Magic Steps - Пирс Тамора - Страница 19

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Sandry almost goggled, but caught herself in time it was unladylike. Instead she returned the curtsy. Yazmin Hebet was the most famous dancer around the Pebbled Sea, where the troupes she belonged to had toured for years. Because she danced in public festivals as well as in the castles of the rich, she was popular with all classes of people. Everyone talked of the great Yazmin, from the clothes she wore to the men she was supposed to be in involved with.

"This is an honor," Sandry told her. To Lark she said reproachfully, "I didn't know you were friends with the dancer Yazmin. All you ever said was you had a friend with that name."

Lark grinned. "I assumed you knew most of my friends outside the temple are performers."

Yazmin smiled. She was pretty, with a tiny nose, large brown eyes, and a small, pointed chin. A mole on one smooth cheek accented a broad mouth with a full lower lip. She wore her tumbled mass of brown hair pinned up, with artful curls left to frame her face. When she spoke, her voice squeaked a little, as if she'd spent years raising it. "I'm honored," she told Sandry. "Larks told me so much about you. She says you're the only mage she's ever known who can spin magic."

Sandry blushed. "It was spin magic or die, the first time I tried it," she explained. "I was just lucky I figured out how in time. Please, sit down. What can I do for you?"

"Lark says you have a student who's a dance-mage," replied Yazmнn, arranging her skirts as she sat. "He needs a teacher?"

Sandry looked from Lark to Yazmнn. Was help for Pasco in sight? "You know a dance-mage?" she asked.

"I've never even heard of one," said Yazmнn. "I've seen shamans work dance spells, just as Lark has, but that isn't the only way they do their magic."

Sandry told herself she should have known she hadn't gotten that lucky. "Then you can recommend a teacher for his dancing? I'll pay his fees," she assured Yazmнn. "I can't teach him myself—I know very few dances, and I'm not any good at them."

Yazmнn folded her hands in her lap. They were covered with designs in henna, Sandry noticed, and henna had been used to put red tones in the dancer's hair. She painted her face, too, using kohl to line her eyes and a red coloring on her mouth.

"Actually, I hoped to teach him myself," Yazmнn explained. "You see, I retired this year. I've been a traveling dancer for—,"

"Twenty-three years," murmured Lark.

Yazmнn wrinkled her nose. "You had to remind me. I would have been content with just a long time.»

Sandry giggled, and Yazmнn smiled at her. "You aren't like most nobles I've met," she commented. "Lark said you weren't." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "This summer I opened a school on Festival Street. It's an old warehouse, not fancy, but it's a place where dancers and acrobats can stay and train during the winter. And I've tried to learn the local dances everywhere I've ever been. Your boy could study with me. Between you, me, and Lark, we can craft the kind of spells your boy could do."

"I think you're the answer to my prayers." replied Sandry with relief. "The longer I know him, the more of a handful he is."

"Tell me," Yazmнn ordered.

Sandry did, starting with what she had seen on the beach of the fishing village only two short mornings ago, and going straight on through the foul-up that had set three people hanging in midair. She had finished de scribing her conversation with Pasco's formidable mother at the end of her visit to House Acalon when the door opened and the duke came in.

"My dear, I heard Dedicate Lark was with you and came to say hello," Vedris explained as they all got to their feet.

Lark bowed slightly—temple dedicates were not expected to show great courtesies to nobility. "It's very good to see your grace," she told him with a smile. "You're looking well this morning."

The duke smiled back at her. "The loan of my great-niece has much to do with that, I believe."

"It's good to know she's valued as she ought to be," replied Lark. "Your grace, may I present my friend Yazmнn Hebet?"

Yazmin curtsied deeply, so graceful that Sandry was envious: while she could curtsy well, she was always afraid her knees might creak. When the dancer rose, she offered a hand. The duke bowed and kissed it, then released her. "I am a very great admirer of yours," he confessed. "I've seen you dance on many occasions."

Yazmнn smiled at him. "I have seen your grace at quite a few of my local performances," she remarked. "I'm honored that I was able to entertain you."

"Shall I have the pleasure of seeing you perform this winter?" asked the duke. "I have been considering opening this place up and entertaining a bit, if Sandry would like to be my hostess."

"Yazmнn was just saying that she has retired. Uncle," Sandry pointed out.

"Oh, well, I don't plan to give it all up," protested Yazm н n. "Certainly I’d be delighted to dance for your grace."

"Then I must arrange something." Vedris motioned for the women to sit, and took a chair himself. "Dare I hope you're here to advise my niece regarding her new student?"

Sandry explained as Lark and Yazmнn added details. The duke had a few suggestions for spells they could try in dances, in part because he had seen much more of Yazmнn's repertoire than had Sandry, and in part be cause he had dealt with mages all his life. Twice Yazmнn made him laugh, something that Sandry observed with interest.

When the maid who'd directed Sandry to the room came with a tray of refreshments, she took one look at the gathering and disappeared again. She came back with all that would be needed to serve four instead of three. Once she had set out the food and filled their cups, she left the room. She soon, returned, plainly unhappy, curtsied to the duke, and said, "My apologies, your grace, but that mage my lady provost keeps has been, worriting the footmen—,"

"If you'd just told his grace I was here, I wouldn't have 'worrited' anyone, would I?" inquired Wulfric Snaptrap, coming in on the girls heels. "I told you I needed his grace and my lady right away." His sharp eyes swept the room and returned to Lark. "Though actually I wouldn't mind getting Dedicate Lark's opinion, either. It's news that should go back to the temple in any case."

Yazmнn got to her feet. "Perhaps I should go," she said politely. "My lady, you and your boy can stop by my school whenever you like."

"I see no reason for you to leave, if we may be assured of your discretion," said the duke. "Unless you have pressing errands elsewhere?"

Yazmнn resumed her seat. "None, your grace. You have my word that nothing said here will ever be repeated by me," She touched an index finger to her lips and kissed it in promise of silence. The duke smiled.

Sandry raised her eyebrows. Was Yazmнn flirting? She glanced at Lark, who winked at her. Now, here's an idea, Sandry thought as Wulfric pulled up a chair and the maid left them. Uncle needs someone who can make him laugh. Maybe a romance would do him good. It's been years since his wife died. I know he's lonely.

You aren't even sure Yazmнn is interested, she told herself.

"Is anyone eating these?" asked Wulfric, eyeing the pastries. The duke told him to help himself and he did.

Soon the maid had returned with another tray and a glass for the provost's mage. Once she was gone, Wulfric looked at the duke and said, "I experimented with the magic Lady Sandrilene took off your Guardsmen. We've a problem and a half. The half is dragonsalt. The mage who cast that dark magic is an addict."

"How do you know that?" Sandry asked, fascinated.

Wulfric smiled. "At Lightsbridge, where harrier-mages train, they teach all manner of spells to detect things. I've only performed the dragonsalt cantrip twice before, but I'd a hunch it might work."

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