The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [4]
"Lady Isabeau! I thought you had gone on with the others."
"Oh, pooh," the woman proclaimed, packing so much drama into that small disclaimer that Lilly could almost see the artful pout, the dismissing little wave of a jeweled hand. "Cowards, all of them! Boasting of the dangers around them, while they ride in closed carriages with guards and drivers. But you!" Here the sultry voice dipped almost to a purr. "You alone are man enough to challenge the night."
There was a world of meaning in the woman's words. A bright, unmistakable flame leaped in the man's eyes. The spark was quickly quenched by the return of his distinctly pinched expression.
Lilly smirked as she discerned the true reason for the man's digression. He would not be the first to seek the comfort of a dark alley after a night's hard drinking. No doubt he intended to take care of business, then hail down his comrades' carriage when it turned the corner at Sail Street. Lady Isabeau's arrival had thwarted his design, and he looked deeply torn between the demands of nature and the teasing promise in the noblewoman's words.
Necessity won out. "Even the main streets are dangerous," Maurice cautioned the lady. "These alleys can be deadly. I must insist that you go back with the others."
But the dainty click of Isabeau's slippers came steadily closer. "I am not afraid. You will protect me, no?"
No, Lilly answered silently and emphatically. Two pigeons were nearly as easy to pluck as one-not for a simple pickpocket like herself, of course, but hadn't the silly wench heard tell that many Dock Ward thieves were willing to cut more than purse strings? The woman came into view, and Lilly forgot her scorn.
Lady Isabeau was very attractive, with a dark, exotic beauty that was a perfect match for her voice. Thick, glossy black hair was coiled artfully around her shapely head, with enough length left over to fashion ringlets that spilled over her shoulders. Her eyes were large and velvety brown, her nose an aristocratic arc, her lips full and curved in invitation. Lavish curves tested the resolve of the laces binding her deep red gown, and an embroidered girdle decorated with precious stones encircled her narrow waist. Lilly sighed in profound envy.
Lady Isabeau quirked an ebony brow. For one heart-stopping moment, Lilly thought the noblewoman had heard her, but the woman's eyes remained constant in their admiration of the heroic Maurice, never so much as flickering toward Lilly's hiding place.
"If you say the danger is too great, then it must be so." Isabeau tucked herself under the man's arm. "You would not leave me here alone, surely?"
"I will see you safely to Sail Street, then I must be on my way," he said grandly. "Certain matters cannot await the light of day." His tone hinted at clandestine meetings, honor challenges, maidens languishing in prison towers.
Lilly lifted a hand to her lips to keep her smirk from bubbling into laughter.
Isabeau nodded, then produced a small silver flask from the folds of her skirts. "As you say. Let us at least share a last drink?"
The nobleman accepted the flask and tipped it up, and together they walked beyond the range of Lilly's vision. The thief waited until all was silent. Then she ventured out, creeping stealthily toward the main street.
She almost stepped on Maurice. He lay sprawled at the end of the alley, face down, just beyond the reach of the lamplight's dim circle. His fine clothing was stained with strong-smelling spirits, but Lilly doubted he had succumbed to drink. She cautiously stooped and touched her fingers to the nobleman's neck. A thin but steady pulse leaped beneath her fingers. Curious, she smoothed her hand back through the man's hair and inquired around for an explanation to his current state. A small knot was forming at the base of his skull. He would awaken with a fierce headache-and, of course, without his purse.
Lilly rose to her feet, angry now. Noble or common,