Chapter Two
Risa Demaris was a Runner. It was her task to hunt and catch criminals. It was a task demanding good health and an iron spine, but no family connections or education of distinction. From what I had observedand Risa’s bitter commentsit didn’t pay very well, and I now had the experience to understand just what that meant.
Risa was a glorious woman. She was tall and beautifully shaped, strong and lean. Her skin was a gorgeous warm brown and her eyes were stunning. Really, if I was going to envy any woman for her appearance, it would be Risa.
She was wearing the uniform of a Runner right then, the tall black boots, the black trousers, the black tunic, and a black cape. She looked stern and imposing. When she was not on duty, she wore flowing garments of bright orange and yellow and half a dozen pairs of earrings. In either scenario, she stood out in a crowd, and she liked it.
Risa was my friend, one of the few I’d been able to make in High Scape. She had been put to the task of finding Taro when he’d been abducted by Stevan Creol. She hadn’t been successful with it. I had, but only because I’d had a follower of Creol leading me every step of the way.
She wasn’t visiting us for a social call. The evening before, Taro and I had reported the disturbance in the ash grove to the first Runner we could find, but Risa had come to do a follow-up interview. She said people had been digging up ashes all over the city, which was apparently what Taro and I had stumbled into the night before, and her superiors thought we would be more comfortable being questioned by her, as we knew her.
I didn’t think I could possibly be comfortable with any conversation concerning digging up human ashes, regardless of the participants. Why would anyone want to mess around with that sort of thing?
“To start off,” Risa said, leaning back into the settee in my suite. “Do either of you recall any new details about last night? Something you’ve remembered since you spoke with Runner Elliot?”
“I have nothing to remember,” I told her. “I didn’t see anything.”
“Aside from the defiled marker.”
“Aye.”
“But, Karish, you saw people.”
“Yes, but not faces or hair color or anything like that. Except . . .” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing.
Risa leapt on him. Verbally, of course. “You’re remembering something.”
“Nothing useful. There was just something familiar about the way one of them moved.”
“But you have no idea why he seemed familiar.”
Taro shook his head and shrugged.
“Well, keep thinking on it.” She looked at me. “What about the grass immediately around the marker? Did you notice anything unusual?”
“I didn’t get close enough to see.”
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t going to step inside the circle.”
“Why in the world not?”
“It felt strange.” I didn’t like admitting that. It was fantasti cal and childish. But it was what had happened.
“It felt strange?” Risa asked with a snicker.
“Yes,” I snapped.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re different,” she accused me. “So are you,” she said to Taro. “Why are you so quiet?”
“Silence enhances my beauty,” he announced solemnly.
Risa clearly didn’t know how to respond to that, so she didn’t. She was smart that way. “Did you notice anything unusual about the grass around the marker?” she asked him.
“I didn’t step into the circle, either.”
“Why not?”
“Lee said it felt strange.”
Risa rolled her eyes. “So neither of you touched anything?”
“Correct.”
“And you didn’t see or hear or smell anything other than what you’ve already mentioned?”
“No.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes.”
“Then I guess all I can ask is that you let us know if you think of anything else.”
Hopefully, we would never have any reason to ever think of it again. It was weird.
“You said this has been going on a lot?” Taro asked.
Shut up, Taro. This is none of our business. Oh, except— “Were any of the other markers for the ashes of aristocrats?” Just in case. Taro had been born into an aristocratic family, and that caused him a stupid amount of problems, even though he’d given up all rights to the family title.
“Aye, but not all of them. There’s everything you could think of. Merchants. Gamblers. Actors. Farmers. All sorts of different people.”
An interesting selection of victims. If one thought the dead could be victims. Which I didn’t, as they were dead.
“Do they have any idea who’s doing it?” Taro asked.
“Not yet,” Risa said in a curt voice. “Why? Are the two of you going to be supplying desperately needed assistance?”
That wasn’t fair. We didn’t try to get involved in these things. It just happened. “No,” I answered loudly, before Taro could say anything. “It is none of our business. We are a Pair. That’s what we do. That’s all we’re going to do.”
Risa looked amused by my words.
Taro raised an eyebrow. “I would think after the last year you’d have a different opinion about that sort of thing.”
Flatwell had been a rude shock for us both. It had been terrifying to be in a place where Pairs were neither respected nor supported. We had been expected to pay coin, which we didn’t have, for everything we needed. It had been a harsh lesson in the dangers of having only one skill and relying entirely on it.
On the other hand, it was wise to know one’s limitations. I was not a Runner. Who was I to get involved in a Runner’s business?
“Where did you two go, anyway?” Risa demanded. “And why?”
No one was supposed to know where we’d gone, or why. Showing up after more than a year of absence, it was hard to lie, and I wasn’t good at lying. “Triple S business.” Which wasn’t entirely a lie, as taking Aryne to Shidonee’s Gap was Triple S business, and it was also a catchall phrase used to tell regulars to stop asking questions. Handy.
“Huh,” said Risa, unimpressed.
“Did you bring your costume back with you?” Taro asked, sounding innocent when he was acting anything but.
I couldn’t kill him. I wasn’t suicidal. But I could hurt him a lot without experiencing any ill effects myself. Testing the limits of that ability might prove educational.
“Costume?” Risa demanded, eyes alight.
“It’s not as interesting as it sounds, Risa.”
“I beg to differ,” said Taro.
Why was he doing this to me? I couldn’t remember aggravating him recently. “Part of the task I was required to perform demanded particular clothing.”
“Task, eh?” said Risa. “Some task other than Shielding, I suppose?”
“Bloody barbarians,” Taro muttered, suddenly losing his good mood. “Wasn’t enough that we were a Pair. They expected us to work.”
Risa gaped at him for a moment, then started cackling with laughter, nearly falling off her chair in her enthusiasm.
“It’s not funny,” Taro objected, and no, he didn’t sound at all petulant.
“It’s beautiful!” Risa exclaimed. “Finally! You two had to work to earn an honest coin?”
That was all it took to bring Lord Shintaro Karish back. He sat up even straighter in his chair, his shoulders squaring back and the haughty mask slipping over his face. “We spend our lives risking our lives settling natural disasters, and have never gotten a damned coin for it.”
I loved the way his r’s rolled whenever he was particularly annoyed.
But Risa was not the sort to be intimidated. If pushed, she could tell dozens of stories about lordlings whom she’d picked up in various drunken positions of embarrassment or destruction. “So what did you do?”
“Nothing we can tell you about,” I told her.
“You can’t tease me with a mention of a costume and then just drop it.”
“Just watch us.”
“At least tell me why you had to wear it.”
“I’m sorry, Risa,” I said. “Really. It’s just that our time away was difficult, and to come home and come across” More weird ritual trash. The people we’d known on Flatwell had taken their belief in ritual and superstition to fatal extremes. I hated rituals. They were never a good thing. I sighed. “It’s disappointing, really.” And frightening. And frustrating.
Risa tried to stare us into confessing. We stared back, silently. Then she shrugged. “All right. For now. But I’m getting some of that horrible white wine you like and pulling the story out of you.”
Like hell. I was making a note of it. No more drinking with Risa.
We were able to tell her some of the more ridiculous things that had been going on in the Imperial court, claiming we had heard the stories during our travels. Risa told us of some of the goings-on in High Scape, which included a rash of home fires, a mayor who’d been caught spending too much government money on personal pleasure, and a series of successful jewel thefts. Risa’s world was largely shaped by criminal activity, which was perfectly natural given her occupation, but it could make for a depressing conversation.
Risa was always, for some reason, a little less fun when Taro was with us. She seemed less relaxed and more likely to be offended. So it was a bit of a relief when she decided it was time to leave. But that wasn’t necessarily an improvement of my overall circumstances, because Taro declared that it was time to go shopping. “For what?” I demanded.
“For whatever takes our interests. We work damn hard at our jobs and deserve whatever compensation we desire.”
I looked at him with concern, discomforted by the tone of bitterness in his voice. “I don’t need anything,” I said.
He rolled his eyes. “That’s subject to debate.”
And that quickly, the bitterness was gone. Perhaps it had been a momentary aberration. “You can stop it right there.” I found myself pointing at him, which was rude. “Only my mother is allowed to nag at me about my clothes.” And only because I’d failed to find an effective means of gagging her.
“The point of shopping, my love, is not to go hunting for things you need, but allowing yourself to stumble across things you like and delighting in the discovery.”
“How like a flighty lordling you sound.”
“Hush, you, and be a good girl. It’s not like you have anything better to do.”
He was unfortunately right, but that didn’t mean I was going to obey him unequivocally. “We are not shopping for clothes.”
“Aye, aye. There’s plenty else to find, you know. We need to get you some trinkets. You almost never wear any.”
I shrugged. It wasn’t as though I didn’t like jewelry; I just never thought of it much. And when I did, I was uncomfortable with the idea of taking it from merchants. It was expensive, and I didn’t need it at all. What few pieces I did have had been gifts from my family, and those would have been properly bought.
But there was no harm in looking.
In my experience, no city did markets as High Scape did them. It wasn’t merely a matter of size, though High Scape did have a much greater number of merchants than any other city or settlement I had ever been to. It was also the fact that it was pretty much spread out all over the city, with a concentration in each quad and tendrils of stalls winding through the surrounding streets.
And then there was the sheer variety of goods. Clothing, of course. Clothing already made to fit general standard sizes, at which Taro always turned his nose. Fabric, to be purchased by those forced to make their own clothes. Tailors for those who could afford to have clothes made for them. Consumables, such as chocolateTaro picked up three barsand other luxuries, as well as vegetables and fruits and fish and meats and breads and cheeses and ales and wines and other liquors. Paintings and rugs and wall hangings and trinkets and toys. Dyes and cosmetics and perfumes and hair combs. Playing cards and name cards and news circulars and books. Just everything imaginable.
The noise of the market was often deafening, the scents in the air a battle between the sublime and the disgusting, and the streets completely crammed with people, animals and stalls. Sometimes I found it overwhelming. As well, fingering items I didn’t need and listening to people bicker just wasn’t terribly interesting to me.
Still, shopping with Taro could be fun, for he obviously enjoyed it, and his enthusiasm was a pleasure to observe.
Besides, there was a part of me that still hadn’t quite recovered from worrying about every coin and whether we’d have enough to buy food, which had been a constant preoccupation of mine while on Flatwell. I couldn’t say I wasn’t thinking about how much things cost—I could never return to such a state of perfect ignorance—but knowing I could have it if I wanted it, regardless of price, was an almost dizzying relief.
I was disgusted that I felt that way. I was ashamed of how much I’d hated my time as a regular, how stressful I’d found it, how eager I was to return to the ease of being a Shield. I would ignore such self-assessment, if I could.
“That,” he said, nodding at a bolt of blue cloth, “would look brilliant on you.”
Aye, it would. “No clothes,” I reminded him.
“Blue brings out the green in your eyes and makes your hair look exceptionally red.”
And that was a good thing? “No clothes.” Especially clothes that had to be made for me. That meant fittings, and fittings were time-consuming, irksome things.
“But you agreed to jewelry.”
“I agreed to look at it.” And I hadn’t even done that. I just hadn’t verbally opposed it.
Jewelry itself covered a lot of variety. There were plenty of rings, bracelets, anklets and chokers woven from leather or a variety of fabrics, and some of it was quite pretty. But that, of course, wasn’t what Taro had in mind. “Gold,” he declared.
“Copper would do, too,” I suggested, but only because it made him give me that look of affronted disdain.
“Gold,” he repeated.
“You know, if copper were more expensive, you’d be insisting on that over gold.”
“There’s a reason gold is more expensive.”
“The merchants flipped a coin?”
“Because it’s more rare, and it’s prettier.”
“Pretty being so much more valuable than useful.”
“That’s something that damn island taught us, didn’t it?”
Taro never called Flatwell by its name if he could avoid it.
The stalls with the valuable jewelry were easy to spot. They had solid wooden walls on three sides and a guard or two standing at the front. The guards gave us a glance before returning to scanning the rest of the crowd, recognizing us as a Pair by the braids we wore on our left shoulders, and therefore not a threat.
Ah, and there was that disappointed look from the merchant when he realized some of his precious stock might be walking out with no coin in return. I’d almost missed that look.
“And don’t even think of hiding your best stock,” Taro warned him.
I looked up at him, startled. As the first words out of his mouth, they were a little harsh.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” was the merchant’s snappish reply.
“In fact, why don’t we start with your strong box and move from there?”
The merchant sighed and ducked behind his display. He pulled out one black box, about a foot square, and then a second, unlocking both with keys secured to his belt. He raised the lids and pulled out the drawers.
I knew immediately that this was not the stuff for me. Gem-encrusted necklaces, rings, earrings and bracelets, thick and heavy and glittering. My skin hurt just looking at it.
Taro seemed to be reading my mind, for he tugged on one of my naked earlobes. “The holes are fairly small. You might have to work your way up to earrings such as these.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Taro. I’ve no occasion for earrings such as these.” I didn’t expect any repetitions of the one party I’d attended in honor of the Crown Prince. Thank Zaire. I enjoyed music and drinking with friends as much as the next person, but there was something rather stiff about the gatherings of the High Landed. Plus I knew they were looking down at me, which was never a comfortable sensation.
The look of relief on the merchant’s face was hilarious.
“You have in the past.”
“And if I have any luck at all, I never will again.” I looked at the merchant. “You can put these away.”
He was pushing in the drawers before I’d finished speaking.
Taro growled but didn’t press, instead choosing to glance over the rest of the man’s inventory.
It wasn’t a matter of modesty with me. I truly didn’t care for jewelry that was too fussy, no more than I liked fussy clothing or fussy furnishings.
“So, what are these things?” Taro asked, holding up what looked like a gold lump on a gold chain. The chain was too short to be a bracelet, too long to be an earring. “I’ve seen people wearing them.”
So had I, now that I thought about it. A faint memory teased at my mind and faded away. I took the item from him. I found a small pinning loop attached to the chain. The lump, upon closer inspection, was beautiful golden knot work.
“Not like that one, sir,” the merchant objected. “Few have the taste required to
“Yes, yes,” Taro interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “But what is it?”
“Are you visitors here?” the merchant asked in return.
Taro raised a haughty eyebrow. “We are Shield Mallorough and Source Karish.”
And before the merchant would make the mistake of admitting the names meant nothing to him, I added, “We returned to the roster only yesterday. We’ve been at another post.”
The merchant nodded in a quick, abrupt gesture, because it wasn’t as though he actually cared. “These are called harmony bobs. They have become highly fashionable. They are said to bring good luck.”
“Bring good luck?” Taro picked up another bob from the display. “How do they do that?”
The merchant shrugged. “The spells cast on them.”
Taro chuckled. “Spells?” he asked incredulously.
“Casting has become popular this season.”
How could belief in casting become popular? Like a style of boot. Who believed in casting outside of plays, poetry and novels? And, of course, Flatwell.
“You are to wear it pinned to your clothing, over your heart,” the merchant explained. “The beating of your heart is supposed to wake the power in the metal. The bob itself must be given enough length to hang freely, to give it direct exposure to the forces it is supposed to affect.”
What a ridiculous idea. “What has brought this on?” I asked.
“I suspect it has something to do with the Riverfront Ravage,” said the merchant, and I could hear him capitalizing the words.
The what?
“Excuse me?” Taro asked.
“Some kind of illness. It started a few months ago. No one knows how it started or where it came from. Some people think it’s from the trade boats. Some think it’s because of all those little flies that seemed to be springing up down there.”
How had we not heard of this during our travels?
“What’s being done about it?”
The merchant shrugged. “There are healers looking into it, I expect. It’s nothing too serious. No one’s died or anything. It’s pretty common for these kinds of illnesses to flare up in larger cities. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Yet they are developing this interest in casting because of it?” Taro gestured at the merchant’s display.
“The ignorant get scared,” the merchant answered. “I believe people started feeling uncertain about things during the Harsh Summer.”
Though I had not heard the title before, I imagined he was referring to the summer before last, when unseasonable weather had a devastating impact on crops and stocks, on all number of livelihoods and lives.
“Many have still not recovered. I imagine there are those who never will. And then this illness comes, and the healers can do nothing. The Pairs can do nothing, the healers can do nothing, the mayor can do nothing. People start looking for other solutions.”
How incredibly sad. I couldn’t imagine what was worse than feeling utterly helpless, having terrible things happen and knowing there was nothing to be done about it. “But no one has died from this illness?”
“Of course not.”
All right, then. It was unpleasant but not fatal. I was really tired of fatal things.
“Does the design have special meaning?” Taro asked of the bobs.
“Yes. A design will determine the nature of the luck you’re seeking. In wealth, in health, in love and so on.”
“And is there a limit on the number of designs?”
The merchant frowned. “Not that I know of.”
“You have several repetitions here.”
“Ah, those are partner bobs. Two people, wishing for the same thing, means twice the luck for both.”
“Really?” Taro grinned, and I began to feel nervous. “What are these for?” He held up the bob.
“Luck with cards.”
“Don’t need it.” He pointed at a design still on the display. “And that one?”
“Many children.”
Taro apparently desired no luck in that area, either, for he moved on to the other bobs. He found none of the harmony bobs appealing, in meaning or style. So we left the merchant stall empty-handed. Which was a relief to the merchant and fine with me. I didn’t want matching jewelry.
Except he dragged me directly to another jewelry stall. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Taro.” It was a fashion. Taro in the past had sneered at those who felt compelled to follow fashion. He himself was always stylish, but never fashionable.
“What? They’re funny.”
“They’re childish.”
“Too much maturity makes you old before your time.”
“No matter how old I get, I’ll always be younger than you.”
His response was to pinch my ear.
“I’m not wearing one of these harmony bobs, Taro. They’re ridiculous.” And while I wasn’t overly concerned with what I wore or what others thought of it, that didn’t mean I went out of my way to attract ridicule.
Besides, wearing a piece of jewelry identical to what Taro wore, it was too suggestive. People who were promised to each other in marriage wore matching jewelry, or those who belonged to some kind of organization. Either way, I’d look a complete fool once Taro went back to his licentious ways.
“So don’t wear it if you don’t want to. But you’re getting one with me.”
I sighed. “Yes, milord.”
We went through three more stalls like the first one, and they didn’t have anything that appealed to Taro, either. The design, the metal, or the meaning put him off.
It was the fifth stall that had what he was looking for. And I should have predicted that such would be the case, because this stall looked different from the others. There were no guards, and the only solid wall was the one at the back. Apparently this merchant wasn’t overly concerned about thieves, for the wares were pinned to slanted boards that faced outward, rather than inward like at the other stalls.
This merchant, unlike the others we’d so far encountered that day, didn’t seem worried about the loss of revenue to us. He greeted us with a smile that appeared genuine. He looked different, too, now that I bothered to really look at him. His brown hair, surprisingly curly, was worn longer than was the fashion for men, and his blue eyes fairly beamed out of a face that was masculine but sensual, his full lips curled as though he were gently amused at something. Perhaps us. His posture was relaxed, his clothes loose and colorful and designed for comfort rather than style. Something about him felt odd. Not dangerous or unpleasant. Just odd.
He was extremely handsome, an embodiment of all that was lush. There was something about his face that made me want to reach out and touch, starting at those amazing cheekbones with a side route to the enticing mouth and along that beautifully defined jawline. Really, everything about him was just so inviting. I folded my hands together to keep them still.
I looked to Taro, wondering what he thought of this toothsome young man. My Source didn’t seem to have noticed him yet, focusing instead on the jewelry.
He found a bob he liked almost immediately. A simple silver chain supporting a symbol that looked like a sidewise number eight, only slimmer and elongated.
“It’s the wrong metal,” Taro said regretfully. “Silver doesn’t suit you.”
“It suits you, though. And you’re the one who’ll be wearing it.” I liked the look of it myself. It was nonfussy, but elegant, and something about the figure implied balance. I liked the idea of balance. It was calming.
“What does this one mean?” Taro asked the merchant.
This was the first time Taro had addressed the merchant directly. I watched his face, waiting for the coy smile, the spark in his eyes. There was nothing, no recognition of the merchant’s beauty. What was going on?
“Eternity.”
“Eternity? An eternity of what?”
“Maybe it means something like immortality,” I suggested.
Taro frowned. “Never understood the appeal of living forever.”
“But eternity is not limited to immortality,” said the merchant. “It can symbolize the desire for everlasting youth, or love, or the success of one’s family, through every generation. It can refer to a search for knowledge that spans all existence, or an understanding of one’s connection to everything else. Its meaning can adapt to the desires of the wearer.”
That didn’t make sense. Objects didn’t adapt to their users. They were what they were.
“We’ll take these,” Taro told the merchant, and he moved to pin the thing on my chest before I could move to stop him.
The merchant was faster. “No, no, my lord,” said the merchant, surprising us both with the use of Taro’s former title. “There is a way to be doing such things.”
That couldn’t be good.
“Please.” From beneath one display the merchant pulled out a very short stool, a second one from beneath another. “Sit.”
One couldn’t properly sit, the stools were so low. It was more like kneeling on the mat, with the stool supporting the buttocks. Taro and I ended up facing each other a short distance away from one another.
He wasn’t going to sacrifice a chicken or anything, was he?
He got our names first, my two and Taro’s string of them. He lit two candles, setting them down on the mat, one before Taro, one before me. Beside each candle he placed a black feather, a silver ring, a triangle of smoky incense and a bowl of clean water.
“Think of what you wish would last for an eternity,” the merchant said. “If both of you desire the same, the power of the symbol will be brought to bear. If you do not, the bobs shall be nothing more than pretty pieces of silver.”
That was all they were anyway. “We don’t need to put you through all this trouble,” I said to him. I didn’t add that I had noticed a few curious onlookers pausing outside the stall, wondering what was going on. Taro and I no doubt looked like a couple of right fools.
“If you’re not to give me the proper coin,” the merchant said coolly, “you might at least observe the appropriate rituals.”
That told me.
To make us even more uncomfortable, the merchant started to walk, circling us. “Think of what you wish to be eternal. Don’t speak of it, for you will feel guarded in what you say, and may shape each other’s wishes. Only if you are identical and sincere in your desire can the casting work.”
Ah, so when the casting didn’t work, it would be our fault.
But just as a mental exercise, I thought about what I would wish to be eternal. Not my life. I couldn’t imagine living forever, continuously watching everyone I knew die and die and die. To have an unlimited thirst for knowledge might be useful, but it might be discomforting, too, to want more and more information and never be satisfied. Like an addiction. I didn’t care about having an unlimited amount of possessions, though that might be useful for any children I might have.
Actually, I did know of one thing I would wish to last forever or, at least, as long as I lived. It was a weak and childish kind of wish. I couldn’t even form the words in my mind.
The merchant stood beside Taro, a bowl in one hand and a knife in the other. “If you would take the bowl, my lord.”
“What are you planning?” I asked sharply.
“Just a few drops of his blood, to be mingled with yours.”
“No.” I didn’t know why that idea offended me so much. It just did.
“Relax, Lee,” said Taro. “It’s harmless. Unless you think I’ve got some fearsome disease I’ve been hiding from you.”
“Of course not.” If he did, I’d no doubt already gotten it. “It’s just barbaric.”
“Spoken like someone who has no understanding of the process,” said the merchant. He wasn’t sarcastic or snide or condescending. Just gently amused. I didn’t know that I liked appearing amusing to other people.
Taro took the bowl, in his right hand as the merchant hinted, and held his left over it. The merchant carefully sliced into the fleshy part of Taro’s palm. Taro hissed in reaction, but shifted his hand over so the first drops of blood landed in the copper bowl. The merchant pressed the bob into the bloodied palm, curling the hand into a fist.
Then the merchant was beside me, and I rolled my eyes at the childishness of it all. I took the bowl and let the knife cut into my palm. I felt it, but it didn’t hurt. One of the benefits of being a Shield, I didn’t feel things as much as other people did. I held my hand over the bowl and watched the blood drop down.
I actually felt a little odd. Almost a little faint. Which was stupid. I’d never before been squeamish over the sight of blood. But this was causing some kind of buzzing sensation under my skin, and I didn’t like it.
The merchant put the other bob in my hand and balled my hand into a fist. He took the bowl from me, mixing the blood within it with the tip of his knife. He dribbled a drop of blood into the wax of each of the candles, right by the flame, then set the bowl on the floor, an equal distance between Taro and me.
“To the river from the north,” the merchant said, much more loudly than he needed to. “To the river from the south. To the river from the east. As they join together, let Dunleavy and Shintaro join together in their will and their desire.” Lovely. It had only needed that. He walked around us, continuing to speak in what seemed like a blending of a poem and a speech. “As the waters flow together to a single end, so will the blood of Shintaro and Dunleavy.” At times, he would pause beside one of us, picking up the feather, waving it in the smoke of the incense and returning it to the ground. After he had done that with each feather three times, he slid the rings onto them and placed them both on the ground, never lifting them again.
I looked at Taro. He was smirking.
And then the merchant stopped. “My lord, you may pin the bob on Shield Mallorough. Go directly to her; don’t step outside the circle. Wash the bob off in the bowl beside her feet. Then dry the bob on the inner wrist of your left hand before pinning it directly over Shield Mallorough’s heart.”
Taro did as instructed, and with the lightest touch pinned the bob over my left breast. No inappropriate fondling.
“Please return to your post, my lord. Shield Mallorough, if you would do the same for your lord.”
That made Taro snicker, again. He was enjoying this far too much. With a straight face I repeated the actions required by the merchant, ending by pinning the bob on Taro’s chest. It suited him, I had to admit. Smooth and elegant, just like him.
“And now,” the merchant said once I’d returned to my stool, “each of you remove your candle from its setting and stand. Each of you approach the center bowl. Now douse the flame in the blood.” We did so, and I, for one, was feeling silly. “Put the candles in the bowl, and stand straight.” And we did. “It is done.”
The applause startled me. An audience had formed. Lovely. I had no doubt they totally misunderstood the significance of what we had done. Which was to humor the merchant so Taro could get his meaningless matching bobs.
Taro had his hand shaken by many. I was given flowers. And someone pressed a wrapped package into my hand, which I would later discover held a loaf of spice bread, gushing best wishes for a happy future.
Oh, aye, totally misunderstood.
And no, there would be no embarrassing repercussions from this.