He’s showing you off.”
I felt an obscure pride at this, though I’d done nothing to deserve pride—not yet, at least.
I saw movement at the doorstep, and Isadel stepped down, snapping open the parasol. “Well, come on,” she said. “The sooner you get this over with, the better.”
I stepped into the parabola of shade. By long tradition, no Adorned would enter another’s house uncovered, save when they were on display. This meeting would be on the threshold. Yana and Isadel stood beside me like an honor guard, shielding me from prying eyes.
In front of me was Tallisk. He took a deep breath before knocking at the door; there was barely a few seconds’ wait. It would seem we were expected.
No housekeeper or key-master greeted us; Deino Meret, it seemed, opened his own doors. He was not as old as I had expected. I had supposed any man who had been master to Tallisk would have been a wizened gnome, but he looked a vigorous sixty-something. He leaned against the doorframe, stroking his prodigious grey beard. Hidden in it somewhere, I saw a smile. “Well, well, Roberd,” he said, “I was beginning to wonder when you’d next choose an Adorned. Is this him, then?”
Tallisk took my elbow and steered me toward him. “Master Meret, this is Etan writ-Tallisk.”
I had not heard my new name spoken aloud before this. I swallowed my shock at it and looked at Meret with what I hoped was a smile.
He bent to peer at me closer. His eyes were wide set and dark, with wild brows, and they were merciless in their scrutiny.
“An interesting theme,” he said after a moment. “A new direction for you, Roberd?”
“Yes,” Tallisk said.
Meret nodded. “I look forward to seeing you completed, young Etan.”
“Thank you, sir,” I murmured.
“Now.” Meret drew himself up. “I am sure you have other visits to make.” He brushed his fingertips against the ivory square at my throat. “Good luck to you. In all things.”
With those words and no more, Meret turned away from us, back into the shade of his house. Still holding me by the elbow, Tallisk guided me back into the carriage. He sat back, eyes slit in my direction—they were like a surveyor’s tools, sharp and critical. I felt, for a moment, a stranger to him once more.
“Do we go to the Count, now?” There was a note of anticipation in Isadel’s voice, I thought. Was she so eager to see him again?
“Yes.” Tallisk sighed. “I suppose we had best introduce you to our patron at last.”
I looked up at him with knitted brows. If Isadel was eager, Tallisk sounded nothing if not reluctant. “Sir?”
He leaned out to get Yana’s attention, ignoring me. “To Count Karan’s, then.”
Yana spurred the horses, and we were off once more.
Chapter Fifteen
The Blooded had pride of place in the city. Their houses were laid out in a garland around the old palace, where the Council of Blood ruled in place of ancient kings. Their servants roamed the wide white streets, bright as peacocks in their outfits, and their bloodguards stalked around, proud and territorial as wolves, their rifles slung across their backs.
In architecture, the manors of the Blooded were not so different from the houses on Nightwell Street. They were larger, finer, and set apart from each other rather than crammed end-to-end, but one might believe they belonged to some rich merchant family or well-rewarded Noble of the Sword.
There was one difference, though, that made them impossible to mistake. Most city houses had no gardens, and those that did hid them behind their backs, like Tallisk’s, narrow little patches of earth where only the toughest plants did not struggle to grow. The gardens of the Blooded were their entrance halls, forests in miniature, ringed with fences of delicate iron. Their houses wore them like Adornments.
I gaped. I had seen engravings of them, these gardens of privilege, but to see them with my own eyes was a different matter. There were trees of all shapes
I felt an obscure pride at this, though I’d done nothing to deserve pride—not yet, at least.
I saw movement at the doorstep, and Isadel stepped down, snapping open the parasol. “Well, come on,” she said. “The sooner you get this over with, the better.”
I stepped into the parabola of shade. By long tradition, no Adorned would enter another’s house uncovered, save when they were on display. This meeting would be on the threshold. Yana and Isadel stood beside me like an honor guard, shielding me from prying eyes.
In front of me was Tallisk. He took a deep breath before knocking at the door; there was barely a few seconds’ wait. It would seem we were expected.
No housekeeper or key-master greeted us; Deino Meret, it seemed, opened his own doors. He was not as old as I had expected. I had supposed any man who had been master to Tallisk would have been a wizened gnome, but he looked a vigorous sixty-something. He leaned against the doorframe, stroking his prodigious grey beard. Hidden in it somewhere, I saw a smile. “Well, well, Roberd,” he said, “I was beginning to wonder when you’d next choose an Adorned. Is this him, then?”
Tallisk took my elbow and steered me toward him. “Master Meret, this is Etan writ-Tallisk.”
I had not heard my new name spoken aloud before this. I swallowed my shock at it and looked at Meret with what I hoped was a smile.
He bent to peer at me closer. His eyes were wide set and dark, with wild brows, and they were merciless in their scrutiny.
“An interesting theme,” he said after a moment. “A new direction for you, Roberd?”
“Yes,” Tallisk said.
Meret nodded. “I look forward to seeing you completed, young Etan.”
“Thank you, sir,” I murmured.
“Now.” Meret drew himself up. “I am sure you have other visits to make.” He brushed his fingertips against the ivory square at my throat. “Good luck to you. In all things.”
With those words and no more, Meret turned away from us, back into the shade of his house. Still holding me by the elbow, Tallisk guided me back into the carriage. He sat back, eyes slit in my direction—they were like a surveyor’s tools, sharp and critical. I felt, for a moment, a stranger to him once more.
“Do we go to the Count, now?” There was a note of anticipation in Isadel’s voice, I thought. Was she so eager to see him again?
“Yes.” Tallisk sighed. “I suppose we had best introduce you to our patron at last.”
I looked up at him with knitted brows. If Isadel was eager, Tallisk sounded nothing if not reluctant. “Sir?”
He leaned out to get Yana’s attention, ignoring me. “To Count Karan’s, then.”
Yana spurred the horses, and we were off once more.
Chapter Fifteen
The Blooded had pride of place in the city. Their houses were laid out in a garland around the old palace, where the Council of Blood ruled in place of ancient kings. Their servants roamed the wide white streets, bright as peacocks in their outfits, and their bloodguards stalked around, proud and territorial as wolves, their rifles slung across their backs.
In architecture, the manors of the Blooded were not so different from the houses on Nightwell Street. They were larger, finer, and set apart from each other rather than crammed end-to-end, but one might believe they belonged to some rich merchant family or well-rewarded Noble of the Sword.
There was one difference, though, that made them impossible to mistake. Most city houses had no gardens, and those that did hid them behind their backs, like Tallisk’s, narrow little patches of earth where only the toughest plants did not struggle to grow. The gardens of the Blooded were their entrance halls, forests in miniature, ringed with fences of delicate iron. Their houses wore them like Adornments.
I gaped. I had seen engravings of them, these gardens of privilege, but to see them with my own eyes was a different matter. There were trees of all shapes
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