Bloodhound

  Dale grinned at Goodwin, as if he hadn't been halfway down the side of my neck. "Oh, I won't repeat language like that when I'm having a good time," he said. "I did think of having a metal barrel made to wear around myself, to protect anything... valuable, though."

  There, I thought, sipping my twilsey. He was playing with me, that's all. He's a playful fellow. Very playful.

  Under the tabletop, I felt his hand brush my free arm.

  "What's this?" The newly arrived mot was about twenty-five, all curves in orange silk, with tumbles of black curls and bright black eyes to match. She had a cat's pointed chin and draped herself across Dale's left shoulder and Hanse's right with a cat's boneless grace. "You lads havin' a party without Fair Flory?" Her voice dripped honey for the men, but her eyes darted murder at Goodwin and me. Goodwin simply grinned. I met the doxie's eyes with mine, widening my gaze until she looked away. I had to play Goodwin's shy young partner, but that didn't mean I should take sauce from a double-dimpled port mot.

  "Flory, you've no call to ownership, you know that," Hanse said, giving her a slap on the bum that made her squeal and smack him back. "This here is Clary Goodwin – Corporal Guardswoman Clary Goodwin, so you mind your manners – from Corus. And this is Guardswoman Beka Cooper, her partner and strong right arm. They're our guests tonight, so unless they say you're welcome, you can shake that pretty round rump of yours elsewhere." To me and Goodwin, Hanse said, "Flory here is mistress of the Port flower sellers and orange girls. Flory knows how to have a good time, don't ye, wench?"

  Flory sniffed at him and put both arms around Steen's neck. "I like coves as aren't cruel to me," she said, with a little girl pout.

  "I say welcome, Flory," Goodwin said cheerfully. "The more the merrier! I never knew a flower seller who couldn't tell a mot where the best sparkles are sold, and where a cove wouldn't cheat her out of a week's pay for a length of silk!"

  Flory laughed as she settled on Steen's lap. "Oh, if it's shoppin' you want, I can help you there!" she said, waving for a serving girl. "These lads have done me favors enough, and I'll do the same for any friend of theirs. On the sly, though, bein's how you vexed my Rogue this day."

  "You're afraid she'll frown on you, being with us?" Goodwin asked.

  Fair Flory's smile was thin and cruel. "They's lots of flower sellers and orange girls in Port Caynn, Mistress Clary," she replied. "We don't defy Pearl outright, and she leaves us well alone. There's peace in the Court of the Rogue!"

  "We'll all drink to that!" Dale said, hoisting his tankard. The maid passed one to Flory, and we drank.

  While I did not lose track of new arrivals, I do not precisely recall the order in which they came or exactly what was said after that. It was all laced with loud talk and joking, Goodwin's flirtations with Hanse, and the arrival of all kinds of food.

  The great stew of sea creatures unnerved me, I am sad to say. As the maidservant placed our trenchers before us, I tried to peer into the large soup bowl without anyone noticing.

  "What's wrong, Beka?" Steen asked. "Have ye never seen a great net stew afore?"

  "No, nor even most of what's in it," I said, prodding a strange orange something with the tip of my belt knife.

  "Here," Dale said, grabbing the ladle. He dumped a large serving into my trencher and gave himself another before he passed the ladle to Hanse. Then he speared one of the orange things on the point of his eating knife and offered it to me. The orange stuff wobbled on its own. "Try a mussel. You won't be the same thereafter."

  "It's safe enough, lass," Hanse jested as he served Goodwin and himself. "If it were oysters, now, you'd be in trouble!"

  I ducked my head. Everyone knows the reputation oysters have for putting folk in the mood for canoodling.

  "Just open that pretty mouth," Dale wheedled.

  I did, to tell him not to cozen me, and he popped the mussel in. My lady always forbade us to talk with food in our gobs, so I chewed. My mouth filled with sommat that tasted the way the sea smelled. The mussel was tender, with just enough garlic to make me happy.

  Dale had popped two mussels into his mouth whilst I managed the one. He'd also managed to slide even closer to me, so our legs pressed tight against each other from hip bone to foot. "Now, see? That was good, wasn't it?" he asked when I swallowed.

  I nodded. He had another tidbit on his knifepoint for me. "Ever try skate?" he asked as he brought it to my lips.

  He fed me a number of things, including the skate. I did not care for the clams, which were harder to chew than mussels, the too-salty sardines, or the squid, but the different fishes were nice. We had the eel pie that had so tempted me, a roast onion salad, a mixed green tart, and stuffed eggs. Whenever I showed I'd not tried something, he insisted on putting it into my mouth with his eating knife or, in the case of the sweetmeats, with his fingers. I let him do it, enjoying his play.

  I have never been courted this way, all flirting, jokes, and quick touches. Rosto half insults me as he tries to tumble me. In matters of wooing, men are confusing. I'm far more comfortable when coves treat me as an ally, or a friend, or a student.

  There were thirteen of us by the time we had gotten to the sweetmeats. Dale had teased me into trying his wine, a pale golden sort that was crisp and tingly on my tongue. I sipped it carefully, sensing it was the sort of drink that might knock a mot on her rump were she not careful.

  "What do you say, then, Clary, Beka, Flory?" Hanse asked us. "D'you feel like a visit to the Waterlily? There's Gambler's Chance, dicing, music, backgammon, chess." He grinned at Dale, who laughed. "How about it? You can bring us luck, play a game yourselves... ?"

  Flory rose from Steen's lap, where she'd been sharing his cup. "You'll never have to ask me twice!" she said, keeping an arm around Steen's neck as he stood. Most of the others were getting to their feet as well.

  Goodwin laughed that unfamiliar laugh and swung her legs over the bench where she sat. "I never pass a chance to rattle the bones, do I, Cooper?" she asked me. "Cooper's not much for play, but she loves the music and the watching. And maybe some kind soul will teach me this new Gambler's Chance game."

  "You don't gamble?" Dale asked me, getting up from his seat.

  I looked at him. "I have younger sisters, and our parents are dead," I told him. "Their only dowries come from me." Building dowries for my sisters was hard to fault as an excuse, but it was a lie. Lady Teodorie had already provided for them.

  "Then you must bring me luck, and keep me from being sad should my luck turn," Dale told me. With that he wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me bodily from my seat. I yelped and wriggled, then stopped as he set me down, laughing.

  I couldn't help it. I laughed, too, but I gave him a small shove. "I manage on my own, Master Rowan!" I said. Goddess, for a slender man he has muscles like steel!

  "I've no doubt, but isn't it agreeable to let someone else do it, now and then?" he asked me, helping me to wrap my cape about my shoulders.

  "It is not," I said, adjusting his shoulder cape for him.

  "Pretty liar," he teased.

  "Saucebox," I retorted.

  "Will you two flirt all night, or will ye come oan?" roared Steen from the door. We followed the others to the little room where the coves traded brass tokens for their swords and long daggers. Once they had settled their weapons around their sashes and belts again, the coves and Flory led the way out into the street.

  "Dale, what's this Hanse tells me?" Goodwin asked. "Here I've been nattering about learning Gambler's Chance in front of the cove that invented the game? I'd take it as a kindness if you'd teach me."

  "But teaching means I lose the chance to make coin of my own," Dale complained.

  Goodwin showed him a gold noble, making it walk through her fingers. "Will this change your mind?"

  I'm not sure buying lessons in Gambler's Chance was what my lord meant when he gave us that fat purse, but who am I to question Goodwin? At least in this company word would get about fast that the older Corus Dog
was flashing gold. They'd be certain she was crooked. I eased to the outside of the group while Hanse and Dale started talking about the new game, one that was played with numbered cards and portrait ones.

  I was happy to look at the crowds. Folk were out for their night's pleasures, and those who lived by shearing them were out, too. When most of the city ends its workday, the part I understand best begins its hours of labor. Twice I heard the cry of, "Thief!" in the distance. I saw a Dog pair breaking up a robbery in an alley and felt downright homesick.

  Hanse told Goodwin, "There's the Waterlily." I looked up and noted the brightly painted sign just four doors down the street. Then I saw a familiar face in the crowd. It was the scared maidservant from the Court of the Rogue, the one who had served Pearl her drinks. She wound her way into a thick knot of folk watching a lad juggle flaming torches.

  I wouldn't get lost, not with the Waterlily so near. I strolled over to the gawpers. The maid had worked her way to the front. She watched the juggler, mouth agape, as he added the fresh torches given to him by his helper. She gasped when he set them to twirling yet still managed to catch each one without burning himself. And when he finished, she picked through her scant handful of coins and set one in the hat that his helper passed around. The juggler smiled at her, and blew her a kiss, even though others had probably given him a bigger tip. The maid covered her blushes with her hands and fled, giggling, while the juggler turned to flirt with another girl.

  That little bit of kindness between maid and juggler pulled at my heart. Sometimes I forget there's kindness in the world. I remained for a moment to savor it, like a bit of honey on my tongue.

  Then I hurried to the Waterlily, in case anyone had noticed I was missing. I suspected not, given how eagerly they'd been talking about that card game.

  Inside the Waterlily all was light and noise. I dropped my cape around my elbows and sought my companions. The rooms here were larger than at the Merman's Cave, with comfortable chairs set for the gamblers and stools for their companions. The folk were well dressed and there were lamps hung over each table for light. Servants wound through the crowd with practiced speed, balancing trays of food and drink. In one large room I saw folk sit down to a meal, unhampered by dice or backgammon or chess boards. Two Players with lutes were singing a song back and forth as a talk between mot and cove, each of them doing a verse.

  Dale appeared from the crowd and hooked an arm around my waist. "Come on," he told me. "You have to bring me luck!"

  "And if I don't, you'll leave off pawing me?" I asked, trying to tug free of his hold. I confess, I tried very little. His arm was strong and warm, his hand flat against my belly. I could feel that as if I had no dress nor shift between me and his palm.

  Dale swung me around and drew me up against him until our faces were less than a hand span apart. In his boots he was three inches taller than me, and his heels were small ones. I guessed him to be five foot ten in his bare feet, a nice height for a man. Close like this, it was as if we'd made a space alone in the crowd. Part of me cried to be let go, that everyone was staring at us. Part of me was noticing I fit against him, and he smelled a little like cloves.

  I had thought only Rosto could make my head spin like this.

  "Tell me to stop, if you don't like it. Tell me I'm unwelcome, and I'll go." He said it in all seriousness, his gray eyes sharp on my face. "I've yet to push myself on a woman who doesn't like me. Tell me piss off, Beka."

  "No," I snapped instead.

  I felt him chuckle, more than I heard it. "Then we still have a game!" he said, releasing me. He took my hand and tugged me through the crowd, bound for one of the rooms in the back.

  When we got there, Dale paused as he drew the lone empty chair out from the table where Hanse, Flory, Steen, Goodwin, four of our other fellow diners, and two strangers sat. "Is Pearl in the house?" he asked. "I told you I won't play if Pearl's up to her tricks again."

  "Sit down," Hanse told him. He'd already placed thirty silver nobles in front of his place and was arranging them in five-coin towers. Each coin was scored deep across the center, showing silver all the way through. "One of the guards told me she hasn't been here in a week. No more has Jupp, Zolaika, or Jurji. Play with an easy heart, Dale."

  "Your Rogue gambles?" asked Goodwin. "Must be wondrous to win against her."

  "What was wondrous was that a month ago, she paid when she lost," Flory replied. She shuffled two fat stacks of what looked to be fortuneteller's cards with quick-fingered ease. "All sudden-like, she had silver a-plenty, although I'da sworn the takin's for the Court of the Rogue weren't so special, even for a summer. Her and Jupp, all of them that's tight to her armpits, they were rollin' in coin."

  Steen grunted, his chin on his palm. "They'd play till they lost, then keep playin' till they was winnin', an' winnin' large. Most of the rest of us would be emptied out for a week after playin' wiv them. That's why Dale's so jumpy, like."

  "Well, she stopped playin' like that after ten days of it," Hanse said gruffly. "Our pockets are plump enough, and so are Dale's. Let's have some ale in here! Flory, deal them cards!"

  "Aye, she stopped, after she made enough off us t' buy them cursed pearl teeth," Flory grumbled. "I wonder how much she spent on supplies for the winter?"

  "Sour talk sours the play," Dale murmured. He took his chair as a maidservant placed a smaller seat for me just at his elbow. "Now, Goodwin," Dale said, "lean close so I can whisper what you do in Gambler's Chance."

  There were four different sets of cards for the game – Moon, Sun, Coins, and Swords. Each set had its nobles – King, Queen, Lady, and Knight. There was but one Trickster card for the entire deck, who could be any card his holder claimed he was. Then each set had cards numbered one to ten. I grew bored after that, so I lost track of the combinations that made for more points.

  I turned to watch the people as cardplayers arrived and left. While many came that had been with us at the Merman's Cave, there were even more who just knew Dale's game and liked to play. As the evening wore on, and I mean wore, other tables in the room filled with folk who played Gambler's Chance. No one let Goodwin bet tonight, since she was just learning. Neither could she collect when she won. At our table silver was bet, lost, and won. At one other table I saw gold being laid down. At a third table the coin was mixed silver and copper. If folk checked the silver to see if they had coles, they did it carefully. Did they know of the danger, or did they think they could get any coles back into play and lose them to someone else?

  I had no way to check. As Dale's "luck," I blew on the painted backs of his cards before he turned them to see what meaning they held. Other mots and coves did the same for other players, but they didn't seem to be bored. They sat in their players' laps, fixed food and drink for them, gave them kisses when they won – or lost – and joked along with the players. I was curst if I would fetch and carry like a maidservant.

  At last I quietly rose as if I meant to go briefly to the privy. Once outside the room of cardplayers, I looked around. Doubtless I should gamble a little bit, mayhap at the dice tables. I headed toward a table where I saw space for a new player. I confess, I was grinding my teeth at the thought of risking, and like as not losing, good coin, even though it was not my own. Then I heard folk go quiet as a singer's voice glided along the heated air. It was a lovely voice, deep for a woman's and throaty, raised in a wailing Carthaki song.

  The singer performed in a larger room than most, another of those where folk came to sit but not to play. On a small raised platform stood a singer and a flute player. The singer wore a lovely gold-brown tunic with a wrapped crimson sash. Her sleeves were wide, almost like wings. When she raised her hands, she revealed gold cuffs on her arms. Her hair was glossy black, pinned in a knot at the back of her head, with golden chains twined through it. Her eyes were shaded in gold and lined with kohl. Her lips were painted a vivid red. She wore gold sandals on her feet. It was those feet, and her hands, with their gold-painted nails, that gave her
away. They were much too big. I gave her face a second look. It was Okha.

  "I'n't she splendid?" a cove leaning against the pillar beside me asked. "She's called the Amber Orchid. I seen orchids, down on th' docks. They're flowers, y'know. Brung in from th' Copper Isles. She's more beautiful. You sittin' down, dearie?"

  I shook my head. The cove pushed off his pillar, walked in past me, and found a seat.

  Okha sang three more songs, all of them wonderful. Then he kissed his flute player on the cheek and stepped down from the platform, while the listeners clapped and pounded the floor and threw coins. The flute player collected them. Okha nodded to me, then wandered through the crowd, stopping at tables to say hello to folk he seemed to know.

  He then came to me at last and tucked my hand under his arm. "Now they'll think I'm a honeylove," he murmured in a voice that sounded like a mot's, though a deep-voiced mot's. "Shall I get you a glass of wine, Beka?"

  "Cider twilsey, if you please," I replied. "I'm over my limit for wine tonight."

  "I suppose they'll have to go out to buy it, but of course, dear." Okha beckoned for a serving man to come over. "Sweetheart, my usual, and a chilled cider twilsey for my friend, in my dressing room? I'd be ever so grateful."

  The cove blinked at me, but smiled at Okha. "For you, the stars, Amber," he said. He trotted off.

  Okha steered me down a hall and up a narrow set of stairs. There, off a hallway, he had a room to dress in and to relax in when he didn't sing.

  "Where's Goodwin?" he asked, draping himself on a couch with a sigh. I watched him, wishing I had such grace. He arranged himself naturally, as liquid as water. In a woman's clothes, he was different than he was as a man, yet even more comfortable in his skin. It was the strangest thing.

  I remembered my manners and his question. "She's card-playing with Hanse Remy, Dale Rowan, and some others."

  Okha raised his penciled brows. "Dale Rowan! Now, there's rich company for a girl on her first night in the port! However did she meet Dale?"