Masquerade in Lodi by Lois McMaster Bujold

Author:Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spectrum Literary Agency, Inc.
Published: 2020-10-14T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

He was puzzled. Not alarmed, Pen told himself and his leaping pulse as he swept the square with his gaze. Chio’s showy striped dress should stand out even in flickering shadows. No luck. He flashed Des’s demonic sense to its fullest range. By now, he could recognize those souls at a distance much as one would recognize the form of a friend seen down the street. Nothing.

He wheeled, checking the square again. The cutpurse and his cronies were gone, naturally enough. He didn’t see how they could have taken Chio and Merin with them by force without his or Des’s notice in the few moments he’d spent collecting the meat. Nor why, actually.

No, agreed Des. But when a demon sounded worried…

The canal here had no footpath, lapping right up to the buildings on either side. The sole access was by oarboat at the market landing. Water traffic had thinned out, only a few hardy boatmen still circulating to ferry inebriated customers home.

This market had three dry entries, the alley they’d come in by, and the other two leading who-knew-where—just because they started off in one direction didn’t mean they’d continue that way.

Pen picked the wider, cobbled one and trotted down it, frugally munching his meat skewer. The snack didn’t settle well in his newly nervous stomach, despite his peckishness. After a hundred paces, the street narrowed and ended in a close-built ring of houses. A Lodi rat could have escaped between them, but not a girl in a party dress and whoever she’d left with. Merin must be accompanying her, Pen reasoned with himself, his pulse, and his digestion. Chio could not be completely unprotected.

I’ve lost the saint! Envisioning himself explaining this to Learned Riesta, Pen fought panic. She was only temporarily mislaid, surely.

Back to the market. Taxing a few bleary men and the less bleary vendors for witness bore no fruit; the first had been too drunk and the second too busy keeping them so. Pen scowled at the time he’d lost and headed into the final street. In a minute, the first crossing presented him with the usual three-way dilemma.

Pen halted, thinking of his late father’s description of a dog trying to chase two rabbits. Doomed to catch neither, in the paternal parable. Increasingly frantic circling was not the answer. He’d been doing that all night.

If the pair hadn’t been kidnapped, one must have persuaded the other away. But which? He wouldn’t put some impulsive start past Chio, certainly. Earlier in the evening, he might have imagined her growing bored with her stodgy Temple protector and haring off to find a better party, but not since their sobering encounter with the distraught Iserne. So she must have had a reason. A god-inspired reason? Attempting to picture what, or how, made him want to gibber.

The notion of Merin luring her away from Penric also left him at a loss. Not slyly divesting a romantic rival of his prize; he’d shown no hint of being interested in Chio that way, although it would take a brave man to approach a saint.

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