Well down behind it she could just see a Leif-shaped bulge in the tapestry. She assumed he could sense her here as well. He was carefully standing where the dais and tapestry would combine to keep anyone from seeing his feet. She moved down to join him.
“You see him out there?” she said.
“Huh — oh, it’s you. What?” Leif muttered.
“The mayor of the town,” she said. “Buttering up the dignitaries. Literally.”
“Yeah.”
“Look, get this off me for now. This buzzing is a nuisance. I can’t hear.”
“It’s spell artifact,” Leif said, and instantly it went away as he relaxed the spell. “No way to get rid of it without getting rid of the spell, too. If you insist—”
“Not a chance,” Megan said hurriedly. “I’m way underdressed for this crowd. And as for you, you look like you slept in a tree. Did you know that there’s straw sticking out of your wizard’s hat?”
“It’s for atmosphere,” Leif said, sounding slightly injured. “A hedge-wizard has to look like he’s been in a hedge recently.”
Megan snickered, for Leif had that aspect of his persona handled. “I’m going out once more,” she said. “But this is really a pain. You can make yourself invisible again if you want, but I’m tempted to mug one of the serving-women and take her clothes and just walk around with a wine pitcher. It’d be easier to hear.”
Leif raised his eyebrows. “It’s your call. Anything yet?”
“Nothing but a suggestion that anyone we’d be interested in hearing is probably somewhere else.”
Leif grunted. “I guess that’s no surprise. Still…I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes. You want the spell, or are you really going to mug that wench?”
She sighed. “The spell.” A moment later the buzzing in her ears was back, and Leif was nowhere in sight. “Thanks. See you in a bit.”
The tapestry billowed out slightly and he was gone. Megan went out the other side, watching most carefully where she walked. Invisibility was useful, but you had to have eyes in the back of your head, never knowing from what unexpected direction someone might approach, and it was very strange walking around without being able to see your feet.
She made for the buffet table again, and spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes becoming very adept at getting close to the food and the conversations without banging into anyone or getting banged into herself. She even started stealing food, very circumspectly. The salmon was very good, which was nice, since she was partial to it.
“—just about finished here, I think,” said a very simply dressed man in slashed and purfled midnight blue.
The elderly woman he was talking to, with beautiful silvery hair pulled back tight, wearing an ornate dress in black and silver, said, “Well, I suspect the place’s fate will be sorted out within a few days, for better or worse. A pity. I kind of liked it as a pocket democracy. But someone will make a bid — probably as a result of the action coming on the Marches.”
“What, the north Marches? So close? And so soon? I would have thought this business would drag on for a few more weeks, at least.”
The elderly lady looked around her before replying. No one else was close — or seemed close — and she lowered her voice and said, “Elblai has something up her sleeve, I think. I saw her going upstairs to talk to Raist…and without the man himself here, Raist would be doing the negotiating.”
“Argath’s not here?”
“He left about an hour ago — I saw him myself. In a hurry, too. I think things may be coming to a boil…something going on with his armies that he needs that world-famous charisma to handle.”
“Leaving Raist Wry-mind to sort out the details?”
“I don’t think Raist will be doing much sorting.” The old woman chuckled. “My money’s on Elblai….”
They moved away. Megan looked at the tapestry behind the empty chair, saw it flutter, swallowed, and headed that way.
Behind the tapestry, Leif was scratching. “The itch does really get to you,” he muttered.
“I wish you hadn’t mentioned that,” Megan said, suddenly feeling like a walking ad for an anti-flea preparation. “Look, I just heard something germane. Argath’s not here.”
“He’s not?” Leif paused, and then took a breath and started softly muttering something heartfelt in a language that Megan suspected was Nordic. The muttering did not sound like prayers.
“Listen, just put a sock in it for a moment, all right?” Megan said.
“All those miles wasted—”
“Don’t start cheapskating on me now, Leif. There’s no time for it. You know who is here?”
“Who?”
“Elblai.”
He blinked at that. “That Elblai?”
“The same. She’s upstairs somewhere, having a quiet talk with one of Argath’s people, so I hear.”
“Zaffermets,” Leif said. “Remember what that guy back in the tavern was saying—”
“Yes, and I’m not going to discuss it any further unless you tell me what language zaffermets is! I think you make some of these words up just to impress people. It’s not like you don’t already speak umpty-ump languages as it is.”
“It’s Romansch,” Leif said idly, looking around him. “Sursilvan dialect, I think. Look, I think I can manage one more bout of the no-see-um spell.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you want to go eavesdrop on Elblai, or don’t you?”
“Ohh…” Megan was deep in exasperation. “Come on…we’ve got to find them.”
“Shouldn’t be hard. Staying invisible, though—”
“Don’t let it slip,” Megan said, “whatever you do. Come on, the stairs are this way. We’ll hug the wall and try not to run into each other, okay?”
The stairs were guarded, but that was no obstacle to Megan and Leif. The guards, though alert, were not invisibility-sensitive, and were in no position to guard against what they couldn’t see or hear. Megan and Leif stole up behind them and went silently up the stairs, which followed the left wall up to the second floor. Leif concentrated as best he could on holding the invisibility spell in place. He had paid for it, all right, as had Megan, but if you were careless, you could drop it, just as you might drop and break something expensive that you’d bought. And in this case, dropping the spell could be just as costly.
The second floor was open-plan, one big room with carved or fabric-covered screens positioned here and there in the northern fashion, to make temporary privacy for anyone using the space. More thick tapestries were positioned around the walls to cut the drafts from the slit-windows. Off to one side, Elblai sat in a large, ornate chair positioned in front of a carved screen, and a man sat on a smaller chair in front of her. He was a small man, slender, short-haired and short-bearded, dressed in dark clothes.
Leif moved cautiously in that direction, staying very close to the wall. He could hear the soft sounds of Megan following behind him. The lighting up here was subdued, and mostly in the middle of the room, from a pair of oil lamps on intricately wrought metal stands.
Leif decided not to go any closer than ten feet or so, and flattened himself against the tapestry, being careful not to move it. He could feel a soft flutter in the wool as Megan did the same, and they both spent a moment examining Elblai. She’s worth looking at, Leif thought: fiftyish, a little on the stocky side, with close-cropped silvery-blond hair and a face rather at odds with the housewifely body. She had eyes that were set a little slanted, giving her face a slightly exotic look, but her eyes were large, and thoughtful, and the deepest blue that Leif could remember seeing — almost a violet color. She looked like somebody’s grandmother…but a grandmother sitting comfortably with a sword in one hand, point down on the stone floor, and wearing a beautiful glittering shirt of scale mail over a long padded silk tunic the color of the very tip of a candle flame. Her well-worn boots were up on a hassock in front of her chair, and she sat back in the chair holding her sword with one hand resting on the hilts, tilting it a little to one side, a little to the other, in a slow rocking motion as she talked.