Tonight, her dream would come true. She would see Bingtown. She shut the tall window and went to the wardrobe to select clothing. She was to be a guest at some sort of summer assemblage the Traders held. She gathered that by their standards, it was quite an affair. It was for the Bingtown Traders only: outsiders were admitted only if they had married into a Bingtown Trader family. Young women would be presented as being of age, and she had heard some rumors of offerings of friendship exchanged between the Bingtown Traders and the Rain Wild Traders. Now that, she told herself, was a fascinating internal distinction, one that was not spoken of in Jamaillia. Why were offerings exchanged? Did one group subjugate the other? Questions, questions.
Serilla frowned at her jewelry. She could scarcely wear what she had filched from the Satrap's chests. Kekki or one of the others would be sure to recognize it and comment upon it. While she was sure that, given enough time alone with the Satrap, she could make him «recall» giving it to her, she did not want the situation to arise in public. With a small sigh, she restored the jewelry to its hiding place inside a slipper. She would have to go unadorned.
Yesterday, one of Davad Restart's visitors had sought to distinguish herself by bragging the gossip that Reyn Khuprus of the Rain Wild Traders was actually already courting a young girl who was to be presented tonight. The other Old Traders present had sternly hushed her. Then the woman, one Reft Faddon, had been bold enough to defy them, pointing out that surely the Satrap and his Companions would be introduced to young Khuprus at the ball. What was the point of concealing who he was?
Davad Restart himself had intervened. The host, who had been almost stiflingly accommodating to that point, suddenly invoked his power. "But you cannot discuss young Khuprus without mentioning the Vestrit family and the young lady in question. In her father's absence, I regard her reputation to be my responsibility. I shall not tolerate any gossip about her. But I shall ensure that you shall meet her personally after her presentation. She is a dazzling young lady. Now. Shall we have more cakes?"
He had effectively ended the conversation. While some of the Bingtown Traders had regarded him with approval, a few of the others had rolled their eyes at his circumspect ways. Interesting. She could sense the pull and stress of power at play here. This Davad Restart seemed to be some sort of a bridge between the Old and New Traders. Circumstance seemed to have landed them in an ideal position, for both sides of the divided society seemed moderately comfortable in calling on Davad. While the New Traders brought the Satrap extravagant gifts and invitations to their homes, the Bingtown Traders brought only their dignity and implied power. She did not think the Satrap had made a particularly good impression on the Old Traders, nor they on him. It would be interesting to see how things proceeded. There was so much going on here; it was so much livelier than the staid and stagnant court at Jamaillia. Here, if a woman was bold, she could make a place for herself. She pulled a gown from the wardrobe and held it against her. It would do, she decided. It was simple, but well made; surely, that would be appropriate for an evening among provincial folk.
Changing into the gown necessitated baring her body. She resolutely turned her back to the mirror in the room while she dressed. Yesterday morning, as she dressed, a casual look in the mirror had revealed to her that the deep bruises on her back and the back of her thighs had faded to shades of green, brown and yellow. Yet, that brief betraying glance had suddenly swept her back into horror and helplessness. She had been caught there, staring at herself. Suddenly a deep shuddering, more kin to convulsion than trembling, had taken her. She had sat down abruptly on the edge of her bed, and taken great breaths to keep the deep sobs from tearing out of her. Tears would have been a relief. Even after she had managed to dress, she had been unable to force herself out the door and down to breakfast. They would know. They would all know. How could anyone look at her and not know how badly she had been hurt?
It had taken her until noon to compress her feelings and master them again. The panic had passed, and she had been able to join the party, pleading a morning headache as excuse for her absence. Since then, she had wondered if it were strength or a sort of madness that let her pretend she was normal. As before, she resolved to create for herself a place where no man had authority over her. She lifted her chin as she touched scent to her throat. Tonight, she told herself. The opportunity might come tonight. If it did, she would be ready.
"HOW DO YOU STAND THE VEIL?" GRAG TENIRA ASKED REYN. "I THOUGHT I was going to die of suffocation in the carriage on the way here."
Reyn shrugged. "One gets used to it. I have lighter ones than the one I loaned you, but I feared you might be recognized if you were not veiled heavily."
They sat together in a guest chamber in the Tenira home. A small table had been bustled in, laden with bread, fruit, plates, glasses and a bottle of wine. From the hallway outside came the heavy tread of the servants bringing Reyn's trunks and chests up the stairs. Crag's discarded Rain Wild garb was strewn across the bed. He tousled up his sweaty hair to cool himself, and then advanced on the table. "Wine?" he offered Reyn.
"It would be most welcome, little cousin," Reyn replied wryly.
Grag gave a half-laugh, half-groan. "I don't know how to thank you enough. I had not intended to come ashore in Bingtown at all. Yet here I am, not only on shore but back in my family's home, for however brief a time. If you had not been willing to aid me in this ruse, I fear I would still be cowering in the Kendry's hold."
Reyn accepted the glass of wine, deftly slipped it under his veil and drank. He gave a sigh of satisfaction. "Well," he balanced it, "if you had not extended me the hospitality of your home, I'd be standing outside the inn with my cases. The town is crawling with New Traders and the Satrap's minions. My rooms at the inn were long ago given away." Reyn paused uncomfortably. "With the harbor blockaded, and the inns full, I do not know how long I will have to beg hospitality of you."
"We are more than happy to welcome you both." These words came from Naria Tenira as she pushed into the room carrying a tureen of steaming soup. She kicked the door closed behind her and scowled at Grag as she set the soup down on the table. "It is a relief to have Grag at home, and know he is safe. Do have something hot to eat, Reyn," she invited him before rounding on her son and demanding, "Put that veil back on, Grag. And the gloves and hood. What if I had been a serving girl? I have told you, I trust no one. For as long as you are at home, we must carry on the pretense that you are a Khuprus from the Rain Wilds, guesting with us. Otherwise, you endanger your own life. Since we spirited you out of town, the offer for your capture has only gone up. Half the vandalism to New Trader businesses and the Satrap's ministries that has gone on in your absence has been attributed to you."
She turned from her son and began dishing up soup for Reyn as she continued, "You're near a hero to some of the young men in town. I fear it is all getting out of hand, and the Satrap's minister has made you the scapegoat for it. The Traders' sons dare one another to 'Tenira' a warehouse, and all know what is meant by that." She shook her head as she set food before Reyn. "No matter how quietly your sisters and I live, folk still turn and whisper when we go into town.
"You are not safe here, son. I wish your father were here. I declare, I am at my wit's end to know how to protect you." She pointed commandingly at the discarded veil.