"Another victory for the establishment, Constable?" "I was not able to instill sufficient unity in rfty followers, sir," she muttered. "How do you feel?"
"Very well, so far. I have even been asked for a dance by a bawdy wench." "How bawdy, sir?" "Well, she did let me feel her breast." "Oh sir! Not the white-haired tart from the ruling establishment." <'Yes indeed." Although I was feeling quite desolate, I was ndft about to let Riellen know that, mainly out of sheer pride. Strange how I feign to court Lavenci to annoy Riellen, yet navel just spurned Lavenci, I thought.
"So, the curse-headache has not hit you yet?" she asked, looking around as if expecting someone. i
"No. For a change, it's the end of a mission, yet I feel wonderful."
"Could I get you a celebratory ale, sir? It is the drink of the toiling classes."
"Why thank you, Constable."
Riellen made straight for a serving maid with a tray of full mugs, rather than face the taverner at the serving board. They seemed to talk for a long time. With our ales secured, we toasted the end of another successful mission, then watched as a team of morris dancers did a stick dance. OnCe the morris men had finished, the musicians began a bracket of jigs. I recognized the ostler, Grem, dancing between crossed axes with a pot of ale balanced on his head.
"Hie, but it's nice to be in uncomplicated company," I said as Riellen and I stood together.
"Was your company in that other tavern complicated, sir?"
"More than you could ever imagine," I said truthfully. I was unwilling to say anything bad about Lavenci after hurting her so much. I hated myself, but although I wanted to hate Lavenci, I could not. I also wanted more sympathetic company than Riellen. A familiar twinge of pain lanced into existence behind one eye.
"Kavelen Lavenci is an upper-class exploiter of the honest, simple, toiling masses—" began Riellen quite suddenly, but I nudged her before she got any further.
"There she is!" I exclaimed as I caught sight of Lavenci across the dance square. She was now wearing a calf-length red dress that looked to be of real silk. "Right on cue. Beautiful woman arrives just as my migraine does."
"She is startling of features, sir."
"But strikingly attractive," I replied at once.
"Sir, casual and fleeting indulgence in the pleasures of the flesh is a manifestation of decadent—"
"Oh nonsense," I laughed. "The whole of life in the Wayfarers is casual and fleeting."
"Well / choose to forgo the pleasures of the flesh and dedicate myself to using my travels in the Wayfarer Constables to spread the revolutionary ideology of equality."
"Lost cause."
"Why so, sir? The empress may have abdicated because she grew tired of oppressing the downtrodden toilers."
"Strange one, the empress. She despised rulers before she was crowned. There were some of us who doubted she could endure being one for long, but she lasted for three years. Now she really is gone. Pity. Things were peaceful in Alberin's domains under her rule."
"Oh but sir, what about skirmishes between warlords, raids by brigands, riots over tournaments and cockfights, and border disputes?"
"Aye, but they're not serious altercations."
"Sir, those altercations were serious for those caught up in them," insisted Riellen doggedly.
"Pah! The casualty lists never rose above a few dozen. Besides, Empress Wensomer also provided a string of royal scandals to fuel the production of scandal sheets for the public bulletin boards. That's a royal duty, and she performed it well."
"Sir!" Riellen exclaimed, outraged.
"Joke, Riellen, joke," I sighed, then took anotjier swallow of my ale to distract myself from the growing pain in my head. "Look, the albino lady is not dancing with anyone else—oh, and she just declined that carter's invitation to take to the square."
"Her hair is still down, that means she is waiting for her beau," said Riellen.
"She's obviously waiting for me," I declared, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.
"But sir, your head—"
"Is hurting already, but I still have a chance to rnake a good impression tonight, then meet her tomorrow when I am feeling better. Some women like a man who is not too forward."
"Sir, will you really meet this upper-class, exploitative oppressor of the honest toilers tomorrow morning?"
"No, I've a mind to ride over to the forest and see the shooting star that fell there this evening, then report back by lunchtime."
"Oh very good, sir, duty and all that. I knew you were teasing me."
"On second thought, perhaps I could meet Kavelen Lavenci for lunch."
"Oh sir!" Riellen exclaimed. "She's even dressled as a class enemy."
"But I'm definitely going to the forest." "Am I coming too, sir?"
''Yes! I get nervous about leaving you anywhere where there is a crowd of people, a barrel to stand on^ and somewhere to run when the militia is sent to arrest you."
"Sir, you're just saying that to be nice," giggled Riellen, giving me a coy push.
Somewhere in the distance a crier rang the bell for an hour past dusk. I rubbed at my temples as the pain intensified.
"Sir, you should lie down. I have rooms upstairs booked for us."
"Actually I did notice the sign of a healer in a nearby lane, Riellen," I said, remembering Norellie. "Perhaps you could go there and see whether she has a spell or charm to counter the pain in my head. Second lane on the right, and go to the ninth house on the right. There should be a sign that says
'Norellie Herbs and Healing.' Tell the healer my problem, then fetch her here."
>: >:
With Riellen gone, I set off to fulfill my obligation. I was soon close enough to Lavenci to touch her. She was drinking from a wine cup, and watching the locals doing slip jigs as I approached.
"Ladyship, why do you not dance?" I asked, stepping up beside her and giving a sort of sideways bow.
"I have not noticed you dancing either, Inspector," she replied smoothly.
"Ah, but I am waiting to have a dance with you."
She gave me a curious little frown, then began to tie up her hair. My headache was getting worse with each passing heartbeat. I saw Riellen hurry back with a woman dressed in dark robes, then lead her into the tavern. Well, perhaps the pain will not be too bad tonight, I thought hopefully.
"Are you ready for our dance?" Lavenci asked.
Waves of molten glass started to slosh about in my head. I was beyond caring about anything other than oblivion.
"A dance?" I echoed stupidly.
"Yes, a dance. People hold hands and jump about in time to music. We danced together three months ago in Alberin, you may remember."
"My pardon," I said, offering her my arm.
I led Lavenci into the dance square just as the opening bars of a reel were being played, more or less in shock to even feel her hand in mine. We danced through quite a long bracket of reels, and I had to concentrate hard on remembering some of
the steps. I noticed Riellen near the band, presumably waiting to whisk me away to the healer. The bracket finished with a leisurely triplestep, which is danced in a light embrace. The music stopped, and we all clapped.
"My lady, I may have to retire early," I announced.
"Sir, that is uncommonly forward of you!" my albino partner laughed. "Were I a nice girl I would slap your face, but I am a hoyden, so may I retire with you?"
"Ah, sorry, no, no," I babbled. "I meant that I've had a long journey today, and I am very tired."
Suddenly Lavenci put a hand to her head and staggered slightly. I caught hold of her, thinking she might fall.
"Ladyship, what is the matter?" I asked.
"A sudden strangeness, like a wave of tiny, hot needles sweeping over me," she said as she opened her eyes again. "I have an odd, metallic taste in my mouth, an odd dizziness, yet a feeling of great well-being."
"As a field medicar, I think it might be delayed (shock. A reaction to our hard words of an hour ago
catching up with you at last."
"The feeling is familiar, but... can't think clearly."
"Breathe deeply, and clear your mind."
A couple of minutes had Lavenci out of distress, in fact she rebounded into very high spirits. The opening bars of "All the King's Lancers" blared out.
"All the King's Lancers" was a tournament dance, and a muscular young man with a wharf-master's plate at each shoulder and curly blond hair danced a challenge jig, then bowed to a girl. A bearded youth with a red shawl in his right hand now danced another challenge set. The two raised their right arms and charged each other. The wharfmaster caught the scarf as they passed, and they spun in a half circle before the bearded youth lost his grip on the scarf and went stumbling away into the crowd to the sound of a mighty cheer. A girl now skipped onto the floor and the blond youth danced a set with her, but tucked her scarf into his belt. The rest of us stood clapping as another youth took up the wharf-master's challenge.
"Tha's young Pelmore, 'e canna be beat," cried a grizzled timberjack beside me, indicating the blond wharfer with his pipe.
Six more youths had been sent stumbling away and six girls had shared a dance with Pelmore before the young, blond wharfmaster approached Lavenci and gestured to her. She offered me a scarf.
"Take my favor, joust for me!" she shouted above the music. "I rather fancy that blond wharfer."
"He's an Inquisition spy, remember?" I hissed in her ear.
"Spies make the best lovers!" she giggled.
Against my better judgment, and with my head filled with hot needles, I accepted her scarf, entered the space, and danced a challenge. My estimate was that Pelmore had a thirty-pound advantage over me, for I weigh a mere hundred and eighty pounds. We charged, closed, and he seized the scarf. I whirled around, and we began to spin. Nobody else had lasted more than two turns with Pelmore, but I spun five times before my feet left the floor. I then hung on for two more flying rotations before the scarf actually ripped and I went flying off into the crowd.
By the time a serving maid was helping me back to my feet, Lavenci was dancing with Pelmore. Riellen appeared by my side.
"Are you hurt, sir?" she asked briskly, staring down the serving maid. "It's all right, miss, I am qualified to look after him."
"Ooh, so am I. Not a night goes past when I don't help at least half a dozen fallen drinkers back to their feet."
"I do regret your loss, sir!" barked Riellen.
"It's just a dance, Constable, but I hope she doesn't expect me to pay for the scarf. What is the situation with the healer woman?"
"I'll let you know when she is ready for you," said Riellen, now looking a lot more relaxed.
"Do you think she might fancy me?" I asked teasingly.
"Oh sir! Can you not appreciate merely subliminal esteem?" By the time the set ended, Pelmore had the scarves of a dozen girls tucked into his belt. As everyone clapped, he held Lavenci's scarf high, signifying that she was his choice to be queen of the tourney. They grasped both hands together while the dancing master tied the remains of Lavenci's trophy scarf around their hands. They were now expected to untie the knot with their teeth, and this was meant to be the opportunity to exchange a kiss. Sorrow clutched at my intestines, even though my mind kept telling me that she was no longer any business of mine.
"It seems that you were the excuse for her to meet the dance champion, sir," declared Riellen.
"I'm from the government, and I'm here to help," I replied with a sneer.
"Speaking of service, when will that healer be ready to provide some? If she can blunt my migraine, I may have a chance with that serving maid with the big, um ..."
"Smile?"
"Ha ha, very funny, yes, the one who helped me up. She did smile at me rather encouragingly, come to think of it. Perhaps if I fell down in her vicinity again?"
"It probably happens a lot, sir."
"What do you have planned for the night, Constable?"
"I shall be reading How to Win Crowds and Influence Rioters. It is an excellent—"
"Good, good, you must tell me about it once you have finished," I said hurriedly, rubbing my bruised backside again. I put my hand to my head.
"Actually, could you go inside and hurry your healer woman along—oh, and which room am I booked into?"
"Sir, I have you booked into the room with the green door," barked Riellen, then she vanished into the crowd.
Now I sought out Lavenci, who was, predictably, still in the company of Pelmore.
"My apologies, ladyship, but your favor was not up to the strain," I said as I handed the scrap of scarf back to her.
"Oh, do you hear that, mighty Pelmore, he blarnes my favor for his loss!" she replied very theatrically.
"Had I not already beaten him, I would issue ft challenge," laughed Pelmore. i
"Oh apologies, mighty lord, beautiful ladyship, I meant no offense," I said as I spread my hands and dropped to one knee. "I am a mere inspector, too rough of manner to know when I cause offense."
"In that case, I forgive you!" said Pelmore grapdly. Technically, he was now in breach of manners. The champion should be strong and fight bravely. His lady's role was to be wise, pass judgment, and bestow forgiveness. On the other hand this was not the royal court in Alberin, so who cared?
"And what do you do to keep shelter over your head, my lord Pelmore?" Lavenci asked her champion.
"I am but a simple wharfmaster, ma'am."
And part-time Inquisition spy, I thought as I sipped at my drink.
"You dance so well, and look so comely," replied Lavenci in a tone that she had certainly never used with me. "Surely you could be some prince in the guise of a wharfmaster."
"No more than you could be a princess in the guise of a merchant's daughter," he said, doing a courtly flourish.
"Why would I take the guise of a commoner were I a princess?"
"For the same reason that I might. To seek sincere and true love, a love that is not clouded by awe for one's position."
There is nothing quite so uninteresting as someone else's courtship banter, so it was at this point that I took my leave of them and sought out the friendly serving maid. I secured a drink from her, and she very pointedly put my copper into her cleavage. She also said that she hoped I would be doing a lot more drinking that night. I assured her that I would, then turned away—and nearly collided with Riellen. She saluted.
"Pleased to report that the woman will await your pleasure in the room with the green door, should you give her a further ten minutes, sir! The fee will be four florins hourly."
I winced, swallowed, and sucked a breath between my teeth.
"Four florins?" I managed, unable to think of any words capable of saving my reputation with the serving maid.
"She is reputed to be very good, sir!" declared Riellen, again saluting smartly. "One of the serving maids told me as much. Will that be all?"
"Yes, yes. Dismissed."
Riellen departed at once. The serving maid took a drink from her tray and flung it in my face, then stormed off. Lavenci and Pelmore now approached me again.
¦I see you have charmed a free drink from the serving maid," observed Lavenci, both of them looking mildly arftused.
"One might put it that way," I said as I wiped my face, almost nauseous with the pain in my head.
"But that's not the type of charm a lad needs to win a secret princess," said Pelmore, giving all his attention to Lavenci.
"Noble Pelmore, what secret princess could I possibly be?" laughed Lavenci.
"As an albino princess I would be recognized at once, no matter what guise I assumed."
"Then a prince in disguise would love you for your beauty alone. Your hair gleams like the ice of the Drakenridge glaciers."
"I have read of those glaciers, you flatter me greatly." She winked conspiratorially. "But this ice-white hue may not even be my hair's natural shade."
"Oh indeed?" he replied. "But there are ways and ways to know such thing
s." About as subtle as a pig in a pastry shop, I thought. Lavenci put a hand on her waist and tilted her hip slightly in Pelmore's direction.
"Ah, so you wish to know if all of my hair is of this color?" The surprise on my face was probably as bright as a beacon pyre, and Pelmore's eyes certainly widened too. Why should she take words like that from him but not me? Sorrow stabbed through my intestines at least as sharply as the pain in my head. I made a silent resolution to register a complaint with Love next time I was near one of her temples, ahd to send a cover copy to Romance as well.
'That sight must be one that even gods would die for," sighed Pelmore in reply.
"You are comely enough to be a god," said Lavenci in a silky voice, "but you do not have to die."
Pelmore blushed, and his lips parted slightly, but for once words failed him.
"I'd better leave you to it," I said, raising my mug. 'Time for me to crawl off and die somewhere."
Tilting her nose upward and giving a slight sneer, Lavenci dropped the tatty scrap of her scarf into my unfinished mug of wine and minced off on Pelmore's arm. Oh well^ mission accomplished, I thought as I watched them go with a mixture of desolation and relief.
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