She gave him a doubtful glance, but continued, “Well, let’s see ... By now both the gang and the guards know they’re looking for three men and a woman: two humans and two elves, one Dark, one White. Don’t have to worry about disguising Tich’ki.”
The fairy stretched her wings. “Right. I can always shrink and hide in your hair, the way we did when we were getting out of Smithian.”
“But it’s hard to hide elves ....”
“Not too easy to disguise such a ... charmingly endowed woman, either,” Naitachal added gallantly.
Lydia raised a brow. “Flattery from a Dark Elf?”
His smile was wry. “It does happen.” ““Yes, yes, I know you’re full of surprises,” Kevin interrupted. “But can we please get back to the subject?”
‘Jealous?” Tich’ki prodded.
“No! I just don’t want to spend the rest of my life in a Westerin prison. Or a Westerin graveyard, either’”
“Right.” Lydia returned to her musing. “All right. We agree that it’s hard to disguise elves.”
Naitachal held up a hand. “To disguise male elves ...” he corrected slowly. “Particularly serious, combative types.” He turned to look at Eliathanis, who narrowed his eyes.
“I don’t think I like what you’re thinking.”
Naitachal shrugged. “You’re the one who was .., interrogating the dancing girls. I’m sure they’d be happy to help their dear elfy-welty.”
“They didn’t call me that! And I can’t—I won’t ...”
The Dark Elf smiled alarmingly. “You can. You will. They did. Listen to me, my friends. I think we’re about to find a way out of Westerin!”
Kevin squirmed uncomfortably in the saddle of the riding mule, trying to get the yards and yards of gauzy, gaudy skirts to spread out properly, grimly trying to ignore the pretty chiming of little silver bells every time he moved.
“Don’t squirm, dear,” Lydia cooed. “It tears threads.”
Kevin glared at her. The warrior was a sugar-sweet confection, her tanned face softened with powder and paint, her lithe, muscular form disguised by a frilly bodice and layer after layer of gauzy skirts in a dozen shades of pink. A silky cloak of dusty rose shot through with gold threads was thrown over the whole thing, her black curls—and Tich’ki—hidden under its cowl. Yes, but at least she’s a woman! I feel like an idiot.
What made it worse was that he knew he looked rather alarmingly like a girl in all this frippery: a slightly scrawny one, perhaps, a bit too athletic even for a dancer, but a girl nevertheless. The bardling rubbed a reflexive hand over his chin, not sure whether to be discouraged or glad right now that at almost sixteen he still didn’t need to shave very often. Smooth cheeks would help the illusion.
If only the illusion wasn’t quite so good!
Eliathanis, riding beside Naitachal, was plainly feeling the same way, sitting his mule in silent misery. Kevin bit back a laugh. What a pretty girl the White Elf made!
Both elves were, of course, slim and beardless as all their kind, and despite Eliathanis’ martial calling, their long, silky hair and elegant, fine-boned faces made it quite easy for them to pass as women. Naitachal’s dark skin had been lightened to a more nondescript tan with judicious use of powder, making him look more like a half-elven hybrid than a perilous Dark Elf. Unlike the unhappy Eliathanis, he seemed to be having a wonderful time.
After all, Kevin mused, how often does a necromancer get a chance to act silly?
It had been Eliathanis’ dancing girls, of course, who had lent them all this gear, with the understanding that it would be left for the dancers to gather up again outside the walls. The dancers, the bardling decided, were definitely getting the better of the deal, winding up with what was left of Lydia’s not quite honestly gained coins as well as getting their gear back.
Well, actually, it was Councilman Selden who was paying for the whole thing. In a manner of speaking, anyhow.
Kevin censed suddenly. There to one side stood Empty Eyes, the elven leader of the street gang.
“Gently,” Naitachal murmured. “You’re a harmless dancing girl, that’s all you are.” The Dark Elf straightened slightly, startled, then chuckled. “Well now, what do you know?” he continued softly. “Our disguises really do work! Did you feel that slight tingling just now?”
“Yes.”
“That dissipated shame of an elf tried casting a Dispel Magic spell on us!”
Naitachal leaned sideways in the saddle to give Empty Eyes a flirtatious wink and a blown kiss—Kevin exploded into laughter, just in time managing to turn it into girlish titterings.
“L-look at his face! He—he—he doesn’t know what hit him!”
Naitachal swept back his silky hair with a toss of his head. “Too skinny for my taste!” he declared in a light tenor so unlike his usual baritone that Kevin burst into laughter all over again.
Eliathanis shot the Dark Elf a dour glance. “Stop that! Show some—some self-control!”
Naitachal grinned. “Loosen up, dear! You look ravishing.”
“Leave me alone, will you? Or are you really enjoying this?”
The Dark Elf’s grin widened. “Of course I am! Come now, cousin-elf, where’s the harm in it? It’s rather fun to play pretend!”
Eliathanis only growled. Kevin wiped his eyes, trying not to smear his makeup, hearing Tich’ki, there in Lydia’s hair, tittering so hard she was having trouble catching her breath.
“Straighten up, dears,” Lydia cooed. “Here are the guards. Look pretty, now!”
Kevin tensed all over again, seeing the men’s grimfaced competence, the weapons never far from their hands, hearing the guards muttering something about “Selden” and “Those thieves aren’t going to get past us.” Sure, their disguise had been good enough Co fool Empty Eyes, who had probably been drunk or half-drugged anyhow. But these were sharp-eyed professionals. Could it possibly fool them as well?
Apparently it could. “Look at the girl in pink,” one said, nudging another. “Bet she’d warm a cold night!”
“Warm it, hell, she’d set it on fire!”
“The one next to her’s not bad, either.” Mortified, Kevin realized they were discussing him now.
“Awfully stringy,” someone muttered.
“But there’s something to be said for those acrobatic types!” The guard who’d first spoken leered up at the bardling. “Come on, sweetie, give us a kiss for the road.”
Feeling tike a prize idiot, Kevin managed to work his lips into what he hoped was a flirtatious smile. To his horror, the guard reached up, trying to pull his head down. Before the bardling could panic, Naitachal leaned down to whisper conspiratorially:
“You don’t want to kiss her.”
“Oh, I don’t, do I?”
“Heavens, no! The last man she kissed got so hot and worked up he followed her for days. We finally had to throw him in a lake to cool him off. You would not have believed the steam!”
All the guards laughed. “Bet you could raise some steam,” one of them shouted.
“Oh, darling, you wouldn’t believe what 1 can do!” Naitachal gave them all a dazzling smile—”My, my, my, what handsome fellows you all are! What a shame we have to leave just now.” The very essence of a delighted dancing girl, the Dark Elf laughed and simpered and blew kisses at them all—Only Kevin caught the faint hint of contempt flickering in the kohl-rimmed blue eyes. “Now, we really must say good-bye,” Naitachal said, pretending to pout—”We have such a long way to go!”