"Who is that delectable man?" Simylra Lavartil inquired of the world at large, ruffling the furs that supported her bosom with an enthusiasm that threat shy;ened to shred them.
"That, madam," a servant murmured, as he bent to offer her a fresh drink of manycherries wine from a tray of full tallglasses, "is Dumathchess Ilchoas, as yet bereft of any noble title. . though I believe the ladies have given him one. They've taken to calling him 'Dauntless.'
Simylra thanked him profusely, and proved the fervor of her gratitude by seizing not one but three glasses from his tray. She drained them in rapid suc shy;cession before hurling herself back in her chair to stare at her cousin with a gasp of mingled satiation, longing, and delight.
"Dauntless!" she cried. "Oh, can the world hold such pleasures?"
"Evidently, madam, not for long," the servant mur shy;mured disapprovingly, as he surveyed the wreckage of his tray, and glided away without giving Cathlona an opportunity to work similar havoc upon it.
She stared sourly after the dwindling form of the ser shy;vant, and asked, "So just what did our Dauntless see, over that rail, to make him abandon us-nay, spurn us-in such unseemly haste?"
Simylra gathered her strength with a visible effort, and leaned forward again to gasp anew. "Why, it's the most daring costume yet!"
"Some lord's come naked?" Cathlona asked, raising her delicately plucked brows questioningly.
"No, cuz, not a lord, but a lady. . and not quite naked. She's wearing some black leather straps-" Simylra giggled and colored prettily, waving a few fin shy;gers before her mouth-"here and there, you know. They must bear some powerful spells; her disguise is nearly perfect."
"Her disguise?" Cathlona asked, not quite daring to lean forward again after her previous experience.
"A drow princess," Simylra breathed, her eyes glit shy;tering with envy as she watched the new arrival sweep across the entry hall with catlike grace. Every male eye below turned toward her. The lady was daring indeed, to come as an outlawed, evil being, wearing little more than a pair of gleaming black buttock-high boots, with silver heel spikes, and elbow-length gloves of the same material. Her breasts and loins were covered by little more than crisscrossing leather straps hung with spindle-shaped rock crystal stones, and a black ribbon encircled her throat. Her hair reached to the backs of her knees in a magnifi shy;cent, raven-dark sweep that was bound in a cage of silver chain ending in two delicate chains, little larger than glittering threads, that hung in loops attached to the spurs of her boots. Two tiny bells hung from pointed silver medallions glued to her nipples, and she wore a calm, crooked smile that broadened as the man known as Dauntless swept up to her and proffered his arm. As she turned to display herself to him, the two gaping cousins saw that a walnut-sized diamond bulged glitteringly from her navel, and that a tiny sculpted dagger hung point downward from the clus shy;ter of diamonds and silver scrollwork at her loins.
"Gods," Simylra murmured, swallowing noisily, "how can anyone compete with that?"
"Simmy," her cousin said grimly, "either get me a drink-a very large drink-or let me go home."
"May I say, my lady, what a splendid costume you chose to grace our eyes with, this night?" Dauntless offered gallantly, keeping his eyes carefully on hers.
Qilue laughed, low and musically. "You may indeed say so, Lord Dauntless. I find your own appearance very pleasing to the eyes."
Dauntless chuckled. "As I've said, good lady, I'm hardly a lord, but I am, I must confess, a man smitten. I would know your name."
In reply he got a light laugh and the murmured com shy;ment, as the devastatingly lovely lady leaned into his grasp, "I'd much rather remain a woman of mystery this night, if you don't mind."
"Ah, but I do," Dauntless said smoothly, handing her forward into a curtained alcove where a waiter was holding a tray of drinks ready. "A woman, did you say? You mean you're not really a drow princess?"
"A drow princess? No," Qilue replied, curling long fin shy;gers around a glass. "Magic can work wonders for the outward appearance, if deftly applied,"
"Your own spellcraft," Dauntless asked, leading her on into a shadowed bower, "or did someone else trans shy;form you?"
"Dauntless," the lips so close to his breathed, "that would be telling, now, wouldn't it?"
The Harper moved in close, until their noses were almost touching, and said, "I appreciate both your choice of such a daring disguise, and the skill with which it has been spun."
Her response was a low purr of laughter, and the huskily whispered words, "Go ahead, my lord, test it."
Dauntless looked into her eyes, found a welcome there, and extended his head forward until their lips met. . and clung, tongues darting a soft duel. . then tightened, mouth to mouth, bodies melting together.
When at last they broke apart to breathe, Qilue spun deftly out of his arms, and asked, "So, Dauntless: do I pass your test?"
"Several tests, and more, Lady of Mystery. Are you free for the rest of this evening-or any part of it?"
"Regretfully, no, my lord. Business brings me hither, and business must be my master this night. Had I free shy;dom to pursue pleasure, good Dauntless, rest assured that I'd be at your heels, and nowhere else, until dawn-and as long after as you might. . desire."
"Forgive my forwardness, lady," the Harper mur shy;mured, "but tell me, if your true shape returned to you at any time during such a pursuit as you've suggested, would I be aghast? Or disappointed?"
"That, my lord Dauntless, would depend entirely on your own tastes and inclinations," the dark elf said gently, "not, I believe, on whom I turned out to be. I'm not one of the well-known and well-wrinkled noble matrons of the city, gone out to play in a disguise. It is my fond hope that my true shape would not offend you overmuch. Now, if you'll excuse me? That business I mentioned, you understand."
"Of course," the handsome young man agreed, bowing deeply. "The pleasure has been mine."
"Well, someday perhaps 'twill be," she purred in reply, unhurriedly stroking the back of one of his hands, then putting her emptied wine glass into the other, before she stepped away.
Dauntless watched her lilt across the room beyond the bower, through an envious and watchful crowd, and his eyes slowly narrowed. Business here, now, would be what, exactly? What would a drow pretending to be a human wearing the spell shape of a drow be doing here at a revel for nobles and would-be nobles? She'd left suddenly, as if catching sight of someone she wanted to meet. Who?
Dauntless faded in behind a potted fern as the Lady of Mystery turned at the far end of the room to look back, almost challengingly. Gods, but her lips had been inviting.
He was doomed to spend most of the next hour acting innocent and unobtrusive, trying to stay in the background but within sight of the drow princess as she glided enthusiastically around the revel, letting many men and women test the efficacy of her costume. . often, Dauntless was sure-though she never once looked in his direction-just to silently tease him.
It wasn't until the end of the second hour, and fre shy;quent subterfuges of being either drunk or about to be sick to escape the clutches of enthusiastic matron after smitten matron, that Dauntless thought he saw the guest that his drow princess was shadowing. He wasn't sure until that person-a buxom lady in a plain-fronted mauve gown with shoulder ruffles-moved to a spiral stair masquerading as a large plant stand in one corner of the room, and began to climb it.
The Lady of Mystery moved purposefully, too. She slipped into a dark alcove where a beaded curtain hid her from public view for, it seemed, just long enough. By the time Dauntless drifted up to it, it was empty. The casements of its lone window stood open to the night.