I looked at him with surprise. “You’re leaving already? The Bill’s drafted then?”
He shuffled his feet, suddenly serious. “We’ve been told the Empress’ health has taken a turn for the worse,” he said. “And she’s anxious to get this Bill shoved through before she dies.”
I felt my mouth drop open before I hastily pulled it shut. “It’s that serious?”
He shrugged. “That’s what they say. The last week has been sheer hell, trying to get all the important bits on parchment. That’s been done and most of us have been ordered home. There’re three solicitors still working on it, polishing it as much as they can. I think the idea is to get it through and then do the fine-tuning after it’s passed.”
I whistled. “The Prince must be thrilled with that.”
Ah, the Prince, the Prince, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t think of him. At all, if I could help it. Since he left High Scape I’d been waiting for something to happen. For summons to Erstwhile. For the Runners to show up to arrest me. For the Triple S council to order us back to Shidonee’s Gap. Something.
But nothing had happened. Which was good. But I didn’t know if that meant there was nothing to worry about, or that the different parties involved were just taking their time deciding what to do. All I could do was wait and hope it was all coming to nothing. Very hard on the nerves.
I frowned as a new worrisome thought disrupted the others. I looked at Risa. “This is none of my business,” I said, “but should you really be throwing one of your extravagant parties right now?” I’ve heard of people who were bankrupt going out with a bang, but I didn’t want to see Risa following down that path of folly.
She grinned, apparently unoffended by my inquisitive question that I had no business asking. “Got a loan,” she announced. “Erin arranged it.”
“Not so you could blow it all on frivolous tripe,” Erin muttered.
She glared at her brother. “Don’t start,” she warned him in a hard voice. “I’m not a child. I’ll use my money as I like.”
It was on the tip of my tongue, the suggestion that now that she had gotten this break she should use it to start clearing up her debts, not squander it on insubstantial amusements. But I didn’t want to resurrect our earlier argument. And Risa was right. I had no idea how frustrating it could be to want something and not be able to afford it. To know you would never be able to afford it.
Everyone did stupid things every once in a while. I’d indulged in some masterpieces. Just look at my fiasco on stage.
Risa’s gaze left her brother and she made a deliberate effort to resume her earlier carefree air. “So are you coming?” she asked me.
“Aye, and bring your mother,” Erin added. “She’s brilliant.”
Risa nudged him in the ribs and he glanced at her with surprise.
“My mother went home,” I told him.
“Oh. Sorry. I was under the impression that she was here for a good while.”
“She felt she had to get back home.”
I had received a letter from her the other day, thanking me for my hospitality and congratulating me on High Scape’s improved circumstances. Telling me that it looked like Dias was developing serious interest in an appropriate girl. Enthusing about the profit margins of the last quarter. In other words, it was a letter identical in tone and general content to all the other letters she had ever sent me. No mention was made of why she had left early. No attempt was made to continue the discussion she’d left with. No hint was given that we ever would.
I didn’t know how to respond to the letter. So I had decided not to, for a while.
I pulled in a quick breath of surprise as an arm curled around my waist from behind. Then I realized who it was. “Trying to ditch me?” a voice spoke into my ear.
I tried to jerk away, though not too hard, because I didn’t want to make a scene, so Karish didn’t let me go. “I’m not speaking to you,” I told him. “That poem was a disaster.”
“Ah, they’re all a bunch of city sackers,” he said dismissively. “What do they know?”
“Bad poetry when they hear it.”
“In time those who achieve real wisdom will look back on this day and appreciate that poem for the artwork that it is.”
Erin snorted.
“I’m having a small get-together tonight, Karish,” Risa said. “It’s a going-away party for Erin. I’ve just asked Dunleavy. Would you like to come?”
I didn’t look up at Karish; it would be too uncomfortable from my current position, but I imagined him cocking his head in that gracious way of his. “We can’t attend,” he said formally. “We have a watch in the Stall this evening. But thank you for the kind invitation.”
Risa’s gaze watched to me and I nodded. “I was going to tell you but I got side-tracked.” And I was relieved not to be going. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable drinking Risa’s wine and eating her food and knowing she couldn’t afford to be serving it.
Someone on the stage started singing. Really really badly. So completely off-key I couldn’t believe he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He had to be. No one could be that bad by accident. I clapped my hands over my ears without thinking. Erin and Risa, who’d had their backs to the stage, glanced over their shoulders with grimaces of disgust. Didn’t the man know he was risking a barrage of fruit?
“What’s wrong?” Karish asked.
I looked up at him then. And saw he was serious. He honestly couldn’t hear it. For a brief moment I thought how wonderful it must be to be tone-deaf.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Erin.
“Wait wait wait!” a voice called from the side, and Doran of all people jogged up to us.
Karish’s arm tightened to an almost uncomfortable degree before loosening again.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded with an appalling lack of manners. It was just, did everyone I know show up to watch my humiliation? He was another person who’d asked when I was performing, and another person I’d refused to tell.
He smiled without repentance. “I wanted to see your show.”
I held back a sigh and gave into the hints Risa was giving me with her steady, unsubtle stare. “Doran, this is Solicitor Erin Demaris and Runner Risa Demaris, his sister. Erin and Risa, this is Lord—” I stumbled, realizing I didn’t know Doran’s proper title, “—Doran Laidley?”
“Lord Stoneridge, if you want to get pompous about it,” he said easily. “Old title, little chunk of land you couldn’t grow potatoes on, no cash. No excessive pride, here.”
“Do you work, then?” Erin asked.
Doran, if he had felt like it, could have expressed horror and indignation at the thought. Instead he shrugged. “I’ve been known to carve the odd trinket or two. Little statuettes. Miniature profiles. Toys even. People have been willing to pay a few coins for them.” And then he put his index finger to his lips, a parody of a request for secrecy.
And once again I had to squash down the envy I felt for people who could do things with their hands. “How’s Lydia?” She had, of course, left the hospital, and I had visited her at her home, but she was requiring a long convalescence.
“Getting over the fever, finally. But still quite weak and finding it infuriating. And Ivan—her fiancé—is simply driving her mad with his hovering.” He grinned. “It’s fun to watch.”
“You have no sympathy for the poor woman? Hard-hearted man.”
“I have sympathy for us right now.” He winced at the stage. “That guy is simply awful. Do you think he’s working out some latent anger?”
“Think I should arrest him?” Risa asked with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Disturbing the peace or something. Inflicting emotional distress on the public.”
“Voluntary assumption of risk,” said Erin. “Everyone knows going in that they might see something awful.” And he looked at me with amusement, the prat.
“Aye, but he can’t use that defence until he shows up in court. In the meantime I’ll have him arre
sted and silent. A short-term solution is all I’m looking for right now.”
While Erin explained to Risa the difference between a tort and a crime, Doran touched my arm to get my attention. “They’re holding a bench-dancing competition on West Baker Street,” he said. “It’s just a little one. Most people are still watching the performances. But I thought you might like to indulge in something you’re good at. You know, after—” he waved at the stage, “—that. And I’ve never seen you dance.”
There was no reason why he should. “I’m not dressed for it.”
“Please. For me.”
I let myself roll my eyes.
Doran glanced at Karish’s arm, still around me waist. “My lord, please. Use your influence. This will be good for her.”
“You overestimate my influence,” Karish said over my head. “But you should go, Lee. For my sake if nothing else. You’ve been impossible this last little while.”
I twisted around to glare up at him.
He grinned back.
I was surrounded by men who thought they were just too clever.
But what the hell. I had nothing else to do. “We’ll have to go by the house so I can change.”
“We’ve got time if we rent a carriage.”
Karish withdrew his arm. “Don’t sprain an ankle.” He leaned down to kiss my cheek.
“I’m never going to forgive you for today, you know.”
He winked at me. “You’d forgive me anything.”
Aye, probably, more fool I. But I was so happy to have the old Karish back, the easy-going relaxed Karish, that I wasn’t up to pretending I was seriously angry with him.
We said good day to Risa and Erin, whose discussion had degenerated into some kind of practical versus theoretical legal argument. Karish slipped away with a wave. Doran offered me his arm and as I was wearing those obnoxious skirts over uneven ground, I took it.
“May I call you Lee, too?” he asked.
I hesitated. Few people called me Lee. My family. A couple of old lovers. Karish, from the day we met and without bothering to ask permission. Shields were usually called by their family name by those within the Triple S. Dunleavy, from a regular, was acceptable. Lee, though, assumed a sort of familiarity I wasn’t usually comfortable with.
Perhaps I needed to get over. “Sure,” I said. Besides, I liked him.
So did Karish, it seemed, though that wasn’t as much of a relief as I would have expected. And that was foolish.
He seemed a nice, normal person. Easygoing, non-dazzling, with a calm, regular life. And I could use a little of that. No more weird adventures.
The Hero Strikes Back Page 30