“It is one of my favorite events,” I said.
Ectar was looking over at the ladies’ group as they all got to their feet, chattering quietly again. His face wore the slightest smile and to my surprise, one of the ladies raised a hand to wave at him. She was a tiny thing in a pale green suit, with a soft, gathered mass of long, pale yellow hair, and her delicate painted mouth curved in an answering tiny smile. “My dear Lady Reuta,” he said, beckoning her forward. “Did you enjoy the dancing?”
“Very much,” she said, bowing her head. She walked in dainty, soft steps, her suit barely moving, giving the impression of her gliding over to us. Coupled with her pretty, doll-like face, it gave her an otherworldly appearance. “It was beautiful. Did you like it, my lord?” Her words were directed at him but her gaze was on me.
He nodded enthusiastically. “Remarkable!” he repeated. “My dear, won’t you come and meet my correspondent, Credola Kalina?” The woman missed—or ignored—the low noise of protest from the chaperone, who had been herding the ladies toward the door. Ectar brought the young woman’s hand to his cheek affectionately, then held it out to me. “Credola Kalina, this is the Lady of Agarata, Lady Reuta. My youngest sister.”
The resemblance was there, now he said it, in the shape of her nose and her small, pointed chin. “It is a pleasure,” I said, offering my hand.
“It is my pleasure. You were so brave just now with Brother Lu, Credola Kalina,” she said, but before we could shake hands, the chaperone had stepped in, stony-faced and rigid-spined.
“Excuse me, my lord, but the ladies are required to return to their accommodations. My lady, if you will please?” His manner made it clear it was not a request. Brother Lu steered Reuta back toward the others, taking obvious care to avoid the Perest-Avani Priestess and her attendants as they left the area. Ectar opened his mouth as if he might protest, but then shrugged and turned back to us, his eyes bright with some impending suggestion.
“I must beg forgiveness and take my leave as well,” I said, before he could issue any further invitations. “Thank you for the company, Lord Ectar, Minister Kokush. It was an honor to be invited here. I promised to collect my niece, and I fear I may already be late.” Jov was collecting Dee, but I needed to rest, soon, and to strategize. And now I wanted to do more reading about the Church in Talafar. Brother Lu’s barely concealed hostility, even in the face of me literally having saved his life, was intriguing, and the Church’s feelings on violence and conquest would be very interesting to know.
“Thank you, Credola,” the Minister said. I noted with satisfaction the thaw in his manner. Perhaps he would not avoid our next meeting. “Brother Lu is lucky we ran into you this morning, or this might have turned into quite the tragedy.”
“Are you sure you must go?” Ectar asked plaintively. For all his sophistication and occasional charm, he was still a wealthy and powerful man, accustomed to getting what he wanted.
“Very sure. But thank you.”
Ectar, disappointed at my insistence, touched the back of my hand to his face. “We are all lucky, as the Minister says. We shall meet again soon, Credola.”
We started toward the exit, following the disappearing party of noblewomen, before I remembered the poppet I’d seen under the bench. “One moment, Lord Ectar,” I apologized, and ducked down to where I’d seen the doll. I tugged it out. “Are there any children with the ladies? I think someone dropped a toy.” Though even as I said it, I realized it was unlikely to be the toy of a noble child. It was an ugly little thing, clumsily made, with one deformed leg and grubby string wound round to form the neck. Its dress was a black scrap of fabric. Holding it now, I found I didn’t like it at all; it reminded me of the big dummies we had used as fake sentries in the siege, or of the targets we had practiced archery on. More reminiscent of weapons and war than a play.
Ectar shrugged. “I don’t think so,” he said carelessly, though I doubted he’d have paid enough attention to the dozens of servants in their party to be able to tell. Some poor toddler was likely already missing their favorite toy, hideous or not.
An elderly servant was carrying a pile of the ladies’ shawls, hats, and other belongings toward the exit. “Excuse me,” I said. She did not look up, but bowed deeply in my direction.
“My lady?” Her voice was soft and quavering, as if she feared reprimand. “At your service?” It made me uncomfortable seeing the Talafan staff’s degree of deference compared to the workers in our employ: our housekeeper, Sjease, who had taken over our household in the space of less than a month and now shamelessly bossed us all around at leisure; my guard Lara with her cheeky good humor and long-winded stories about her son; or Tain’s earnest young page, Erel. I’d seen some bad treatment of staff in this city, but even the most self-important wealthy Silastians would find the level of worshipful service apparently expected of Talafan servants disconcerting.
I held out the poppet. “Is there a child traveling with your party? I think someone dropped this.”
She looked up with a little jerk, and took the doll so swiftly it was almost sleight of hand. “Of course, of course, thank you, my lady, thank you,” she murmured, and backed away, the poppet already lost in the piles in her arms. I felt strangely relieved at having handed it over. I wiped my hand on the side of my hip as if I could remove the touch of it. I noticed one of the Marutian Dukes, still sitting at the back of the area, was watching me with his head cocked to one side, one hand stroking his beard. Not for the first time, I felt unsettled at having been watched by a stranger.
“Come, you’ll be late for your niece!” Ectar said, and I wondered if I’d irritated him, but as we proceeded down the steps of the arena he chuckled indulgently instead. It reminded me that he still thought of me as a strange and exotic marvel, not quite of the same species as himself. Though my limbs trembled with weariness, I sped up so his hand fell away from my back. I was not a spectacle for anyone’s entertainment, and I’d had enough of acting that part for the day.
I was descending a few lengths behind Brother Lu, at the tail end of the ladies’ procession, when he fell.
The priest was stepping confidently, if stiffly, his arms folded behind his back, when his leg simply … crumpled, like soggy paper, just as he transferred his weight. No one had pushed or even touched him. Nor did he miss his step or slip for an obvious reason, and the steps were clear of debris. But he went down hard, and fast, and with nothing more than a yelp.
“My God!” Ectar, perhaps embarrassed by his inaction with the choking, sprang forward immediately this time. “Are you all right, Brother?”
This time, the man couldn’t foist off the assistance; his leg had gone between two steps and he howled in pain. Ectar, sweat breaking out on his wide-eyed face, pulled back the man’s nihep, and one of the women screamed. The ugly break was horrifically apparent in the protrusion of white bone through a jagged, bloody gash in his shin. Vomit rose in my throat and I clapped a hand over my mouth.
“Get a physic,” I cried, and heard the shake in my own voice.
Then I let myself be caught up in the crowd of concerned onlookers and away from the Talafan party. I didn’t understand what had just happened but for whatever reason, the ugly poppet sprang back into my mind, its throat tight with string and one leg missing or deformed. The mental image was a sinister and unpleasant thing. I wanted very much to be away from this odd party of hostile priests and corralled women and opaque officials. There was something wrong in this Talafan camp.