her instruments 02 - rose point (34 page)

“Lady, I am not set up to receive guests,” he said. “Indeed, you should not be here without a chaperone—”

“Oh so?” she said. “Shall I worry about a rumor of the two of us alone together? Would you wed me to save my reputation, if it was bruited about that you had ruined me?”

His skin stippled. “I assure you, Lady, I have no intention of setting a hand on you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, smiling. “I wouldn’t be disappointed if you did. Your pretty little Butterfly seemed so happy with you... that implies something about your ability to please a woman.”

Hearing her call Laiselin by her song-name made him flex his hands where they rested clasped behind his back. “Is there something I might do for you?”

“You turned down Jisiensire’s hospitality, so I had hopes that perhaps you were at liberty to seek new association,” Surela said. “And I might have found some way to entice you to consider the notion. I know you don’t like me, Hirianthial, but there would have been compensations. But now I hear there might be another reason you’re pretending to a cot in the priest’s quarters. Tell me it’s not true—that you are consorting with a mortal woman.”

“I beg your pardon?” Hirianthial said, startled, for she had shaded the word ‘consorting’ in the language’s crimson mode, which left its carnal meaning without doubt.

“Consorting,” she said again, advancing on him. “With a human. I know Liolesa’s keeping her in the palace. And you’ve been with her.”

“I pledge you, lady,” Hirianthial said dryly, “if I have been consorting with a human woman in the manner you are intimating, I would be as shocked as you to learn it.”

“So you deny it.”

“Denial presumes guilt,” Hirianthial said. “Shall I confess to a sin I have not committed?”

“At least you still think of it as a sin,” Surela said. “In public, anyway.” She stopped before him. “I would have welcomed you at my side before I knew you preferred the company of mortals to that of people. I am almost grateful to Liolesa for exposing this facet of your character to me.”

“I am entirely grateful if it has at last disabused you of the notion that I might have ever accepted your suit,” he said. “And it is said ‘the Queen,’ not ‘Liolesa’—by you, Lady.”

She smiled without humor. “Good night, Lord Hirianthial.”

He shut the door on her without returning the well-wishes and sat on the cot more abruptly than he’d planned as he realized just how close he’d come to disaster. God and Lady! The cheek of the woman, coming here alone and threatening to corral him into an unwanted union with a false accusation! He would be shaking with the chill of the adrenaline aftermath if he weren’t so distracted by the thought of how Reese would have reacted to Surela’s assumptions. Indignation, certainly. He smiled. Ah, but she would have ripped a strip off Surela’s hide for saying such things. He would have liked to see it.

“This is not underwear,” Reese growled. “This is a torture device.”

“This is a necessary part of a lady’s wardrobe,” Felith said, at work behind Reese’s back. Whatever she was doing involved the hissing sound of laces pulling through metal rings and constant tugging and tightening.

Irine, watching from the floor with her cheek in one palm, said, “Is this the kind that needs a set of ribs removed?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Reese said. Then, concerned, “Wait, is it?”

“Of course not, Lady. Surgery is too dangerous to risk for vanity.”

“They might not need it. For all we know they have fewer ribs than humans,” Kis’eh’t said. “Starting from a human template doesn’t mean they didn’t tinker with things like that.”

Irine wrinkled her nose. “Who would tinker with genetics just to make it easier to get into a corset?”

“Same people who thought junking all their technology when they got here was a good idea?” the Glaseah replied, dry.

“All right, you two, that’s enough,” Reese said—wheezed. It was getting hard to breathe. “Felith, is it supposed to be that tight?”

“It should be tighter yet. It’s wise to go in stages, however.” Felith leaned back. “Breathe up and down, Lady. Not in and out.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I think that thing’s going to make her even more short-tempered than she usually is,” Kis’eh’t observed.

“That should be okay,” Irine said. “She needs to be feisty, she’s got a hall full of bigots and racists to face.”

Reese covered her face. “Can we not make me nervous?”

“You will do excellently,” Felith said unexpectedly. Surprised, Reese looked over her shoulder, and the Eldritch met her eyes. “You will, Lady. You do not seem the sort to quail in the face of the contempt of others.”

“That’s Reese,” Kis’eh’t agreed. “The worser the odds, the harder she plays.”

“She’s stubborn,” Irine said with more pride than Reese would have thought the comment merited. It made her flush.

“Would that more of us had such virtues,” Felith said. “Perhaps we would not be in our current contretemps.” She leaned back. “There. How do you feel, Lady?”

“Like I’m going to faint,” Reese said, pressing her hand against her stomach. It resisted, so she knocked on it. “Blood, are you sure this is lingerie? It’s more like armor. Also, it’s digging into my hips, is that normal?”

“It is neither lingerie nor armor,” Felith said firmly. “It is an undergarment, and the best fit I could procure without more time. You are shorter in the torso than we are, so some pinching is inevitable until we have one made to your measure.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Reese muttered. “I need one of these permanently?”

“It’s an
undergarment
.”

“It’s a bother, and I’m not going to wear one any more than is strictly necessary,” Reese said. Or tried, anyway. It was more of a wheeze, given how little air she had. “So, I’m announced, and I go to the throne, about two-thirds of the way, and then I stop and curtsey—”

“That’s right.”

“And I hold it until she calls me up,” Reese said. She paused. “That sounds uncomfortable. What do men do?”

“Men bow and keep their heads down,” Felith said.

“That’s better,” Reese said. “I’ll do that. So she calls me—”

“You cannot bow like a man!” Felith exclaimed, scandalized. “You are a woman!”

“I’m a woman who will probably fall down if she has to hold a curtsey for longer than a second,” Reese said.

“Can you even bow with that thing on?” Kis’eh’t said.

Reese tried it, regretted the dizzy head it gave her. “Yes, from the hips. Ouch.”

“Do it more slowly,” Kis’eh’t said.

“Slowly, got it.” Reese turned back to Felith. “And then the dialogue starts—what? Felith? I’m not actually an Eldritch, remember? I’m already breaking a million customs by existing on this world, adding one more isn’t going to make much of a difference.”

Felith sighed. “And then the dialogue begins, and you answer as you have been coached. And then you bring forth the gifts.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go with you?” Irine asked. “We can carry the gifts for you. It will look more impressive, right?”

Reese didn’t understand the source of her discomfort, but it was a powerful one. “It would, but... I think one alien’s bad enough. Adding more of them seems like it would be pressing our luck.”

Irine and Kis’eh’t glanced at Felith, who said, “That is a fair point, I am afraid. Let the shock settle from the first event, and then the Queen will no doubt have your entourage formally introduced later in a more intimate court function, one more likely to be peopled with your allies.” She stepped back and studied Reese. “I will leave you to warm the fabric while I bring the seamstresses.”

“The what?” Reese asked.

“The seamstresses. The dress will have to be altered to suit you, Lady.”

Reese sighed. “I bet that’ll take all morning.”

“Yes,” Felith said. “But you will only have to stand for part of it. The rest of the time we will spend preparing. And by that I mean grooming you.” She eyed Reese. “I presume you understand what I mean by that.”

Thinking ruefully of her romance novels, Reese said, “I have a few ideas, yes.”

“Good,” Felith said, and excused herself.

“You could at least take Allacazam,” Irine said. “Call him a pillow, or an exotic animal or something. You should have some moral support, Reese. These aren’t nice people you’re going to be walking into the middle of.”

“If Hirianthial’s right, only half of them aren’t nice people,” Reese said. “The other half will be happy to see me.” She sat, wincing as the corset gouged her bones. Trying for a deep breath failed, so she settled for a long, shallow one. “It’s only a few hours, and then it will be done and we’ll be able to move on from here to whatever it is that’s next for us.” Before she could think better of it, she reached for their hands and took them. “Thanks for sticking it out with me.”

Irine hugged her, and Kis’eh’t squeezed her hand.

“While I’m gone, make sure Allacazam eats, all right?”

“We will,” Kis’eh’t promised, and rose. “And now I’ll leave you two to the primping process. I’ll go talk to Malia about sending down those extra gifts for the presentation.” She brushed off her forelegs. “I wish Pads could scoop you up from where you were. It would be much easier to go up to the
Earthrise
and get my sari myself than it’s going to be describing where it is to Malia.”

“Can you Pad a Pad someplace you don’t have one?” Irine wondered.

“I thought the Fleet people did that when they came over after the pirates,” Reese said, frowning. “But my memory of that situation’s bad.”

“If they did I bet it’s some special Fleet model the rest of us can’t get,” Kis’eh’t said. “I’m off. Maybe I can find some little jeweled box to put the cinnamon in.”

Irine set a hand on Reese’s arm once the Glaseah had gone. “It’s going to be all right, you know.”

Reese set her hand on Irine’s and petted the soft gold and black fur. “You think so?”

“You remember back on Harat-Sharii when you told us we were leaving early?”

“And you said you knew you weren’t coming back because it was your destiny, and Sascha’s,” Reese said. She looked up. “You think this is it?”

“I don’t know,” Irine said. “But taking on a closed world in need of renovation sure sounds like an epic undertaking to me.” She smiled. “Besides, even if the rest of the world doesn’t have marble stairwells carved with pretty girls and boys and lacy chandeliers, it still seems like a nice place to make a nest.”

Reese stared at her. “It’s cold.”

“You said yourself back when we were trying to decide where to go for our vacation that cold makes you want to cuddle under blankets and drink hot chocolate and tell stories,” Irine said. “I could see doing that with my kits.” She grinned. “Besides, we’re going to have heaters, remember?”

“When you put it that way...” Reese imagined it and smiled. “I think it would be nice to be Aunt Reese to a passel of Harat-Shar.”

Irine laughed. “You wouldn’t have said that a year ago!”

“A year ago I wasn’t who I am today,” Reese said. She breathed out carefully, feeling the bones of the corset flex. It was easy to blame it for her dizziness and pounding heart, but she knew better. She had always been so good at denying her own feelings, but her crew’s affection had worn her down, and the past year had almost entirely shattered her barriers against that intimacy. Now she could see the shape of her heart’s desire, and she wanted very much to look away before all the details were filled in and left her with no chance at all of turning back. “And I’m a little afraid of who I’m going to end up being.”

Irine lifted a hand and paused... then set it carefully on Reese’s cheek, curving soft fingers into her braids. “It’s going to be all right. We’ll be here to help you.”

Reese closed her eyes and shuddered. “All right. All right. Thank you.”

Irine hugged her, and this time Reese rested against the tigraine.

Urise was not in the library the following morning, and though Hirianthial waited half an hour for him, he did not arrive. Concerned, he returned to the priest quarters in the palace to ask after him, only to be told that Urise had resumed living in the Cathedral dormitories after retiring as palace priest and that he would have to seek the priest there.

He drew on the fur-lined cloak and gloves and left in search of his teacher. The Cathedral was walking distance from Ontine, but he wanted to waste no time and the weather, if he was any judge, was finally working itself toward either another cold rain or the first moist snow of the season. He had a horse brought around and rode, hooves clattering on the stone road, out beneath the gates and the louring gray sky. The wet and bitter wind drove him before it, all the way to the spires of Ontine Cathedral, its buttresses a grimy shade against a sky white with diffuse clouds. The gloom cast deep shadows over the stained glass windows, leaving only glints to suggest their magnificence, blood ruby, darkwater sapphire, a flash of lion’s gold.

He could have married in this cathedral, by right of blood and Queen’s favor. But he’d chosen instead the more intimate family chapel at Jisiensire’s country seat. Dismounting now before the marble steps that rose higher than he was tall, he thought it strange that Urise should choose to live here when he seemed more akin to that atmosphere than to the overwhelming elegance of a cathedral large enough to seat the entirety of the capital during the high holy days.

One did not enter the cathedral proper on a casual errand. He went to the side entrance and was greeted there by a novice in the robes of the God, the arm devoted to ordinary services. The youth took his message and left him to wait in the narrow foyer. He sat on one of the benches that lined it and thought ruefully that it had probably been left bare of cushion to discourage petitioners—or to mortify them.

The novice did not return. Instead a full priest in the dark carmine of the Lord—the arm given over to the mysteries—came to him with a tale that Urise had taken ill.

“Ill?” Hirianthial said, rising. “Please, show me to him. I am a doctor.”

The priest’s pause was almost imperceptible. “It is nothing a doctor need concern himself with. Merely a flux, it will pass.”