Micum rose, taking out his pipe and tobacco pouch. “I think I’ll go help Illia keep the damage to a minimum.”
As much as Alec had complained, by the time the guests started arriving that evening he was the very model of a noble young host. He wore his embroidered violet coat impeccably, as he did the fancy amethyst earring dangling from his right earlobe. With his long blond hair loose over his shoulders, he looked a bit older than usual. Or perhaps it was his demeanor. Glancing sidelong at his talimenios, Seregil-in sea green and gold tonight-felt a familiar tug of pride. When Alec had first come to Rhiminee he’d been charmingly-and sometimes dangerously-naive and unworldly. The naivete was long gone, of course, but there was still a freshness about him that drew people, and made many underestimate him in the most convenient ways, just as they dismissed Seregil as a rich young wastrel-charming and entertaining, to be sure, and always a generous host, even in these hard times, but a wastrel nonetheless.
“My face is beginning to hurt with all this smiling,” Alec muttered as they greeted the steady stream of guests.
Stationed at the salon door in his best blue coat, silver buttons
aglow in the candlelight, Runcer announced each noble as they arrived.
A good many of them were young lords and ladies Seregil and Alec gambled and drank with, including Count Selin, who arrived early and caught Alec in a friendly, one-armed hug as he balanced on his elaborately carved and gilded crutch.
The other guests were interspersed with wealthy merchants who oversaw Seregil’s many and varied trade investments. There were also poets, artists, and even a few of the most brilliant male and female courtesans from the Street of Lights houses.
“How many did you invite?” Alec whispered to Seregil as guests continued to arrive.
“Counting the Cavishes? Only a hundred or so, give or take.”
“Lord Thero of Rhiminee,” Runcer intoned gravely. “Wizard of the Second Order of the Third Oreska.”
The abbreviated name still sounded strange to Seregil. For centuries, ever since one of the Skalan queens had taken one of Seregil’s great-uncles as consort, the court had used the ’faie fashion of lengthy patronymics and matronymics. Despite the fact that Aurenen was supplying horses and arms to Queen Phoria, she had put an end to that, reverting to “proper” Skalan nomenclature and short hair for men. The latter was fashion rather than law, of course, so Seregil and Alec, as well as a good many others, had left theirs long in silent protest.
Lady Kylith was the next to arrive, accompanied by her niece Ysmay and the handsome auburn-haired actor from the Basket Street theater, resplendent now in black and silver. It appeared the man had wasted no time in spending their money.
“You remember Master Atre, don’t you?” Kylith said as she kissed each of them.
The actor bowed deeply. “I hope I give no offense, my lords, with my humble presence.”
“Great artists are always welcome here,” Seregil assured him. “I think you’ll find yourself in good company.”
“I hope you will visit our theater again, my lords,” Atre said. When he smiled, the corners of his dark blue eyes tilted up in the most engaging way. A touch of cosmetics there? Or perhaps it wasn’t necessary. Atre’s skin was smooth, his eyes bright with youth. A naturally handsome man.
“We have several other plays, depending on the night,” Atre was saying.
“If Seregil can be coaxed from the bakshitables,” Kylith said, lazily waving a fan in one hand. “Oh, but I see the delightful Lady Kari is here!” Kylith went off to greet her friend with Atre in tow.
Duke Malthus entered with his wife, Ania, and they both hugged Alec warmly.
“We haven’t seen nearly enough of you this summer!” Ania exclaimed as Malthus carried their silk-wrapped gift to a table already groaning with them.
“I couldn’t agree more, dear lady,” Seregil replied.
“I’m off to our summer villa in a few days. Malthus must stay and work, of course, but you two should come with me.”
“I will consult our calendar,” Seregil promised.
Their friend, Eirual-yet another of Seregil’s past lovers-who owned one of the most elegant pink-lantern brothels in the Street of Lights, swept in soon after with several of her protegees. The queen had set the fashion for higher necklines. Eirual and her courtesans led the fashion and flouted it all at once; their gowns featured bodices made of colorful jeweled lace and high lacy collars, but sheer enough to still offer a tantalizing hint of the assets beneath.
Eirual was half Zengati, and her exotic beauty had made her fortune in the Street. But it wasn’t only her looks; she enjoyed life to the fullest and made sure those around her did, too. The lovely Myrhichia was with her, her dark, elaborately coiffed hair sparkling with sapphire hairpins.
“My darlings!” Eirual cried, kissing them both soundly. “Why in the names of all the Four don’t you have a country house to whisk me away to?”
“And rusticate away from the delights of the city?” Seregil shuddered. “I wouldn’t last a week!”
“And yet you’re always disappearing.” Lady Syllia and her
current lover, the celebrated actress Lavinis, had come up behind Eirual and stood there, smirking at Seregil. Seregil could smell wine on their breath from here. “Where doyou two get off to, anyway?”
“Other cities, I assure you,” Seregil said with a laugh. “I have all my ventures to oversee. Not all of us were born to fortunes.”
Seregil and Alec’s occasional disappearances did cause talk, but over the years Seregil had gotten very good at spinning yarns boring enough that his listeners seldom asked for details, and Alec had easily picked up the habit.
As more guests arrived, Seregil waved to the musicians and they struck up a lively tune, not for dancing yet, just to keep things festive. Everyone was gravitating toward the well-laden tables at the far end of the room, which featured more than a few contraband delicacies shipped in from Aurenen and Zengat. Illia and the boys had already found playmates and disappeared into the garden.
As Alec mingled with his guests, he found Thero gazing around with a rather odd expression.
“What’s wrong?” Alec asked.
“Nothing, I just thought I felt-No, it’s nothing. Wonderful party, Alec.”
“I’m glad you’re here. And guess who else is?”
“I have no idea.”
“Atre, the Mycenian actor we told you about!” Alec looked around for Atre. “I don’t see him, but he’s here somewhere. If I find him I’ll introduce you.”
Thero looked less than enthused at the idea.
“And you aregoing to come to the theater with us,” Alec chided. “You spend too much time up in that tower of yours.”
“I will, at some point. I’m very busy.”
Alec grinned. “So you’re always saying. Well, I’m glad you came tonight.”
Seregil appeared out of the crowd and took Alec’s arm. “Time to begin, tali. It’s up to you to do the honors.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Thero,” Alec said as Seregil led him
away to the feast. “And I’m holding you to going to the theater-”
But the wizard had already disappeared into the crowd, no doubt to avoid making any promises.
There was no sign of the summer’s deprivations here. Stacks of flat parsley loaves were piled on the table beside platters of cold sliced duck, boiled lobsters, butter fish, and bowls of little whelks in vinegar, as well as roasted vegetables with lemon sauce. Fruit tarts and spun sugar animals crowded another table. Anat, the young scullion, was stationed there, guarding the food from the hounds, who were lurking among the guests, yellow eyes fixed hungrily on the food.
Alec picked up a loaf of bread and tore it in two, then poured the libation to the Four, signaling the beginning of the feast.
When the meal was done and the sweet wine was being passed, there were gifts to be opened and admired-gloves, rings, earrings, expensive gaming stones, wines, embroidered handkerchiefs from several young ladies, and the like. Given the current privations, much of it was probably secondhand. Alec lingered just long enough over each one, and then it was time for magic and dancing.