Elfshadow - Elaine Cunningham [23]
"Well… So I've heard," responded Myrna, eyes demurely downcast.
The group hooted with laughter at her evasion. "Myrna was probably on stage that night," Regnet suggested, bringing about another chorus of mirth.
Not insulted in the least, Lady Callahanter responded with an evil grin that would have shamed a red dragon. She was always delighted to be the center of attention, and with a practiced gesture she reached up to pat her bright red hair. As she did, her outer robe fell conveniently open, revealing a translucent gown and a good deal more. Several jaws fell at the sudden display, and one guest noisily dropped his goblet.
Wearing a droll expression, Danilo leaned closer to Regnet. "Her timing rivals that of a bard, but can she sing?"
"Does it matter?" his crony responded dryly.
As were most of the guests, Myrna Callahanter was dressed to dazzle. Her blue-green gown was almost sheer, with clusters of sequins cleverly located to create an illusion of decency. The dress was cut low enough to reveal a lavish expanse of flesh. Multi-colored glitter had been glued in artful patterns to the skin of her arms, throat, and impressive curves. Even her hair-the raucous scarlet hue of Calimshite henna-was elaborately woven with gems and gilded ribbons. Nothing about Myrna was subtle; she had the reputation of devouring men with the speed and appetite of trolls in a butcher shop.
Making the most of the attention, Myrna heaved a theatrical sigh. Glancing around the circle through lowered lashes, she continued her litany of gossip. "And then there's that terrible scandal involving Jhessoba, the poor dear-"
"Myrna, love, I know rumor-mongering is your family trade, but must you talk shop at a party?"
Again the young nobles grinned in unison. The speaker was Galinda Raventree. She and Myrna were sworn foes, and their catty warfare could always be counted on to liven up things.
This evening, however, Galinda had another motive for curbing Myrna's tongue: Jhessoba's latest misfortune had political implications, which could lead-the gods forbid-to serious debate upon substantive issues. A devoted party-goer, Galinda had seen to catering this affair, and she was determined that it remain appropriately frivolous.
Danilo draped an arm around Myrna's shoulders, coming valiantly to her defense. "Really, Galinda, you must let Myrna talk. After two months with that dreary merchant train, I for one am longing for a bit of local gossip."
He gave Myrna a squeeze of encouragement. "Do go on."
"My hero," the gossip purred. She snuggled a bit closer, and one scarlet-tipped hand snaked up Danilo's chest to toy with his emerald pendant.
Noting the familiar, predatory expression in the noblewoman's eyes, Danilo wisely retreated. His arm came away faintly dusted with glitter, though, and he regarded his defiled garment with dismay. "I say, Myrna, you've got that damnable stuff all over me."
Several women in the group surreptitiously checked their escorts for similar telltale sparkles. Galinda Raventree took note of their suspicious scrutiny, and with great satisfaction she smirked into her wine goblet.
Incapable of being insulted, Myrna draped herself over Danilo again. "Do another trick," she begged him.
"Love to, but I've cast all the spells I've got for the day."
"Oh, no," she cooed, pouting up at him. "Not every one?"
"Well…" Danilo hesitated. "I have been working on some interesting spell modifications."
Regnet guffawed. "Another Snilloc's Snowball?"
"Now, there's gratitude for you," Danilo huffed in mock pique. He turned to the group, and with one ringed hand he languidly gestured toward Regnet. "About three months ago our over-dressed friend here managed to insult some very large, very drunk gentlemen in a tavern down in the Dock Ward. A small fight ensued, and of course I leapt to his aid. Using the Snilloc's Snowball spell, I conjured a magic missile-"
"A snowball?" sneered Wardon Agundar. His family dealt in the forging of swords, and he had little regard for lesser weapons.
"Well, not exactly,"