House of Shadows(56)
At least he now found it very simple to focus purely on the urgent concerns of the moment. Lord Miennes was clad in the best style of a Lonne nobleman, in a fine amethyst overrobe, matching amethysts in the rings on his fingers. Miennes, Taudde thought, would have been greatly amused to hear the prince chiding his bodyguard for unnecessary wariness.
He forced his expression into an easy smile.
Miennes made his bow to the prince and took a place at the table.
Two more keiso entered the chamber. They bowed to the prince, then to Taudde, and finally to the rest of the gathering, smiling with what appeared to be unfeigned delight. Both were younger than Summer Pearl. The first was a young woman with pleasantly rounded features and a dimpled smile; she wore an overrobe embroidered with autumn leaves, in rust and copper, from bodice to hem. Her blue-black hair, falling down her back in a thick plait, was gathered into five descending clips of amber and gold.
This keiso carried a white bowl in which floated a single exquisite pale-lavender flower. She set this bowl in front of Taudde with a small bow that suggested she was particularly delighted to find him, specifically, present at this banquet. A light, spicy fragrance rose from the flower. “My lord, I am Meadowbell,” the keiso said, in a cheerful tone. “Welcome to Cloisonné House. May this visit be the first of many!”
“Thank you,” said Taudde. Deliberately emulating the prince, he reached out a finger to brush a delicate lavender petal and said, glancing at the keiso rather than at the bloom, “A beautiful flower.”
The keiso smiled delightedly as though she were not accustomed to being paid such compliments, or at least not by men she admired as she admired Taudde. Taudde, amused at this flattery, concluded that, unless the men of Lonne were blind and deaf, this keiso’s cheerful manner and softly rounded figure must surely make her a favorite even among all the beauties of the candlelight district.
Koriadde declared, “Well said, my friend! We shall count you an asset to the flower world!” and lifted a tiny cup in salute.
Taudde put his hand over his heart and bowed slightly in his turn to acknowledge the compliment.
“And do you have a mistress in Miskiannes upon whom you practice your graceful manner?” Miennes inquired.
“I have forgotten,” said Taudde, offering another slight bow, this time to the keiso, who laughed and slyly bowed her head, turning so as to glance at him over her shoulder in a teasing, deliberately seductive gesture.
The other keiso, the youngest of the three, said in a light, bantering tone, “Meadowbell has a keisonne, my lord, so all other men must be wary lest she break their hearts! Now, I am still free. My name is Featherreed.” She looked at Taudde through down-swept lashes. “You are from Miskiannes? How exciting! Is it true snow never falls in Miskiannes? Do flowers bloom all through the winter?”
This keiso was as tall and slender as her namesake, fine-boned, with delicate features and a graceful way of moving. Her hair, golden as wheat, was pinned up with small ivory combs. Birds as golden as her hair flew in a spiral from throat to waist around her overrobe.
“It snowed at my uncle’s house once when I was very young,” Taudde told her. This was even true. “We thought it very pretty, but the snow did wilt the winter lilies, which would otherwise have bloomed straight through until spring.”
“So an unexpected snow may rob us untimely of our last blooms,” Miennes said, smiling warmly around at the keiso. “But in Lonne, of course, we are fortunate to have other flowers we may cherish while we wait for spring.”
“A sharp winter is perhaps the price Lonne pays for possessing the greatest and most splendid mountains in the world,” remarked Taudde, though in fact he thought the stark mountains of Kalches more beautiful. He wished, suddenly and intensely, that he was home among his own mountains now, but hoped that long practice kept this yearning from showing in his face.
“Ah, Kerre Maraddras!” said Koriadde. “I tried to climb it once, you know.”
The prince, accepting a tall slender glass of straw-pale wine from Featherreed, turned his head at this. “Did you? I didn’t know that. How far did you get?”
“Hardly past the first shoulder,” Koriadde replied. “I was young and foolish and had neglected to wear spiked boots. Fortunately, you will say. I hardly like to think of the mountain’s response, had I had the temerity to lay a hand on the stone of his face.”
“We should have been robbed of the pleasure of your company,” agreed the prince. He had relaxed visibly and now lounged comfortably back on one elbow, holding his glass of wine with his other hand. “I went up Kerre Taum once, where the rock is broken, beside the waterfall.”