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Temar explained as briefly as he could while the Relict’s eyes grew round with astonishment.
“Vahil, Sieur Den Ra
And these modern nobles see no higher duty beyond conserving their coffers of gold, thought Temar sourly.
“How do we request such things without causing offence?” Avila asked hesitantly. “If we are seen as making some improper request—”
“You certainly need to be discreet.” The Relict looked pensive. “Would you be willing to make fair recompense?”
Avila shared a grimace with Temar. “Kel Ar’Ayen is a rich land but more in resources than minted metal.”
“But Camarl will be spending his Festival arranging the very best returns for your trade,” Dirindal encouraged them both. “That’ll soon bring the coin in. The first thing is to find these things you’re seeking. You don’t want to risk an approach until you’re certain where some piece is.”
Temar sat up straight. “I have an idea about that. Heirloom jewels are often shown in portraits, Avila.”
Dirindal nodded. “Indeed they are.”
“If we visit families we believe hold artefacts, we might be able to find them in their paintings,” Temar explained. The uncertainty shadowing Avila’s eyes lifted slightly.
“Let’s see what invitations you and I can accept together over the next few days, my dear.” Dirindal patted Avila’s knee. “At my age, I know everyone. No one will think anything of me showing you round a House’s gallery, to explain dealings between the Names in the generations you’ve missed.” She held up a forefinger. “Let’s find Cha
She got to her feet with a little puff of exertion and Temar hastily offered his arm. Dirindal waved him away with a smile. “No need, my dear.” She rustled ahead of them, small feet in high-heeled shoes tapping on the terrace.
“Who’s this Lady Cha
“She’s the Sieur’s paramour.” Colour rose on Avila’s sharp cheekbones. “But it’s not the same as in our day. She’s a Den Veneta with widow’s rank in her own right. She and the Sieur don’t marry for inheritance reasons but they’ve been acknowledged lovers for years. She has her own apartments at the D’Olbriot residence and acts as his hostess for things like this. Don’t make a fool of yourself when you’re introduced.”
“And this isn’t scandal to set the ashes of the dead rattling their urns?” gaped Temar. “And have you seen that painting of the Maitresse Tor Kanselin?”
“And several others just as startling.” Avila fixed Temar with a steely gaze. “We must take the realities of this new order as we find them, my lad. Refusing to acknowledge a truth that’s biting your ankles has always hampered you.”
She shook off his hand and Temar watched her go with rising a
The music ended with a flourish and muted conversation burst into renewed life on all sides. Temar realised he was the focus of covert attention from more than one group of giggling girls and lifted his chin in defiance.
One maiden, bolder than her companions, moved closer and, catching Temar’s eye, made a low curtsey, her cerise dress whispering on the woven matting. “The musicians are very fine, don’t you agree, Esquire?”
“Most pleasing,” he smiled hopefully at her.
“Do you prefer the traditional style or the more Rational composers,” she asked artlessly, but her eyes were sly behind a fan of frivolous magenta plumes.
“I know nothing of either mode, Demoiselle, so am unable to judge.” Whatever game she had in mind, Temar wasn’t about to play it.
The girl looked disappointed before tossing her head with elaborate unconcern. “No matter.” She turned a dismissive shoulder on Temar, returning to her friends without acknowledging his bow.
He gritted his teeth, seeing expressions of faint derision pass between the girls. He hardly had time for music lessons, not with everything else he was supposed to accomplish in these scant five days. Were there any familiar faces in this room? Did he know anyone here who might help him achieve something to equal Avila’s undoubted successes?
As he looked round the room a knot of girls in a far corner drifted apart for a moment and Temar was surprised to see a familiar face. It took him a moment to place the little mage girl from Bremilayne; Allin, that was her name. He frowned. She had her back to the wall while the other girls pressed round, faces clearly malicious. Temar feared the mage girl was close to tears, face scarlet and hands pleating the front of what even he could tell was a hopelessly unfashionable gown. He made his way though the busy room and arrived without attracting undue attention.
“We were surprised to see you here,” one girl was saying sweetly.
“But you could hardly expect to go u
“I don’t know how these things are done in Lescar,” began another, and from the contempt in her voice she clearly had no wish to know. “But here it’s accepted that wizards leave the concerns of the Names well alone.”
“My father only hopes D’Olbriot is making that clear to you people,” added the one who’d criticised Allin’s dress.
“No House would dream of meddling with Hadrumal’s affairs,” chipped in the first.
“My lady mage!” Temar put all the pleasure he could into his greeting. “How delightful to see you again.”
He bowed low and Allin managed an abrupt curtsey. “Esquire D’Alse
“Someone else who doesn’t know when he’s not wanted,” murmured one girl behind a canary yellow fan. A sudden lull in conversation all around left her words clearly audible.
Temar inclined his head at her. “You would be Demoiselle Den Thasnet?” A silver and enamel trefoil blossomed at her freckled neckline, twin to one the odious Firon had worn. “I recognise your House’s style.”
“You should be careful with that fan, Demoiselle,” Allin remarked. “You don’t want to get that dye on your gown.”
Satisfied to see the young women all disconcerted, even if he didn’t know why, Temar decided to leave before someone launched some jibe he’d no defence against. “Allin, shall we take some air?”
“Thank you, Esquire. It’s more than a little stale in here.” Allin took his arm and Temar escorted her out on to the nearest terrace. It turned out to be the western-facing one so there was little shade but the sun had spent the worst of its heat.
Allin fa
Temar wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Do not let them upset you.”
“I don’t,” snapped Allin.
Temar looked around the terrace. “What did you mean about that girl’s fan?” he asked after an awkward pause.