high table. During the speeches, servants had brought out a small table covered in a gray velvet cloth and set with the charts and paraphernalia of the moon-casting. Daul took his seat and bowed his head briefly in meditation.

I had seen this done before, of course, though not at such high scales. The back table at every tavern in the Seventh Circle had a resident lunarist - some of them mere scam artists, some with a genuine . . . well, I'd seen a few things I couldn't explain. But the one thing all of them were after - fair or foul - was coin. It was officially frowned upon, since foreknowledge of the future was a trait ascribed to Sar alone, but popular lunarists generally escaped persecution. Even Bardolph was said to have one resident at court.

Suddenly a ma.s.sive crack of thunder shook the Round Court, making everyone jump. When it had faded, Lord Daul let out a quick laugh. "They do quite set the mood for us, don't they?" The chandeliers swung a little, making wolfish shadows on his lean face. "Friends," he said in a low voice that slipped through the hall like a serpent, "who will be first to learn what the moons have in store for us? Lady Cardom?"

"Indeed, no," the woman beside me said, but there was a touch of gay color in her cheeks. "I'm too old for such fancies. I know what my future will bring, young man."

The room erupted in laughter, and Daul inclined his head. "Perhaps her flourishing son?"

"Not me." The fat n.o.b who had arrived with Marlytt gave a good-hearted laugh. "I like surprises."

"Come, come - someone must be brave enough to glimpse what the G.o.ds are planning?" Lord Daul swung his gaze slowly through the crowd until he came to rest on Meri. "My lord brother, will you permit me the honor to read the charts for your lady daughter? Since I missed the opportunity to do so at her birth?"

Meri, her color high, turned to Antoch. Her father gave his smiling approval, and she bounded down from the high table. She curtsied very prettily to her foster uncle, then tucked herself at the small table, bending studiously over the charts.

"What do I do?" she said, sounding a little breathless.

"When is your birthday, my dear?"

"The twelfth of next month," Meri said.

"Ah," Daul said. "Very auspicious. The Dead of Winter falls on your birthday this year." The Dead of Winter was a solemn holy day, the full moon of Marau that fell closest to midwinter. Meri's eyes widened as Daul continued, "And, of course, this is a very significant year for you." He cast the stones onto the chart on the table. "Be aware, I tell only what I see, and I cannot be responsible for any shadows the G.o.ds have cast upon you."

My thoughts drifted; I was interested less in the future Lord Antoch's bosom friend was predicting for his daughter, and more in the gold strap he wore around his leg. He sat at an angle to me that gave me a clear view of it. It had a clasp that could easily be undone with one finger, but it was a snug fit, to keep from slipping off. There was a design stamped into the metal, and I wanted a better look at it.

I'd give it back, of course. I just wanted to see it. And somehow I didn't think asking for a close examination of Lord Daul's thigh would go over well in this company. Maybe Phandre could get it for me; she knew her way around a few lords' thighs, or so I'd heard. I felt a giggle bubble up inside me, and I took another sip of Cwalo's very fine sparkling Grisel.

A peal of applause rippled through the room, and I heard Meri's chair sc.r.a.pe back. "I thank you, milord," she said in her soft voice. "Who shall I send next?"

I glanced up just in time to see Lord Daul beckoning me closer with a narrow finger. "Lady Celyn, do us the honor?"

Ask me twice. I bounced up from my seat beside Lady Cardom, reminding myself to be dignified as I crossed the floor. At the tiny table, I gave a gracious curtsy and settled onto the little stool.

Lord Daul poured the colored stones into my cupped hands. There were seven of them, all different sizes, and the chart on the table was a map of the heavens, with all the moons plotted in their courses through the sky. The stones weren't valuable - just bits of polished agate and marble - and besides, he'd probably notice right quickly if they disappeared from his set.

"Lay the stone of Celys on the date of your birth," he instructed me.

Whereupon we had a problem, since I could no more account for my birth date than I could for my nonexistent mother and father. I hesitated too long.

"Milady does not know when she was born?" he asked. His voice was playful, and everyone laughed. I stole a desperate glance at Marlytt, but she was deep in conversation with Lord Cardom. I was about to put the stone somewhere entirely at random when Daul said, "Methinks you were born under the watch of Tiboran."

My hand stilled in the air and I met his eyes, but there was nothing there but amus.e.m.e.nt. All right, I could play that game too.

"No, milord is mistaken," I said gaily, or tried, anyway. "I was born in the summer." And plopped the green marble right down in the middle of the month of Celys. It was close enough.

"Milady perhaps exaggerates her age? I would not have guessed you to be quite . . . forty-three, Lady Celyn."

Pox. "Lady Lyllace makes a most excellent salve for wrinkles," I said, to another round of laughter. Tiboran was in high humor tonight; I wasn't usually so good with a crowd. I found the date for sixteen years ago and shoved the stone into place, leaning low across the table, exposing every thing I had to Daul's view - and giving me easy reach of him: his belt, his purse, the gold band he wore on his leg.

Daul spread his hands across the parchment, and the stones seemed to bobble and float away from his touch. A sharp's trick - I saw no magic spark for him, and he wore no silver - just simple sleight of hand that any well-trained Gerse thief could mimic.

"Ah," Daul intoned significantly. I leaned in closer still, as if fascinated by the mysteries he was about to reveal. My gaze stayed on his face, though the hand that was supposed to be folded demurely in my lap edged closer to Daul's leg band. Gray fringe from the tablecloth brushed my sleeve. "The shape of your past is cloudy," he said. "There are shadows crossing lines, and I cannot see past them."

"Nonsense!" I said. "I'm as cloudy as a summer day. Tell me what else you see." My fingers came to rest, ever so lightly, against the spring of gold.

"I see your brother is a very powerful man."

My hand jerked, and I felt Daul flinch. d.a.m.n.

"Not so powerful," I said tartly - and loudly. "He couldn't even get nuns to hold on to me!"

The audience laughed again, and I pulled my hand back, easy, easily. . . .

He slapped me. Under the table, fingertips to the back of my wrist. The look on his face shifted to sharp awareness as he met my eyes, and then back again as smoothly as a moon disappearing behind fog. "Well, I think it's as well that someone should look after you, Lady Celyn," he said. "There is a darkness looming in your future, I'm afraid. As well as a new a.s.sociation."