The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [57]
For some days messages from Malina had been arriving at Alaena’s house. Yes, the wizard would perform; yes, he did do fortunes; by the way, Malina was going to wear a blue dress, so if Alaena would wear another color, it would be sweet. The day before the party, the mistress sent Rhodry down to the market to refill a vial with her usual perfume. As he made his way through the booths, he heard a lot of people talking about the Great Krysello and his wondrous show.
“Hanged if I know how he docs it,” the perfumer said. “He has a maidservant, though, who seems to be more a partner than a slave, and two big braziers belching incense. He’s got to be using chemicals.”
“I’m sure of it,” said the fruit seller in the next stall. “You can find some strange things for sale if you go to the big markets on the coast, they say. It’s really amazing, though, to see him shoot blue flames right out of his fingertips. It’s got to be a pretty risky process when you think about it.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” Rhodry said. “He must be doing pretty well for himself.”
“Oh, by the Wave-father’s beard! How well is he doing? Him and his barbarian girl are staying at the Inn of the Seven Lamps, that’s how well!”
Properly impressed, Rhodry whistled under his breath, then happened to glance down to see a gray gnome a few feet away. The little creature was staring at him, and when he moved away, it followed, hesitantly at first, then with a rush to grab the hem of his tunic and dance up and down. Rhodry glanced around, saw no one looking his way, and hunkered down on the pretense of adjusting the ties of his sandals.
“You look familiar, sure enough, little brother. Didn’t I last see you in Deverry? I don’t remember where, though.”
The gnome clutched its head in distress, then disappeared.
At sunset on the night of the party Rhodry escorted his lady’s litter to Malina’s compound. Five other litters were already there, with their bearers hunkered down beside them under the watchful eye of Malina’s gatekeeper and one of her footmen. Although Rhodry would have preferred staying with them and away from the prying eyes of society women, Alaena ordered him to come inside with her. Malina had outdone herself for the party. All through her lush garden tiny oil lamps glittered, and clusters of braided ribands augmented the last flowers of the season. Here and there people were wandering around, talking and laughing, or were already seated on little benches near an improvised stage, hung with red-and-gold banners, where two brass braziers stood in readiness. When he noticed more than a few of the guests giving him a good looking-over, Rhodry became profoundly nervous, wondering if his mistress would insist on his ecorting her like a free man. As they passed a group of the curious, though, she made a point of telling him, in a clear and carrying voice, that he was to go help Malina’s cook with the dinner. Before she could contradict herself, Rhodry went straight to the refuge of the slaves’ quarters.
The kitchen was a madhouse fogged with delicious-smelling steam. In one corner two saves were frantically rolling out rounds of bread and slapping them onto a crackling-hot bakestone; at the hearth huge pots of spiced vegetables simmered while the cook rushed back and forth to stir them, tasting one pot here, adding something to another there, and yelling orders over her shoulder the whole while. Other slaves were chopping fruit, filling condiment bowls, sugaring little cakes and arranging nuts and sweetmeats on platters. Just outside he could see a couple of men roasting a whole hog at an open fire. The cook glanced at Rhodry, pushed sweaty hair up off her forehead, and pointed to a four-foot-high amphora near the door.
“The dippers are on that little shelf. Take the wine out to the serving table. The cups are already there.”
With the help of a young boy, Rhodry wrestled the amphora outside and got its pointed bottom planted in a flower bed near the table. Guests promptly appeared, holding out eager hands.