Lokant (33 page)

‘All right,’ he sighed,
straightening. ‘But it’ll be a lot less fun this way.’

‘Must everything be
fun?’

‘I am allergic to
boredom.’

‘Then I shall try not
to bore you.’ Pausing at the entrance to Wirllen’s city square, she
glanced out. They had arrived at a quiet time of day, or strictly
of night. The moon was low on the horizon, almost ready to set.

Beside her, Tren gave
an extravagant bow. ‘That, my lady, you have never yet managed to
do.’

‘I hope you’ll still be
saying that in a couple of days. Come on.’

The salesman grossly
overcharged for the carriage, of course. Eva paid the asking price
without hesitation, earning herself an incredulous smile and a
great deal of extra attention she didn’t want.

‘No, thank you, I’ve
already arranged for the horses. I do not require new upholstery.
The existing curtains are perfectly adequate. Oh, all right. Add an
extra hot brick. In fact, make that two.’

Tren leaned in
slightly. ‘It’s late spring.’

‘So?’

‘So it’s nearly
summer.’

Eva graced that
observation with a flat stare.

‘Er.’ Tren stepped
back. ‘Forget I mentioned it.’

‘It’ll get cold later.
When that happens, you don’t get to share.’

The outfitters was next
on the agenda. It pained Eva to settle for ready-made clothes, she
who was used to custom tailored attire. She swallowed her revulsion
and submitted to the fittings patiently. These were, after all
desperate times; desperate measures must be gone through.

Tren objected to the
suit she picked out for him.

‘I look like a clerk.’
He turned in front of the tailor’s full-length mirror, eyeing his
drably grey-clad self with distaste.

‘That’s more or less
what you are, for the next few days.’

‘But...
the
cuffs.
’ He plucked at the neat, completely unadorned
snow-white cotton with so much dejection she couldn’t help but
laugh.

‘You’ll live.’ She gave
him a soothing pat on the back.

‘How do you know? I
might suffer death by sartorial disappointment.’

‘I defy you to die over
a jacket.’

He folded his arms. ‘I
want my silk shirt back.’

‘No factotum wears silk
shirts, Tren. Please be serious.’

His expression became
mulish. ‘I am serious.’

‘Fine,’ she said with a
sigh. ‘I keep my factotum remarkably well dressed. Just the shirt,
mind!’

‘It’s all right,’ Tren
said, shrugging off the jacket with relief. ‘People will just
assume that we’re sleeping together.’

Eva couldn’t find a
response to that.

Ready-made clothes or
not, it felt good to be in silk and velvet again. Reclining on the
purple upholstery of her new, temporary carriage and listening to
the clip-clop of four horses’ hooves outside, Eva felt like herself
again.

Or her old self. It was
hard to be sure who she was these days.

Tren sat opposite, his
fine silk shirt largely hidden by the drab grey jacket he wore.
She’d asked a maid at the inn they had chosen to do something with
his hair. The girl had tried, but in her defence it was a difficult
task. Tren’s dark hair, quite long by this time (for he resolutely
forgot to have it tended to) was tied back into a tail, but much of
it escaped around his face.

‘So, where
are
we going?’

‘You’ll find out when
we get there. Which will be in about five minutes.’

Tren rolled his eyes.
‘You’re mysterious just for the fun of it. It amuses you far more
than might be considered normal.’

She grinned at that.
‘It’s my prerogative to be enigmatic.’

‘I suppose it will have
to be, for nothing can cure you of the habit.’ He shivered a
little. It was late now, the moon had set and the Night Cloak had
taken over. Lights shone softly in the rigidly laid-out streets,
failing to make the unimaginative architecture look pretty. A brisk
wind sent draughts whistling through her carriage, regardless of
the upholstery and the curtains.

‘Are you sure you won’t
share one of those bricks?’

‘No.’ Eva kept a firm
grip on the stone hot water bottle that rested at her side; the
other one was hidden under her skirts, warming her feet. ‘I warned
you. You mocked me before; now you must pay the price!’

‘Yours is a vengeful
nature, O Revered Employer.’

‘You didn’t have to
come along. I told you I don’t need you for this part.’

‘I can’t let you wander
off alone.
Especially
when I have no idea where you’re
going.’ He shivered again and wrapped his arms around himself.

‘Never mind. It will be
warm in Brun’s house.’

‘Brun?’

Eva ignored that
question. They were already pulling up outside of a large house, as
plain and unlovely as the rest of the city, though she knew it to
be an expensive property in Ullarn. Tren stepped out as soon as the
carriage came to a stop, politely handing her down after him.

‘Thank you,’ she
murmured, smoothing down her skirts. ‘How do I look?’

‘Er.’ Tren stared. ‘Is
that a real question?’

‘Of course it’s a real
question. I have a reputation to uphold here.’

‘Um. You... you look
more beautiful than ever.’

The teasing tone she
expected from him was absent. He was looking at her with a hint of
awe and a great deal of regret.

She suddenly realised
that bringing him here had probably been a huge mistake. She should
have asked Limbane to find him something else to do.

A sigh escaped her.
‘Let’s go in.’

She stepped up to the
great door and rang the bell, listening as it resounded through the
house. Footsteps soon approached and the door was opened by an
immaculately uniformed woman.

‘Is Ambassador Recender
at home, please?’

‘Whom shall I say is
asking?’

Eva gave her name. The
woman’s eyes widened.

‘I’m sure he’ll wish to
see you, my lady. Please come in.’ She stepped back, opening the
door wider. Eva stepped briskly inside, adopting her haughty
noblewoman’s air.

‘I’ll tell the
ambassador that you’re here.’ The woman’s eyes flicked to Tren, but
she didn’t say anything further. She dropped a curtsey and
disappeared up the stairs.

‘
Ambassador
Recender?’
Tren’s whisper held a strangled note.

‘What of it?’

‘We just walked into
the personal home of
Ambassador Recender?
Are you
crazy?’

‘I know exactly what
I’m doing.’

He snorted. ‘You
couldn’t have warned me about this?’

‘No, because I knew you
would react in exactly this way. Now you have no choice but to go
along with it. You
are
going along with it, aren’t you?’

Tren’s only response
was a despairing groan.

‘Hey,’ she reminded
him. ‘You were the one who insisted on coming.’

‘I might not have if
I’d been suitably informed.’

She lifted a brow at
him. ‘Really?’

‘Fine, fine, you win. I
still would’ve insisted on coming.’

The ambassador’s
servant returned. ‘He’ll see you, my lady.’

Eva beamed at the
woman. ‘Of course he will.’

The ambassador was in
his drawing-room. He wore a fabulous silk dressing-gown and
matching slippers, his gleaming brown hair perfectly arranged. His
black eyes watched Eva’s progress across his drawing-room floor
with interest.

‘My lady. An unexpected
pleasure.’

He spoke in Ullarni.
Eva replied in kind, with a silent apology to Tren. ‘I was passing,
my lord, and thought to pay you a visit.’

‘Passing?’ He grinned.
‘One does, I suppose, “happen” to pass Wirllen once in a
while.’

‘Frequently.’ She
returned his grin, allowing hers to become mischievous.

‘Who’s the passenger?’
Recender jerked his chin at Tren.

‘My factotum. I drag
the poor boy everywhere, but he’s so useful.’

‘Another of your
thralls.’ Recender’s lips twitched.

‘A willing one, my lord
Recender.’

He stood abruptly.
‘You’ll stay the night with me, of course. I suppose I can find
somewhere to stow your boy.’ He crossed to the door, opened it
slightly and snapped his fingers. A maid appeared almost at once,
dropping a hasty curtsey.

‘Have a room prepared.
Nothing too grand.’ He dropped his voice to a low murmur and gave
some further directions which Eva couldn’t hear. Then he closed the
door again and returned to her with a smile.

Eva didn’t realise his
intention until it was too late to avoid it. His arms went around
her and he pulled her close, trapping her in a long kiss. She heard
Tren shift uncomfortably somewhere behind her.

‘My departure from your
fine city was too precipitate last time,’ said Recender. ‘I regret
that, for our friendship was terminated at an inopportune
moment.’

‘Then let it be renewed
now. Though I fear I may only stay a brief time myself. Business,
of course.’

‘Ah,’ he said
regretfully. ‘Then we will make the most of it.’

He was every bit as
handsome as she remembered. Awarding him a smile, she said, ‘That
we shall. Oh, Brun? We’re going to need clearance to stay for a few
days. You know how testy the authorities can be. Make up something
plausible, hm?’

‘Naturally.’ He began
kissing her neck.

‘For my factotum as
well. Don’t forget, please.’

‘Anything you like,’ he
replied. ‘Later.’

Eva waited until she
had Recender in a state of perfect satisfaction before she
presented her next request.

‘I’ve a small problem,
Brun, with which I was hoping to enlist your help.’

He stopped in the
process of kissing her arm, casting her a wry smile. ‘I should have
expected that your ladyship would not visit without a reason.’

‘We all do as we must.
You’re usually the first person to say that.’

He sighed. ‘Fortunately
for you I, too, am a willing thrall. What may I help you with?’

For an instant Eva felt
a crawling sensation of disgust with herself.
In thrall.
He
had no idea how true that observation was. And now she manipulated
him deliberately, turning the force of her will on him as well as
her charm.

It was disgusting, but
she did it willingly.

We all do as we must,
indeed.

She turned her smile
back on. ‘I have a few names on my list. Difficult people, hard to
find. I’ve reason to think they are all Ullarni citizens.’

Brun Recender marred
his handsome face with a frown. ‘I cannot assist you in pursuing
Ullarni citizens, Eva. You must realise that.’

‘Brun, I swear. This is
nothing to do with politics. It holds no bearing on the
relationship between Ullarn and Glour. It is more a personal
matter.’

He looked at her
silently, obviously troubled. ‘Powerful I may be, but if it became
known that I have helped you in such a way I could lose a great
deal. You understand that as well, I hope.’

‘I do. I will not be
revealing your assistance, and my visit here is not known.’

‘And your “factotum”?
What of him?’

‘I trust him as I do my
own self.’

‘Do you indeed. And he
is what to you?’

She pulled out of his
embrace. ‘That is hardly a relevant question.’

‘Forgive me. I am sadly
prone to jealousy. I realise I will always have competition; I seek
to establish how much.’

Eva steeled herself to
say the words. ‘He is nothing to me. An employee, nothing
more.’

He shook his head, a
dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. ‘That, I think, is a lie.
Such care you showed for his comfort. And he was displeased to see
you with me.’

Eva’s heart fluttered
oddly. She suppressed the feeling, keeping her features smooth of
expression. ‘His feelings are his own business.’

He gave a soft laugh at
that. ‘So ruthless, my lady. I love you for it. Very well, I will
help you as I can. You will give me the names and I will enquire.
Discreetly. It may take a few days.’

‘I must leave in
two.’

‘Must? Or are
determined to?’

‘Some of both,’ she
admitted.

Tracking Tren down the
following day was no easy task. When she finally found him, he had
the hollow-eyed appearance of a man who hadn’t slept. She inspected
him with some concern.

‘Are you sick? What
ails you?’

‘Nothing physical.’
Tren backed away from her scrutiny without looking at her.

‘I’m going in search of
Mr Iro Byllant. Are you well enough to come, or would you prefer to
go back to the inn?’

‘Are we going on this
search alone?’

‘As in, without the
ambassador? Yes. Of course.’

‘Then I’ll come.’

She felt a rush of
relief, though she was careful not to show it. ‘Right away,
then.’

Tren was
uncharacteristically silent in the carriage. They were heading for
Wynn Street and the warehouse that Ocherly of Lawch & Son had
named for her. It was situated on the outer edge of the South
District, so the journey took some time as they inched through the
traffic. Tren rode for half an hour without looking at her,
directing his attention out of the window instead.

Eva remembered Brun’s
words.
He was displeased to see you with me.

It wasn’t long since
he’d talked to her of love. The ambassador’s worship of her was,
she knew, a product more of manipulation than anything else. He was
indeed, as he termed it, a thrall. In his case her guilt was
minimal; he was the type to use and drop people as he saw fit. It
wouldn’t hurt him to undergo some of the same treatment.

Tren, though, was
different. Always different. She now had sufficient control over
her Lokant side to withdraw what Limbane called her “charisma” in
his presence, but it was too late. She wished she’d learned of it
before, when there might still have been time to avoid enthralling
Tren. His affection for her might be largely imposed, but
apparently it still hurt.