bloodlines, that’s what I say. If my daughter-in-law produced a child like that, I’d know she played my son false. And I would have no hesitation in turning both her and her child out of the house.”
Senneth laid down both pieces of lace and headed straight for the shop door. Tayse was leaning against the wall, hands hooked in his belt, eyes ceaselessly watching the restless crowd.
“All done?” he asked, and then noticed her hands were empty. “I thought you were going to buy some lace.”
“I’ve decided to get her a clock instead,” Senneth said, and turned down the street to a watchmaker’s shop that she had passed before.
THE wedding was an exercise in humiliation, or would have been if Senneth had been even remotely interested in the goodwill of the lesser gentry gathered to attend. The ceremony itself was brief and dull, but the reception that followed was ostentatiously lavish. She estimated that two hundred people had been crowded into a room meant to comfortably hold about half that number. The heat was intense—Senneth herself never minded the heat, but she saw more than one young woman stagger and almost faint—and the odors of perfume and sweat did not blend well with the scents of food and wine.
There was what seemed to Senneth a desperate air of gaiety, as if all these second-tier noblemen and their scheming wives were pretending to be at an elegant ball at one of the Twelve Houses. The women had dressed in remarkably fine gowns; the men wore velvet and exquisitely tanned leather. What interested Senneth was that very few of them wore diamonds or rubies or traditional jewels. Nearly everyone—from the women with their bracelets and earrings to the men with their rings and cravat pins—wore moonstones as the accessories of choice. This was particularly true for the young women whose plunging necklines and oversized pendants were meant to mimic the ball gowns of Twelfth House serramarra. The dowdy Sindra, with no pretensions to wealth or status, wore a comfortably high-necked gown and no ornament but her gold necklace, but Erin Sohta had sashayed out in a dress with daring décolletage.
“Mind your housemark,” Senneth had noted as they were dressing for the event.
Kirra had lifted her pendant, which she had not bothered to alter in her own transformation. Erin Sohta would undoubtedly wear rubies in her role as Danalustrous vassal, and who in this crowd would recognize this exact piece of jewelry? Where it had lain against her skin there was only unblemished flesh. “Erin Sohta doesn’t have a housemark,” she retorted. “I wanted one less thing to worry about.”
To Senneth, it seemed like Kirra was not worrying about a thing. As soon as the simple marriage ceremony was over, Kirra had joined the noblest of the circles available in this company and began laughing and flirting. Senneth herself slipped unobtrusively through the room, snagging a glass of wine here, a bit of cheese there, trying to listen to strangers’ conversations, trying to read the mood of the city.
Taxes, weather, and weddings. This particular group didn’t seem concerned with anything else.
After a couple of hours, she gave up for a bit and took a seat in an unoccupied chair in a poorly lit corner of the room. She had replaced her wine with water and continued to watch and listen to the crowd, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be the one to garner any information this evening. If they learned anything on this outing, it would be through Kirra.
A shadow crossed her face, and then a body fell into place in the seat beside hers. She looked over in surprise at a handsome middle-aged man who wore a Fortunalt pearl in his neckcloth and a moonstone the size of a walnut on his right hand.
“I hate these affairs, don’t you?” he asked in a pleasant voice. He smelled of ale and onions; he had obviously partaken fairly liberally of his host’s hospitality.
She permitted herself the small smile of a
Senneth laid down both pieces of lace and headed straight for the shop door. Tayse was leaning against the wall, hands hooked in his belt, eyes ceaselessly watching the restless crowd.
“All done?” he asked, and then noticed her hands were empty. “I thought you were going to buy some lace.”
“I’ve decided to get her a clock instead,” Senneth said, and turned down the street to a watchmaker’s shop that she had passed before.
THE wedding was an exercise in humiliation, or would have been if Senneth had been even remotely interested in the goodwill of the lesser gentry gathered to attend. The ceremony itself was brief and dull, but the reception that followed was ostentatiously lavish. She estimated that two hundred people had been crowded into a room meant to comfortably hold about half that number. The heat was intense—Senneth herself never minded the heat, but she saw more than one young woman stagger and almost faint—and the odors of perfume and sweat did not blend well with the scents of food and wine.
There was what seemed to Senneth a desperate air of gaiety, as if all these second-tier noblemen and their scheming wives were pretending to be at an elegant ball at one of the Twelve Houses. The women had dressed in remarkably fine gowns; the men wore velvet and exquisitely tanned leather. What interested Senneth was that very few of them wore diamonds or rubies or traditional jewels. Nearly everyone—from the women with their bracelets and earrings to the men with their rings and cravat pins—wore moonstones as the accessories of choice. This was particularly true for the young women whose plunging necklines and oversized pendants were meant to mimic the ball gowns of Twelfth House serramarra. The dowdy Sindra, with no pretensions to wealth or status, wore a comfortably high-necked gown and no ornament but her gold necklace, but Erin Sohta had sashayed out in a dress with daring décolletage.
“Mind your housemark,” Senneth had noted as they were dressing for the event.
Kirra had lifted her pendant, which she had not bothered to alter in her own transformation. Erin Sohta would undoubtedly wear rubies in her role as Danalustrous vassal, and who in this crowd would recognize this exact piece of jewelry? Where it had lain against her skin there was only unblemished flesh. “Erin Sohta doesn’t have a housemark,” she retorted. “I wanted one less thing to worry about.”
To Senneth, it seemed like Kirra was not worrying about a thing. As soon as the simple marriage ceremony was over, Kirra had joined the noblest of the circles available in this company and began laughing and flirting. Senneth herself slipped unobtrusively through the room, snagging a glass of wine here, a bit of cheese there, trying to listen to strangers’ conversations, trying to read the mood of the city.
Taxes, weather, and weddings. This particular group didn’t seem concerned with anything else.
After a couple of hours, she gave up for a bit and took a seat in an unoccupied chair in a poorly lit corner of the room. She had replaced her wine with water and continued to watch and listen to the crowd, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be the one to garner any information this evening. If they learned anything on this outing, it would be through Kirra.
A shadow crossed her face, and then a body fell into place in the seat beside hers. She looked over in surprise at a handsome middle-aged man who wore a Fortunalt pearl in his neckcloth and a moonstone the size of a walnut on his right hand.
“I hate these affairs, don’t you?” he asked in a pleasant voice. He smelled of ale and onions; he had obviously partaken fairly liberally of his host’s hospitality.
She permitted herself the small smile of a
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