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out of his tumbling silks and pulled on a long dark robe, thrust his feet into the aged sandals he brought along when the performance would be long, com-plex and tiring. Knotting a narrow black sash about his waist, he walked back into the main room, stood looking around. Chinkoury the m darjin magician and his boys in a small knot by the door, elongated blue-black figures, even the boys a head taller than Taguiloa. To one side and a little behind them a clutch of Felhiddin knife dancers, bending, stretching, testing gear, inspecting each other, chattering in their rapid guttural tongue, little brown men covered in intricate blue tattoos. He didn t recognize them, must be new to Silili. Trust Csermanoa to get hold of something no one else had seen. Curled up in the far corner, snatching what sleep they could, six young women, more joyhouse girls than dancers, a step above ordinary joygirls, but far below the rank of courtesan, though most of them had hopes. The last to perform in both their functions they were expected to return to their house with more than their appearance fee, with longer-term attachments if they could manage it. He nodded to Chinkoury and passed out of the pavilion. He stood in shadow watching the dancers, silently applaud-ing Tari for the gift she was wasting on those drunken coin-suckers. He watched the merchants for a moment with a contempt he usually had to hide; some were drink-ing and eating, a few frankly asleep, others wandering about, some watching the dancers, some with their heads together, a heavily conspiratorial air about them that sug-gested they either plotted new coups or told each other tales of coups past to magnify their shrewdness. Maybe one or two watched Blackthorn dancing with a pinch of Page 76 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html appreciation and understanding of what they were seeing, the magic she was making there on the cork mats before the painted coffin. Taguiloa drew his sleeve across his face, amused and angry. I ought to know, he thought, by now I ought to know what to expect. He put anger away and watched Blackthorn end her dance, bow first to the coffin, her sleeves fluttering dangerously near the hordes of candles burning about the elaborate box, then to the audience, who woke enough to provide the expected ap-plause, she was after all Blackthorn, the most celebrated dancer in three generations. As her maids came giggling into the audience, rattling their collecting bowls, dodging gropes, shaking heads at gross remarks but careful to smile and say nothing, Blackthorn sailed majestically into the darkness, her dancers drifting after her, the flute player weaving a slow simple tune that trailed into silence a moment after the last of the girls vanished. In the hush before Chinkoury was due to appear, Taguiloa heard a faint commotion from the direction of the main gate and succumbed to the curiosity that was his chief vice. He glanced quickly about, but the noisy clash of cymbals, the sprays of colored smoke and the hooming of the appren-tices as they ushered their master onto the cork, all this had trapped the attention of most of the guests and servants; those still involved in conversations wouldn t notice if old Csagalgasoa climbed out of his coffin and jigged on the lid. He slipped away and eeled into a dark corner of the public court, hidden behind a potted blackthorn that Tari had given to Csermanoa when he was one of her favored few, before she inherited her house and income from another of her lovers. Old Grum stopped talking and slammed the hatch shut, swung the bar and opened the wicket to let in the folk he d been arguing with. A man and a woman. Not Hina. Two children, very fair. Not Hina. You wait, Grum said, You wait here. He jerked a third time at the bell rope then stumped off to his hutch and vanished inside. A broad man muscled like a hero, Panday by the look of him, not much taller than Taguiloa but wide enough to make two of him. Dark brown skin shining in the torch-light, yellow eyes, hawk s eyes. Taguiloa grinned. Fitting, with a beak like that. Wide, rather thick-lipped mouth, good for grins or sneers. Raggedly cut black hair. Barbaric ear ornament the length of a man s finger, a series of animal faces linked together. A shipmaster from his dress. The woman, tall and full of nervous energy. Attractive face for one not Hina, rather wide in the mouth with elegant cheekbones and an arrogant nose; eyebrows like swallow s wings over large lustrous eyes. Green, he thought, though it was hard to be sure in the torchlight. A band of silk wound about [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |