Page 28 of Elvenbred

Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen much in the way of jewelry here. It could be that what she had sewn into her hems was worth disproportionately more here. Bribery had its place, under the right circumstances.

She would have to make a more thorough examination later, to confirm her initial relief that she hadn’t been robbed. She realized that Nora was still speaking to herp “…and then the herd-beast said, ‘It’s only a short walk to the largest moon.’”

Triana smiled at her. “I’m sorry Nora. I was just happy to have my things back. I have so little from home. Every scrap is precious.” And then she thought to add “And thank you for the … toiletries? It will help to look less like I have been woods-running like an escaped slave.” Even as she spoke, she was putting her own hair up to match Nora’s. Probably with indifferent success; she was used to slaves doing this for her, and her hands felt oddly clumsy at the work.

“Of course,” Nora replied, “I was saying that perhaps it’s time for a little outing, and let you get some sun. Perhaps see a bit of the city?”

Triana made no effort to hide her excitement. She was eager to be out of this room, and outside in general. Nora now was about to spoon feed an opportunity to size up escape routes, to learn about how the city worked, and if she were really lucky, to find ways to deploy her small store of wealth in getting free. She might have gone along with the fiction of being a “guest” of Lord Haldeen, but had certainly not reconciled herself to it.

Nora studied her face carefully. “Triana,” she said, “It took some fast talk to get Lord Haldeen to go along with this, and it goes much against his better judgment. We lost some time while you were sick, and if we’re to make you presentable, then we need to move things along a bit. I’m going to have to remind you that if you run, you won’t get far. No one in the city looks like you. Your appearance is so … ummm … unique, that you would be caught immediately. You would be returned to his estate in shackles, and any pretense of guest-right would evaporate. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Triana replied stiffly, quite certain she had never been spoken to … by a servant, no less … in this manner before.

Nora shook her head. “I’m sorry. Not my speech, so I didn’t do it well. His Nibs is worried you are going to scarper off, even though there is no place to go. The lecture is his condition for springing you for an afternoon. Friends?”

Triana smiled. “Of course.” Inside, she seethed, but swallowed it down to take Nora’s proffered arm. She was still a bit weak, but the warm sunlight, clear, if oddly colored, helped lighten her mood.

“I’ve a cloak to help you with the dust,” Nora said, pulling the garment out of a shoulder satchel she carried. It swung around to bump against her hip, and Triana could see it held some weight. “It will also make you more discrete. You overtop most women in the city by a full head, and a male in a cloak will not draw attention. If anything, we will appear as a couple out for a stroll.”

They left the high-walled estate, with Nora showing some type of card with an inked stamp. Triana did not get a good look at the details, but Nora proffered it as some kind of credential … similar in role, if not design, to the sentry passes given to trusted slaves and lower-birth elven lords.

Arm in arm, the two passed through a pedestrian gate, set into a larger vehicle gate, and then out into the city. Triana customarily looked at the world from atop a horse, or from inside a palanquin or coach or chariot, so looking at the world afoot was definitely a different experience. She decided immediately that she didn’t care much for it. She didn’t like the way that people were looking at her, the odd, dumpy, short versions of her own kind, as if she was some sort of freak, and not they. But Nora was right. Once she got out of her box, and made her escape, she was going to stand out like a Redbird in a flock of Doves. She’d have to use illusions to make herself look like them.

Nora steered them through the city and towards what appeared to be a market district, though to Triana’s eye, they didn’t have much to sell, and a great deal of it looked used. Nonetheless, they worked hard at selling, with the sing-song cadences as they talked up their wares, though much seemed interchangeable to Triana. They drifted through the market, with Nora talking to different merchants and emphasizing the vocabulary that she and Triana had practiced. Triana noticed more than one merchant sizing up Nora, and using the smiles they reserved for pretty women. Nora might not look like much in Triana’s world, but here, she was an attention-getter. Triana, who was used to being the center of attention, felt a seed of jealousy sprout.

She remained quiet as Nora steered them away and across the market, then unwrapped some supposed sweets that the very nice young merchant gave her when his father wasn’t looking. Triana found that even the sweets here were bland … barely sweet, and with just enough of some spice to call it flavored.

Triana saw a pinseller. “Nora, could we stop there for a moment? I’d like to get some more hairpins. These wisps are hard to hold in place with ties, and in even a bit of wind I look like a haystack.” She smiled at Nora. “And perhaps a bit of ribbon?”

Nora laughed and steered Triana to the pinseller. Triana browsed the table looking for stout hairpins, with the right amount of stiffness and bend. She found the quality variable, but with some work, she was able to find a few that fit her needs. Once she had those, she scooped up a handful more to help conceal the ones she really wanted.

She needn’t have bothered. The pinseller had a bronze mirror angled while Nora tried some different lip paints and pastes. The pinseller had his full attention on her, and had all but forgotten Triana. She moved towards them, her pins and small swatch of black ribbon to tie up her hair. She could just see Nora’s face in the mirror, and was surprised to see that she was using the mirror to scan behind her. The lip paint appeared to be a pretense to let her see around her.

Nora noticed her and smiled. “Did you find your pins?”

“Yes,” Triana replied.

Nora turned her attention to the pinseller. “A small pot of the carmine, please. These pins, and the bit of ribbon.”

Triana watched Nora carefully as she finished her purchase. The other woman had grown tense. Triana resisted the temptation to look back to see if someone had followed. Nora steered them across the market, moving more quickly. They left the market on the opposite side from where they had entered, moving a bit faster than a regular walking pace, then proceeded down a narrower street, and into a lower-class part of town. Triana caught the smells of old cooking oil and the whiff of chamber pots set out beside doors. No flowing water-closets here! Triana could feel her own anxiety rise as Nora’s tension communicated itself to her. Why did she bring me here? Are we being followed? Is this a trap of some sort? Triana gathered herself, ready to sprint back to the square. She could probably ask her way to Haldeen’s estate from there, though no doubt any pursuers would know the city better than she.

She tensed as they turned a corner and approached a small stone building with well-barred windows. Everything here seemed to be made of stone—although, given that monsters attacked regularly, that was probably all for the best. Nora gestured for Triana to enter the building. She did, stiffening as felt Nora’s hand on her back.

A wooden counter inside divided them from the sole attendant. Nora stepped past her and spoke in low tones as a wary-looking elf studied papers she gave him. After a time, he nodded and passed over a single paper-wrapped object a bit smaller than a clay brick, and some smaller and brightly colored though worn-looking papers that Nora quickly tucked into her satchel.

Triana looked a question at her.

“Do you mind if we conduct a little business first?” Nora said brightly, then steered them towards a side street. Triana had no chance to respond before Nora swept them away. Triana quickly became lost as Nora led them, chatting gaily about this and that, and guiding them from one street to another. Triana had never had to try to conceal her movements, or try to evade someone following her, but she knew the theory. Nora’s behavior fit the bill, particularly once she swept a brown cloak out of her satchel and over her shoulders. Triana’s worry grew again. What is she playing at?

Triana wondered if she were the reason for this little cloak-and-dagger tableau, or Nora was using this outing as an excuse to get out of that walled building for her own reasons. The latter seemed certainly more interesting, if true.

She let herself be steered for some time and across distinctly different neighborhoods. The social classes might live cheek by jowl, but the building styles and sizes had boundaries that looked to have been cut with a knife. They left the poorer neighborhood, then crossed what Triana interpreted as moderately wealthy … a better class of tradesmen and the like … and crossed a street to smaller and shabbier dwellings. Thirty feet and into a different world, this one of laborers. They continued on another short distance until they came to another high-walled building, where Triana could hear … was that children playing? She listened for a moment. Yes, the high-pitched laughing and shrill shouting, the exuberance of young children, and the unpleasantness that went with it. She acknowledged that she might have been born with one maternal bone, but … if so, it had been taken, along with her ribs.

Nora made straight for the gate, and tapped lightly, then waited for a response. The gate opened and a woman stepped out. She embraced Nora warmly and quickly ushered them in.

The children swarmed around Nora, clearly delighted, and she knelt to give them all hugs, smiling happily. Triana held back, awkward and uncomfortable. Her own recent bout with a child’s disease would have made her wary on general principles, but she intensely disliked everything about children. She swore under her breath, feeling a bit ill-used.

“You said a bad word.” A small voice came up from what felt like Triana’s knee-level. She looked down. A little girl.