smiled her good-bye, then hurried into the crowd.
* * *
Mirri glanced up as a man passing through the dinner crowd bumped her chair. Fluffing her dark curly hair, she smiled at him and turned back to Nella with a happy sigh as he walked away. "How much do you have left?"
"About twelve crown," Nella said and forked up some beans. "Maybe only one more phase, surely no longer than two.
If
I can find enough mending."
Plien winked at her. "I'll be glad when the mending's done. You stay up half the night and I need my beauty sleep."
Nella shook her head and sipped her cider as she tried not to laugh.
Around a mouthful of poultry, Dari said, "She has to sit in the hall to do it, you dingle. Helgith took our light away. If you were ever in the room, you'd know."
"Polishing is worse than mending," Stef said, grumbling into her mug of cider. A thin girl with dull hair and angry eyes, she leaned back and glowered. "Mending is quiet, at least. Polish stinks."
"No polishing this phase," Nella said. "I promise."
Mirri giggled, her round cheeks turning pink. "There's nothing left to polish! I walked by the ballroom the other day and every candlestick gleamed like magic in there."
"They better," Stef muttered,
thunking
her mug on the table. "She polished one hundred and thirty-two of the damned things."
"One fifty-six," Nella said. "Josceline gave me two whole crown to polish the two dozen in Lord Brushgar's suite. I couldn't bring those back to our room."
"Be still my heart," Stef said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. "Two whole crown!"
"Oh, shut up," Dari said, giving Stefan evil glare. "At least she's trying. All you do in your spare time is sleep."
"It's all right," Nella said. "I know I'm a bother."
Dari shook her head. "You're nothing of the kind."
"I sure don't mind," Mirri said, batting her eyes and resting her chin on her hand. "I think it's romantic."
Plien shrugged and sipped her cider, her eyes seeking out interested men, as always. Beside her, Stef glowered.
Nella glanced across the table to Ker. Small, shrinking, and quiet, she stared at her plate, fiddled with her steel bracelet, and grunted. Ker rarely said more than a single word or two.
"Ker don't care, either," Dari said. "Looks like you're odd one out again, Stef."
Stef pushed her plate away and stood. "Fine. I'll be odd one out. Nothing new there. But when Helgith jumps all our asses because Little Miss Perfect broke curfew to do extra work, or falls asleep on the job, don't come crying to me."
"We won't," Dari said, her voice as sweet as apple blossoms in a spring breeze, and her eyes as hard as Faldorrahn granite.
Nella shook her head and sighed, returning to her supper.
* * *
Grandfather's old cloak works perfectly
, he thought as he chewed a mouthful of bread and contemplated the supper crowd.
A relic from the war, his grandfather had stripped the warm, woolen cloak off a dying mage and had kept it secret, spiriting it home. Not only was it prone to repelling rainwater and shedding stains—once dried, most fell off as dust or were easily brushed away—it provided a unique perspective on living things.
They glowed.
While wearing the cloak he could see any detail he wanted: bare skin behind clothing, internal organs, the flutter of a frightened heart. No one knew, no one noticed. Who would give a man in a humble woolen cloak a second thought, or glance?
Grandfather had enjoyed entertaining the children by using the cloak to tell what trinkets they had in their pockets or how many fingers they held behind their backs. His best trick though, the one that made the children clap with glee, was when grandfather, and everything he held, disappeared.
Grandfather had been a fool. A kindly, shortsighted fool. Such tricks were not meant for entertaining children.
Such glorious colors
, he thought with a smile,
all because of the cloak
.
While wearing it, he saw every blue-tinged bone, every crimson muscle, even the flow of
* * *
Mirri glanced up as a man passing through the dinner crowd bumped her chair. Fluffing her dark curly hair, she smiled at him and turned back to Nella with a happy sigh as he walked away. "How much do you have left?"
"About twelve crown," Nella said and forked up some beans. "Maybe only one more phase, surely no longer than two.
If
I can find enough mending."
Plien winked at her. "I'll be glad when the mending's done. You stay up half the night and I need my beauty sleep."
Nella shook her head and sipped her cider as she tried not to laugh.
Around a mouthful of poultry, Dari said, "She has to sit in the hall to do it, you dingle. Helgith took our light away. If you were ever in the room, you'd know."
"Polishing is worse than mending," Stef said, grumbling into her mug of cider. A thin girl with dull hair and angry eyes, she leaned back and glowered. "Mending is quiet, at least. Polish stinks."
"No polishing this phase," Nella said. "I promise."
Mirri giggled, her round cheeks turning pink. "There's nothing left to polish! I walked by the ballroom the other day and every candlestick gleamed like magic in there."
"They better," Stef muttered,
thunking
her mug on the table. "She polished one hundred and thirty-two of the damned things."
"One fifty-six," Nella said. "Josceline gave me two whole crown to polish the two dozen in Lord Brushgar's suite. I couldn't bring those back to our room."
"Be still my heart," Stef said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. "Two whole crown!"
"Oh, shut up," Dari said, giving Stefan evil glare. "At least she's trying. All you do in your spare time is sleep."
"It's all right," Nella said. "I know I'm a bother."
Dari shook her head. "You're nothing of the kind."
"I sure don't mind," Mirri said, batting her eyes and resting her chin on her hand. "I think it's romantic."
Plien shrugged and sipped her cider, her eyes seeking out interested men, as always. Beside her, Stef glowered.
Nella glanced across the table to Ker. Small, shrinking, and quiet, she stared at her plate, fiddled with her steel bracelet, and grunted. Ker rarely said more than a single word or two.
"Ker don't care, either," Dari said. "Looks like you're odd one out again, Stef."
Stef pushed her plate away and stood. "Fine. I'll be odd one out. Nothing new there. But when Helgith jumps all our asses because Little Miss Perfect broke curfew to do extra work, or falls asleep on the job, don't come crying to me."
"We won't," Dari said, her voice as sweet as apple blossoms in a spring breeze, and her eyes as hard as Faldorrahn granite.
Nella shook her head and sighed, returning to her supper.
* * *
Grandfather's old cloak works perfectly
, he thought as he chewed a mouthful of bread and contemplated the supper crowd.
A relic from the war, his grandfather had stripped the warm, woolen cloak off a dying mage and had kept it secret, spiriting it home. Not only was it prone to repelling rainwater and shedding stains—once dried, most fell off as dust or were easily brushed away—it provided a unique perspective on living things.
They glowed.
While wearing the cloak he could see any detail he wanted: bare skin behind clothing, internal organs, the flutter of a frightened heart. No one knew, no one noticed. Who would give a man in a humble woolen cloak a second thought, or glance?
Grandfather had enjoyed entertaining the children by using the cloak to tell what trinkets they had in their pockets or how many fingers they held behind their backs. His best trick though, the one that made the children clap with glee, was when grandfather, and everything he held, disappeared.
Grandfather had been a fool. A kindly, shortsighted fool. Such tricks were not meant for entertaining children.
Such glorious colors
, he thought with a smile,
all because of the cloak
.
While wearing it, he saw every blue-tinged bone, every crimson muscle, even the flow of
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