"I understand your passion for this, Vambran, I really do. But I'm not sure you can do anything about it. I wish there were; maybe we'd both feel better afterward."
"There's something else," Vambran said, unwilling to let it go. "Em thinks she recognized the woman, though she can't remember from where. And," he added, wondering if his uncle would approve of what he was about to suggest, "the suspicious guards kept something of Em's, a dagger I'd given her and which they confiscated last night. I think I can track them down if I needed to."
"Hmm," Kovrim said, nodding. "You could tell the watch captain this, lead her to the men."
"I already offered. She still wasn't interested."
"A pity for her, but an opportunity for you." Kovrim leaned forward and gave a hard stare at his nephew. "I wish I could go with you, but these bones are getting a little too old for traipsing around the city in pursuit of criminals. I'll leave it to you. But if you do track on the dagger, you do not go alone, do you understand me?" Vambran nodded. "Take a couple more stout bodies with you. Someone you can trust."
Vambran nodded and said, "I think I know just the two."
"In the meantime," Kovrim replied, sitting back, "I'll help you any other way I can. I'll look into the two priests. If there's something going on that the temple's involved with, I'll find out what it is."
Vambran smiled.
"Thanks, Uncle Kovrim. I knew I could count on you."
The ride to the Pharaboldi estate was serene, if not terribly entertaining, inside the full coach. Emriana did her best not to fidget and complain, but she found the confines of her dress, the coach, and the company of her mother all to be very stifling. The vehicle made its way through the merchant's district of the city, the iron-rimmed wheels rolling loudly over the cobblestones and jostling the occupants incessantly. Emriana looked out the window, watching the hustle and bustle of the city flow past them while Ladara made small talk with Hetta and the attendants who had traveled with them that day.
Emriana tried to tune her mother out, completely disinterested in the latest gossip concerning the truly wealthy of Arrabar, the plots and intrigues they were involved with, and the speculation over what marriages might be occurring between Houses in the near future. She wished Jaleene were there to give her some companionship that would be more to her liking, but true to his word, Uncle Dregaul had ordered the handmaiden to remain behind to be disciplined. At least she wasn't going to be let go, for which Emriana could thank her grandmother. Hetta had revealed to the girl before they finished their breakfast that she had informed Dregaul he was not to relieve the handmaiden from her duties, but that he could make the threat to do so if it made him feel better.
Apparently, the man had taken his mother up on her suggestion. Though she would not be losing her confidante and friend, Emriana still felt no small amount of sympathy toward poor Jaleene over the day she was bound to have, being scolded by the master of the House.
"Em, I do hope you don't sulk like that when we arrive. It is so unbecoming," Ladara commented, drawing the girl out of her thoughts.
"What?" Emriana asked, blinking and looking up to see the entire entourage of women watching her. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mother," the girl replied, trying to smile. She realized she must have been looking very morose, contemplating her maid's fate. "I will try."
It wasn't easy, putting on airs, but she did it because of what her grandmother had revealed to her that morning.
The sooner I start pretending to be what they want, the sooner they'll quit scrutinizing me so much, Emriana told herself.
"And do try to be pleasant to Denrick today," Ladara continued, which almost elicited a groan from the girl before she caught herself and nodded, smiling. "The last time you visited with him, you were less than polite, you know."
Emriana stole a quick glance at her grandmother, who raised her eyebrows slightly as if to say, Remember what I told you.
Turning back to her mother, Emriana smiled even wider and said, "I will do my best, Mother."
Ladara smiled, apparently genuinely relieved.
"Thank goodness. Maybe you're growing up after all." The woman pulled a fan out of her handbag and opened it, waving it rapidly back in forth in front of her. "Mercy, but it's already unbearably warm this morning," she said.
That's because we insist on wearing all these ridiculous clothes, Emriana thought, wanting to scream.
It wasn't quite highsun, and the air was already growing damp and heavy, though inside the coach, where they had shade, it wasn't so bad yet. Once they arrived at the Pharaboldi estate, Emriana knew that it would be blessedly cooler inside, where she was sure the house wizards would have woven a spell or two to keep the temperature pleasant.
As if on cue, the coach arrived at the front gates of the estate of House Pharaboldi, which swung wide to admit them entrance. The coach rolled through the high walls and up the lane toward the house proper, which sat upon a large and gently sloped hill, and Emriana began to stare out the window once more, watching the large trunks of the shadow tops, planted at regular intervals, drift by. Emriana spotted several peahens and a few peacocks strutting about in the shade of those trees. Beyond them, on the open lawn, horses grazed, a large herd of them, for horses were one of the prized possessions of the Pharaboldis.
Eventually, the coach pulled up to the front of the mansion, coming to a stop in the rounded drive that encircled a great fountain and accompanying flower-filled beds. The home itself was several stories tall, and all four sides were surrounded by open-air porches pierced by arched windows that looked out on the grounds. The whole thing had been painted a warm shade of tan, with burgundy and pale blue highlights accenting the whole.
Attendants stepped forward from the shade of the porch to open the doors of the coach and assist the women in stepping out. Ladara climbed out first, then turned to help Hetta, with Emriana following to ensure the older woman didn't teeter and fall. Once they were all safely on the graveled walk, they flipped open their parasols and strolled together up the steps, which were flanked on either side by great planters teeming with a variety of tropical blooms. At the top of the staircase, standing regally on the tiled front porch, Anista Pharaboldi waited on her guests with a proud smile upon her face. It was not the first time the Matrells had come calling, but it seemed like each time Emriana remembered visiting, the woman practically glowed with satisfaction at the appearance of her stately home.
"It's so nice of you to come visit us today," Anista called out as the Matrell women made their way to the porch. "Please, come inside where it's bearable."
With that, the Pharaboldi matriarch turned and marched through the great front doors into the cooler, darker interior. Emriana followed her grandmother and mother inside, letting her eyes adjust.
Like the Matrell estate, the Pharaboldi home was a spacious, open-air place, allowing cooling breezes to blow through and keeping the warmth of the subtropical sun at bay. Cool tiles covered every floor, and countless planters contained ferns, vines, and even small trees, all of which were allowed to climb columns and walls, or to hang from above, draping over the sides of planter boxes clinging to balconies or hanging baskets that dangled from exposed beams running the length of the larger rooms. Trellises were used instead of solid walls to separate spaces in many rooms, thickly covered with bougainvillea and philodendrons and half a dozen other kinds of growth.