A Trickster in the Ashes by Felicity Savage

Author:Felicity Savage [Felicity savage]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062004536
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

2 Marout 1900 A.D. 1:39 A.M.

Rae rose gracefully. “I just came to thank him.”

She’d changed back into her basic black, layers of thick veils that disguised her figure and invited the comparison of her face to a pale flower blooming from the heavy cowl ruched on her shoulders. She wore raindrops like dewdrops on the petals of her cheeks. Raindrops glittered like jewels in her hair, sparkled like broken glass on her clothing. She extended a thin, wet hand. Mickey took it, and then, gritting his teeth, pulled her close for a cousinly embrace. “It’s coming down again, I see,” he said into her hair. “So much for summer.”

She held on to him without replying. Her cheek beneath his lips was cold and moist and of an unutterably fine texture. As far as he could tell, she had no breasts at all, just bony ribs under all those wrappings. Dampness soaked through his shirt. Twice he tried gently to push her away, and twice she hugged him tighter. He grew anxious as he remembered the maid and two Enkhoupista footmen waiting outside in the hall. Even if etiquette forbade them to spy on their master’s guests, he knew they were listening not just to what was said, but to every little scrape and shuffle. Crispin wasn’t above questioning domestics. And—Mickey remembered with a shock—if he wanted to stay in Jice Sibelye-Enkhoupista’s good graces, he had to conduct himself with irreproachable propriety.

Finally, reluctantly, she pulled back. “Oh, now, look. I’ve got you all wet.”

“Better wet than never!” Mickey said, flippant with relief, and was instantly embarrassed. “Ah, cousin, Crispin wanted me to tell you—”

She interrupted him by chanting a sudden high note. Outside, one of the footmen knocked something over. Closing her eyes, flinging her arms apart like a crucified figure, Rae sang scale after descending scale until she had reached the lowest register in which she could sustain full voice. Then she opened her eyes and smiled. “Walking in the rain is a very soothing exercise, cousin. Have you ever tried it? It’s better than meditation.”

“Rae-n”—he remembered just in time to use her cult name—“is everything all right at home?”

“Home? Oh, la! Talk about sun-time! After you and Crispin left, I found Lightnie, Tornie, and Fanny out of their minds with fear, clucking over Omarhad—he was exaggerating his illness to get attention, of course—and everyone else missing, except for the babies, who were crying with hunger in the nursery. The toddlers had got into the kitchen and decided to cook supper for themselves. Boiling water! Knives! I reached them in time to prevent a fatality, thank goodness. Jonny helped me clear up.”

“He seems like a fine boy,” Mickey said automatically.

“Of course I didn’t have time to go look for the rest of the children. When the others got back, Cloud spared ten minutes to tell me off, and then they all scattered. What a sight it must have been! Black she-crows flapping through Center City, cawing for their young, holding

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