The Waterless Sea by Kate Constable Page B

robes properly,’ she complained, turning this way and that before the long mirror of polished silver.
    But they all confessed defeat on that score. It was clear from the moment they arrived that the robes Heben had bought inTeril were not quite the right ones, and Calwyn didn’ t wear them in quite the right way. To a casual observer, she would pass as a noble lady. Unfortunately, there were no casual observers in the Palace of Cobwebs.
    Halasaa picked up the folding stool of ivory that every servant carried for his master or mistress, for there was no permanent furniture anywhere in the Palace, and held back the door curtain for Calwyn to pass. Calwyn sighed, gathered her heavy skirts, and went through.
    Many of the courtiers chose to nap in the afternoons, saving their energy for the evening revels that could last all night, and Calwyn and Halasaa found the Garden of Pomegranates almost deserted. They had already realised that this, and early morning, were the best times for searching, and they moved as rapidly as Calwyn was able along the sleepy, shaded terrace, alert for chantment.
    Calwyn said in a low voice, ‘Sometimes I wonder if this quest is hopeless. We could wander this Palace for a lifetime and never find them. We don’ t even know for certain that they’ re here!’
    There are chanters here, Calwyn. I sense them.
    â€˜Are you sure that’ s not Mica and me you can sense?’ she asked tartly, but Halasaa only smiled.
    The Garden’ s alcoves were perfect for secret assignations. Several times that afternoon, Calwyn and Halasaa stumbled upon a guilty-looking or languid pair of entwined lovers, and had to turn hastily away.
    â€˜Don’ t they have their own rooms?’ muttered Calwyn in embarrassment, letting a curtain of ivy fall back into place.
    Look. Halasaa dropped the word into her mind as quietly as a pebble slipping into a pond.
    Calwyn looked.
    A man stood in a patch of sunlight between the graceful pillars of the colonnade. He was tall, and his long face was as pale and waxy as a corpse’ s, but his eyes burned like coals. His hair was slicked back, reaching almost to his shoulders. He was austerely clad in black, with a collar of gold and silver lace. He was staring directly at them.
    Calwyn held her breath. For a long moment there was no sound in the garden but the faint tinkling of an unseen fountain. The gentleman in the black robes held her gaze; there was infinite menace in that stare. Calwyn felt herself revealed and utterly vulnerable, as though his stare were a knife that gutted her like a fish. He looked at her, and through her, and beyond her. Only the presence of Halasaa at her side prevented her from falling to her knees, weak as a rag doll.
    At last he curled his bloodless lip in a suggestion of a sneer, and turned away. In a heartbeat he had vanished behind the elegant rows of the pomegranate trees.
    Calwyn let out her breath, and clutched at Halasaa’ s arm. ‘He – he –’ Come away. Halasaa propelled her to a shady nook; deftly, he unfolded the ivory stool and pushed her into it.
    â€˜That man – he’ s a chanter, Halasaa!’
    Yes. Halasaa’ s face was troubled. And he knows that we are chanters.
    â€˜What will we do? He’ ll have us thrown out of the Palace!’ We should wait. Perhaps he too is here in secret. He cannot reveal us without revealing himself.
    â€˜Yes. Yes, you’ re right.’ Decisively Calwyn stood up. ‘Let’ s finish searching. Perhaps Heben knows something about him. Or we’ ll see what Mica can discover.’
    Heben did not recognise their description of the gentleman in black. Mica went away and talked to her new friends among the kitchen staff. Mica was enjoying herself. While Halasaa followed Calwyn about, carrying her stool, Mica was free to roam as she pleased. No matter where she was, she could pretend to be on some errand for her mistress. The Court