Between Worlds: the Collected Ile-Rien and Cineth Stories by Martha Wells Read Free Book Online

maid, escorted her outside, and handed her into the coach.
    Once they were settled and clopping down the street,
he explained, “My friend will join us on the way. If anyone asks, tell them he’s
been commissioned by your family to acquire a painting, and he’s escorting you
tonight as a favor to them.” Reynard took in her lack of expression, and
somewhat tight grip on her reticule. Her gown was a wine-colored silk, and
looked lovely on her, though the lack of décolletage suggested it had been
chosen by her mother or a sensible maid. “He isn’t going to proposition you.”
    The set of Belina’s shoulders relaxed a little. She
asked, a little mulish and a little plaintive, “Why not?”
    “You’re too young for him, for one thing. For the
other...” Reynard tried to think of a succinct way to explain Nicholas and gave
up. “He just isn’t going to proposition you.”
    Belina nodded understanding. “He doesn’t like women?”
    “He doesn’t like anyone.”
    “Why are you helping us? Helping me. Amadel said he
had the impression you really didn’t care about the money, or if you were paid
or not.”
    Amadel was perceptive. It was really too bad he wasn’t
interested in an assignation. Reynard explained, “A friend of mine was targeted
by a blackmailer. It didn’t end well for him. Reducing the number of
blackmailers in the city provides me with some comfort.”
    Belina leaned forward. “So you are going to kill him.”
    “Belina.” Reynard regarded her patiently. “In the
circle in which you are traveling tonight, we don’t ask that sort of question.”
    She thumped back against the seat. “But what if it was
my fault? What if I caused him to do this--”
    “To make sorcerously-created obscene photographs? He
didn’t come up with that because he was so stricken by the awkward rebuff of,
forgive me, a schoolgirl who then apologized for her actions. He’s done this
before.” Even if it was the first time, even if there was no plan or ulterior
motive, a sorcerer who would do this was plainly a menace. It was Idilane’s
misfortune that he had chosen the wrong victim.
    Belina still frowned, but clearly decided to table the
argument for another time.
    * * *
    Ten blocks from the opera, as the coach paused to wait
for a cabriolet to clear the way, the door opened. Nicholas swung inside and
dropped into the seat opposite Belina. He was dressed impeccably for the opera,
in a dark suit with a light-colored waistcoat, and a hat and cane.
    Reynard said hastily, “Miss Belina Shankir-Clare, this
is Nicholas Valiarde.”
    Nicholas frowned. “How old are you? Should you even be
out without a chaperone?”
    Belina shared a glance with Reynard, her expression
eloquent. “I think I’ve got a chaperone,” she muttered.
    Reynard asked Nicholas, “Do you have it?”
    Nicholas produced a glass ball, small enough to fit
into the palm of his hand. “Of course.”
    Belina leaned forward. “What is it?”
    Reynard told Belina, “It’s a spell that will distract
and confuse a sorcerer for a few moments, and prevent him from using his
powers.” It wouldn’t trouble any serious practitioner, but from what Nicholas
had said, the things were designed to work on Lodun sorcery students and used
by them to bedevil each other at parties. It would provide an instant of
distraction at the right moment, which was all they might need.
    Nicholas lifted the shade over the window to check the
street. “It’s clear.”
    Reynard just hoped Arisilde Damal had been relatively
sober when he had provided it. He shifted over and put a hand on the doorlatch.
“I’ll see you later, Miss Shankir-Clare.”
    Belina nodded anxiously, and Reynard swung the door
open and stepped out onto the walk. The coach clattered away, and Reynard
adjusted his coat, and started to walk toward the theater district.
    * * *
    Reynard arrived just at twilight, taking up a position
across the street where he had a good view of the the opera’s grand