Rialla kept her slave face on with an effort as she slid discreetly among the guests. She probably shouldn’t have given Laeth such a bad time—most of the men were wearing coats that fit even tighter than Laeth’s.
It took her two trips through the crowded room before she heard his voice. She came upon him and slipped the whip quietly into his hand without interrupting his conversation.
She was careful to keep her gaze down so she lacked warning when a familiar hand wrapped itself around the back of her neck and the voice of her former master said, “Where on earth did you manage to find this one, Laeth? I have been looking for her for years.”
A thumb under her chin forced her gaze from the floor. He was taller than Laeth and stockier, though even after seven years it was muscle that filled the burgundy jacket he wore. His hair was still dark brown and tied neatly in a queue. The only sign of the passing years was the silvering of his narrow mustache.
“She was yours, Uncle?” Laeth’s voice was carefully neutral, though Rialla couldn’t see his face.
Uncle! She remembered the affection in Laeth’s voice when he spoke of his uncle, Lord Winterseine. It would seem that her former master had high connections indeed.
Rialla kept her body relaxed, and focused her eyes somewhere past her old master’s face. She took some comfort in knowing that her terror wouldn’t be immediately obvious. His hand almost touched her tattooed cheek. The spymaster’s mage had warned her that the illusion of the tattoo was visual only. If he slid his hand up farther he would be able to feel the scars.
The slave trainer released her neck, sliding his hand intimately to her shoulder, and Rialla fought back a sigh of relief. “Yes,” he said. “She was a dancer in a small establishment that I own in Kentar. I trained her myself. It’s been six or seven years since she escaped.” He smiled and his voice took on a softness that she knew too well. “I believe that she killed the guard when she did. It will be good to have her back. She is a very talented dancer.”
“Why, Uncle Iss, I didn’t know you trained slaves.” Laeth’s tone bordered on insulting.
“I train my own horses too,” his uncle replied. “I find the ones that others train pick up bad habits. It will take time to retrain her.”
Laeth ran a hand casually down her back in a move as possessive as his uncle’s hand on her shoulder. “I picked her up in the Alliance, near the sea, when I was guarding a merchant train across the wastes.”
There was just the right touch of amusement in Laeth’s voice. It would seem obvious that he was more interested in the abhorrence his uncle would feel at having a member of his family acting in such a menial capacity than in any claim that his uncle would have on his slave.
He continued in the same vein. “She was a gift for saving the merchant’s son after he was bitten by a snake. I am afraid that I cannot return her to you. Uncle Iss—it has been longer than five years since you lost her, after all. I find I have grown,” Laeth paused with a man-to-man look that conveyed a risque’ meaning to his words, “fond of her attentions. She knows just how to please me.” Laeth casually wrapped his hand around her neck, just as Isslic had. He pulled her away from Lord Winterseine’s grip and twisted her casually around for a kiss.
Rialla complied with Laeth’s demands, but it was his sorrow at discovering that it was his uncle who had hurt her, not passion, that slipped through the fraying defenses of her empathy. When the kiss was over, Rialla glanced unobtrusively at her former master.
Survival had forced her to read his face more easily than she could read a written page, and what she saw there worried her.
Laeth’s uncle smiled and said lightly, “Very well, Laeth, the consequences be on your head, though. Remember that she killed a guard when she escaped; keeping her might be dangerous.”
Laeth smiled back at his uncle and said, “She’ll do me no harm, Uncle Iss. She knows that there are worse masters to have.” He paused. The implication he’d just made might not have been intentional because he continued, “The merchant was free with his whip. If she isn’t a good girl, I’ll just send her back and she knows it.”
Winterseine had started to say something else when they were interrupted by a man who looked several years younger than Laeth. He was handsomer than either of the other men and taller, but he lacked their presence. His voice was a soft tenor when he spoke to Winterseine. “Tamas says that the rest of our party is here.”
Winterseine grunted, but Laeth stepped forward and reached for the younger man’s hand and shook it warmly. “Terran, it’s good to see you again. I see that Uncle Iss still has you organizing his travels.”
The young man laughed shyly and nodded his head. “I don’t know what I’d do if we stayed in one residence more than a week or so—perhaps get a full night’s sleep without worrying if some vital piece of luggage got left at the last rest stop.” Then he ducked his head and added, “It’s not that bad really; Father and I go mostly to the same places, so it’s more like having many homes rather than none.”
Since no one was looking at her, Rialla examined Terran’s face. She had forgotten about Winterseine’s son: he had been as unobtrusive then as he appeared now.
Winterseine laughed, though there was an edge to it, and patted his son on the shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without him. He makes all the travel arrangements and I just follow and enjoy the trip. Ah, it looks like people are starting to leave for the stables. Shall we join them?”
Laeth turned Rialla around as if she were a child and patted her rump familiarly. “Go clean the room and see that you find the other green slipper for your dancing costume. I want you to wear it to dinner. Check under the bed; I might have thrown it there last night. I want you ready to join me at dinner tonight.” Rialla walked away obediently, carefully controlling the instinctive urge to run.
In Laeth’s suite she stretched out on the bed and thought about Winterseine. It surprised her how angry Laeth had been. She would have been less surprised by an apologetic refusal to return her, though she found his unexpected defense warming. She closed her eyes and slept.
The sounds of the hunting party’s return awoke her, and she got up hastily and began to dress in the emerald-green dancing costume she’d purchased at Midge’s before leaving Sianim.
The green costume was surprisingly modest for being purchased from a brothel, quite suitable for a public dance. The veils covered her from hip to toe and from neck to wrist, almost concealing the skimpy top and bottom, allowing only faint glimpses of skin between the layers as Rialla moved.
She braided her hair into a neat crown that anchored still more veils that covered her face and neck, leaving only her exotically pale midriff bare. The miniature gold bells that were scattered through the costume were its most unusual feature, and had been a lucky find at the bazaar in Sianim.
She searched through her packs until she found a leather pouch containing the jewelry of a dancer. Viciously long, sharp, golden nails slipped over the ends of her fingers, held on by slender golden chains that attached to black leather wristbands. Similar gold chains dangled from black anklets. A much heavier chain wrapped around her waist and slid down until it rested on her hips.
She put on the silk slippers that matched the rest of her costume. Normally a dancer performed barefoot; but feet were considered erotic and unacceptable for an audience that would include noblewomen. Lastly, she donned the heavy black cloak that covered most of her costume.
Dressed, Rialla descended the stairs and walked out to the dining hall, where she’d been commanded to wait for Laeth. She stood quietly, head down, outwardly ignoring the looks that the servants gave her; hers was probably the first dancing costume they had ever seen. Slaves were expensive—only the very rich could afford them—and dancers were more expensive than most. Most dancers were owned by businessmen, who used them to bring in customers to their taverns and clubs; dancers owned for private use were rare.