Shadowkill

7

Autumn Rose lifted the mask, dropped it over her head, and adjusted the eyeholes so she could see without difficulty. It wasn’t actually a mask, but a headsman’s cowl in soft thick velvet, long enough to fall in graceful folds over her shoulders. She leaned closer to the mirror, adjusting the folds to leave the deep vee of her dress uncovered and the necklace of rough crystal and knotted silver wire.

Kikun moved into the mirror field.

Rose gasped, twitched, then had to rearrange the hood folds. “Z’ Toyff, Kuna!”

He grinned at her. “You look marvelous, Rose.”

“Sss!” She smoothed her hands down her sides, the black sychoura clinging softly to her palms. “Magical. Yesss.”

After a last inspection, she straightened her shoulders and went out.

The Mewa Room had eight sides and seven doors. Six were doors to secure-suites for the Players. The High Vaar went home for bed.

The seventh was the exit.

The room was rich with dark woods and green velvet, a green-on-beige rug, rich red-brown wood paneling. There was a deep glow from crystal lamps on the walls and the massive chandelier hanging above the Vagnag table.

Low benches set against the walls between the doors were piled with green and gold cushions.

Dasuttras were arranged like flowers among the cushions, faces, bosoms, and arms printed with flowerforms in the pink dyes of ancient custom, long hair down and gleaming under chainmetal caps set with moonstones and jasper, citrine and turquoise, peridot and aquamarine, semiprecious gems catching the light like drops of colored oil. In one corner two Dasuttras were playing flute and lute, unobtrusive wallpaper sounds.

Autumn Rose walked in and felt her soul expand. This was her realm, hers again. She belonged here. If she’d needed that little extra bit of confidence, the room gave it to her.

Three men stood beside the table talking in low voices, two hooded, the third, Jao juhFeyn.

He crossed to her, held out a silver brooch, a full-blown rose on a circle. “Autumn Rose.”

As she pinned it on, Jao stepped back, gestured. “Sun-hawk.”

A tall paunchy man nodded. His brooch was a raptor on a rayed circle.

“Hiu-shark.”

The second man inclined his head. His brooch was a leaping shark on a plain circle.

One by one the others came, each by his separate door, received his brooch and was introduced by his use-name. Snowcat. Tanduk-viper. Direwolf.

The last man was tall and solid, a crackle to him when he moved. His brooch was a barracuda arching openmouthed across a silver circle. When he saw Rose, he jerked his head up, turned to juhFeyn. “A woman?”

“You object?”

“If I did?”

“You’re free to leave.”

“I see.” He shrugged, pinned the brooch on, and stood waiting for juhFeyn to seat them.

Kikun squatted in the corner and watched the Players roll for order. He smiled when he saw that Rose got the lead; it’s where she wanted to be.

Grandmother Ghost pinched his ear. Get your mind on why you’re here, lazy boy.

He forgot about the game and looked at each of the men.

Oozing out of the wall, feathers rustling, brushing against him, small distracting tickles, Gaagi bent over him, whispered in his ear:

This is catalog of men.

Sunhawk: the High Vaar Tidak Beruba

Hiushark: Overleader of the Metug Pirates

Tanduk: Vaarlord of Haemunda Pamina

Snowcat: Zly Zlostin, the Vamcac of Dama’tvedd

Direwolf: Attata Marteau, exec of Cazar Company

Barracuda: Enfilik Abrusso, Grand Chom of the Mimishay Foundation, a Power in Omphalos

Gaagi came whirling out of the wall, leaping high into the air, landed on the table, shook his behind in Barracuda’s face. Xumady giggled, dived from the dark, and joined Raven on the table, doing a Mock-Shock Dance, a satiric curse on the target. They finished with a howl and a swirl and dissolved into the dark.

Kikun ignored them and watched Barracuda.

The Omphalite was angry. Every time he looked at Rose he clenched his gut. He was going to go after her any way he could. Kikun smiled. Good. That was stupid and it was likely to break him fast. Yes. The sooner the better.