"You know I don't give away trade secrets, Tazi," he replied, calling her by a nickname only a handful used. "My mother would never forgive me," he added seriously.
Always aware of how somber he could be in public, Tazi picked up the pace of their dance and tried to lighten his mood. "And just what are you supposed to be this evening, all dressed in black," she asked.
"I am simply part of the shadows," was all he would say.
Seeing that she was getting no where, Tazi broke away from his arms and pirouetted in front of him. "What do you think I am, then?"
Steorf escorted Tazi away from the dance floor and then stared at her for a minute. The dress she wore was not a popular style. She had started of late, he had noticed, to wear Cormyrean fashions. The blood-red dress was made from some sumptuous, velvety material and clung to her suggestively. Her flat slippers peeped out from under the loose, full skirt. The tight sleeves accentuated her strong, slim arms and the fitted gold breastpiece accentuated more. Covering her delicate face was an elaborate mask of long, black feathers that blended into her short, equally black locks.
"I would say you are some kind of exotic bird, escaped from the Hulorn's Hunting Garden," he said and then added after a glance, "or you are the bane of your mother's existence." Steorf nodded toward the fuming matriarch of the Uskevren standing some paces distant and watching them closely.
Tazi glanced quickly at her mother and then turned away. "Oh, she's always angry. I can't seem to do anything right in her eyes."
"Is she still furious about your hair?" he asked.
"Well," Tazi began, justifying herself, "this length suites me better, and long hair certainly does not go well with Cormyrean dress." She stepped back and curtsied slightly once more.
"Nor does it go well with some of your other activities," Steorf observed slyly.
She was about to shoot back with an angry retort, but fell silent as her mother approached.
"Good even to you, young mage," the matriarch saluted Steorf politely. "Are you enjoying yourself this celebration night?"
Steorf bowed deeply and replied, "I am, Madame Shamur. Once again the Uskevren have hosted a most successful fete. I am honored to be counted amongst your guests."
"It seems that your mother, Elaine, is not present," the ash blonde noticed sadly after scanning the hall.
"No, milady. My mother asked me to carry her regrets."
"Well," Shamur offered graciously, "I am sure the premier mage of Selgaunt does not always have the luxury of free time." She turned her steel gray eyes toward her daughter at that last remark. "Speaking of free time, Thazienne, have you seen Talbot this evening?"
"I don't think my big 'little' brother has gotten back from his hunting trip yet. What's wrong, Mother? Has he ruined some secret plan of yours? Did you have a bevy of potential wives to parade past him tonight and now he's missing the show?"
Shamur did not rise to the bait.
"I was a touch concerned," she replied quietly. Before Tazi could add anything else, Shamur continued in a more firm voice, "I wouldn't worry your pretty little head about it." She stepped closer to her daughter and ostensibly straightened some part of Tazi's costume. "I don't suppose you worry about much, though. You don't have to." She stepped back in a crinkle of blue and silver satin. "Enjoy yourselves tonight and see that you share your attentions with some of our other guests, dear Thazienne." She began to walk away from the two.
Angry at her mother's jab, Tazi called out, "Oh, Mother? I love your dress. The silver really brings out the warmth in your eyes." Shamur smiled stiffly at her before continuing to walk away.
"Do you have to do that," Steorf asked as soon as Shamur was out of earshot. "I think she was genuinely worried about your brother."
Tazi dismissed his concern. "I'm sure Talbot stretched out his trip just to avoid this evening, the lucky dog. As for my mother, she just brings the worst out of me. That could be me in a few years, you know," she exclaimed after a brief moment. Steorf took a step closer.
"Never in a thousand years could that be you," he whispered. She smiled up into his face, and he took another step closer.
"Is this a private conversation, or can anyone join in," interrupted a richly, almost foppishly dressed red-haired elf. His amethyst-hued velvet doublet was covered with gold embroidery and the sleeves were slashed to reveal tissue thin undersleeves of lavender silk. His leather boots announced their newness with every squeaky step he took. Unlike many of the other guests, he wore no mask at all.
Steorf stiffened at his approach, but Tazi could only snicker.
"It seems," she replied, "that I have precious little privacy from people tonight. Please, join us," Tazi offered solicitously. The elf immediately stepped past Steorf as though he had been cloaked and stood close to Tazi. He reached for her hand and gallantly touched it to his lips.
"Sweet Ebeian, always the gentleman." She curtsied deeply, but noticed Steorf's discomfort. She didn't want to see these two start to bicker tonight, so she tried to defuse the situation. "Steorf, would you mind finding me some wine," she asked innocently. "All the dancing we've done has given me a terrible thirst."
"Yes, dear boy," Ebeian dismissed him. "See if you can scare us up some refreshments." Choosing not to notice Steorf's fuming, Ebeian turned all his attention to Tazi. She looked past his shoulder, smiled at Steorf and mouthed the word "please."
"I'd be more than happy to find a full vat for Ebeian and help him into it headfirst," Steorf mumbled to himself. He almost smiled at that image and went off in search of something to drink.
"How radiant you look in that ankle-length red gown." Ebeian used the comment as an excuse to reach over and capture Tazi's hands in his own jeweled ones. "The tight sleeves emphasize your slender arms and, well, that gold breastpiece…" His voice trailed off suggestively. "Of everyone in the room, I think only your mother does not appreciate your taste for Cormyrean fashion."
"There's much that my mother does not appreciate," Tazi replied, letting her hands rest in Ebeian's. "But I do not dress to please her."
"It's a good thing you don't. You would be a miserable failure," he said, laughing.
Tazi extricated her gloved hands from his. "What brings you out this evening? When we last spoke, you mentioned other plans."
"Plans change, pretty one," he answered. "You know how that works." He leaned forward and discreetly slipped his hand along the gold breastpiece Tazi wore. Instantly, she grabbed his thin hand and bent it back.
"You forget yourself this evening, Ebeian," Tazi warned him.
"Do I?" He looked at her meaningfully.
"You'll pay for your familiarity one day," Tazi threatened lightly.
"Sooner or later," he countered, "we all pay, Thazienne."
Before Tazi could say anything else, Steorf returned, a servant in tow carrying a tray laden with an assortment of drinks and snacks. He did not miss the grip Tazi had had on Ebeian's wrist, but he said nothing. The three selected glasses of wine, and Tazi and Steorf waited while Ebeian picked through the food until he discovered a satisfactory morsel to nibble on.
"I'm surprised," Ebian began, after dabbing a silken scarf at the corner of his mouth, "to see that you are still here this evening, Thazienne. Normally you do not grace these events for very long."
"Observant of you, Ebeian. I'm actually searching for someone."
"It's not me," Ebeian asked in mock horror, clutching at his heart. "I'm shattered." The ploy worked. Tazi broke up into chuckles and lightly slapped his arm.
"Do you recall the small party my family hosted a few nights back," she asked.