To Moonflower, he gave a fortuitous trinket: a finger-high sculpture of a sea dragon carved of expensive red inda wood from Miskiannes. To Koriadde and Jerinte, Taudde gave graceful thanks for the pleasure of their company and small practical knives with sharkskin hilts and deadly edges. The sheath of one was set with small cabochons, the other with tiny pearls. Both young men seemed pleased.
To Jeres Geliadde, he gave a completely unadorned knife, of the kind meant to be carried unobtrusively in the boot for emergencies, and received in return a curt nod.
To Ankennes, Taudde gave a drinking cup whimsically carved to resemble a mage’s scrying ball, and the mage laughed and claimed he would see more truth in a cup of liquor than any true crystal. Taudde only hoped his own smile looked unforced. He had used a triple-bladed tuning rod to weave deadly sorcery into the cup, so that any wine poured into it would become inimical. Lest someone other than the mage might fall victim to the poison, Taudde had also limited the sorcery so that the enspelled malice of it would wear away over the course of a few weeks.
He would be shocked if the mage actually drank from the cup in the meantime. That spell was not very subtle. But, though Taudde would be delighted if Mage Ankennes did drink from it, its “loud” ensorcellment was meant merely to drown out the far more subtly enspelled items Taudde had brought to this banquet. Ankennes would, of course, know these, too, carried sorcery. But Taudde hoped to prevent him from determining the exact details of how that sorcery would work.
To Miennes, with a significant look, Taudde gave a set of twin pipes made of horn and bound in silver. To the prince, with a deep bow of extravagant gratitude for the honor of his presence, and with a deepening reluctance he worked hard to conceal, he gave an even more beautiful set made of sea ivory and bound in gold. As the prince touched his set, Taudde felt the familiar whisper of sorcery waking. He found himself gripped by a sudden intense urge to snatch the ivory pipes back, break the waiting enchantment, render the pipes harmless. But it was far too late for second thoughts. Taudde slowly lowered his hand to the table.
“How lovely!” Bluefountain explained, turning to study first the pipes made of horn and then the set made of ivory. “What exquisite work! Are these from Miskiannes?”
The prince smiled and offered his set to Bluefountain so she could examine them more closely. Several of the other keiso peered over her shoulder as she turned them over in her hand and then, with a glance at the prince for permission, brought them to her lips and played a single note. It swelled in the room, mellow and pure, and Bluefountain closed her eyes and lowered the pipes again, smiling with delight.
The note seemed to Taudde to echo with shadowy grief, and he had to pause a moment before he could lie smoothly. “I bought them in Miskiannes. But I believe they were made across the sea, in Erhlianne. They do fine work there.” They did, but not as fine as the work Kalchesene bardic sorcerers could do. But he did not say that.
“Lovely,” agreed Mage Ankennes, smiling blandly. “Certainly more than the equal of my cup. May I?” He leaned forward to examine the prince’s set more closely, then sat back again with a murmured, “Masterful work indeed. Lord Miennes, yours are very fine as well. If I may?” He took the horn set and examined them curiously.
Taudde tried to match the mage’s bland smile, but suspected he’d failed.
The mage gave the set back to Miennes and nodded to Taudde. “Lovely work, indeed,” said the mage. “ I commend your… taste, indeed I do, and the craftsmanship that went into this piece.”
Taudde murmured appreciation, wondering just how much of the complex working Mage Ankennes had perceived. That the mage had given the pipes back to Miennes was surely a good sign… probably a good sign… Just how subtle was the mage?
“They are so beautiful, and such a pure sound! I have never seen anything to match them,” murmured young Moonflower, putting out a tentative finger to brush the carved ivory of Prince Tepres’s set. Her glance rose, Taudde thought by chance, to catch the prince’s, and she blushed and looked away. The prince smiled. The rest of the company hid smiles of their own, or in the case of the prince’s bodyguard, a frown. But at least the young keiso had drawn everyone’s attention away from Taudde. He took the opportunity to covertly trade the plain ring Jeres Geliadde had given Moonflower for a narrower ring of his own that was roughly similar. At least it seemed unlikely the child would have any call to try to use it to solicit aid from any guardsmen. At least not soon.
Miennes accompanied Taudde to his carriage, of course. On passing out of Cloisonné House into the night, Taudde felt again that odd jarring dissonance he had perceived on arriving. The sensation startled him. He had almost forgotten his earlier feeling that the keiso House was a fraction aslant of the ordinary world. He hesitated in the doorway, half inclined to go back into the house and see whether he might find Leilis, compare the dissonance that clung to her to the sensation that occupied the doorway. Study, even unravel, the strange spellwork that had been imposed on her… She had at least seemed a naturally reticent woman. He would have to find an excuse to see her later. He would have liked to find her now.