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

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entrance. Classical statues were carved into the façade and gilded figures danced
above the pediment, and the fountains with ornamental lamps that stood in front
of the building provided a shadow-show of moving light and water. The area was
already noisy with early arrivals and the flower and sweet sellers and drink
vendors were setting up along the opposite promenade. Reynard strolled over to
one and ordered a coffee.
    Coaches arrived sporadically and deposited minor
nobility or wealthy patrons, dressed in their formal fashionable best. A number
of people of the less fashionable sets were walking in, it being easier to have
a cabriolet drop you off at the corner than fight its way into the line of
personal coaches. Though it wasn’t quite as crowded as usual tonight. Reynard
attributed that to the fact that the performance was the old standby Life of
the Good Duke , put on to keep the company warm and up to scratch before the
real opening of the season next month. Nicholas had pointed out that it made an
excellent cover, since it was an opera that people often took young relatives
to, because they were the only ones who weren’t sick to death of it. It was
just not the sort of opera that the Gamethon Club attended to be rowdy at.
    Not long later, the coach pulled into the carriage
circle, and Nicholas stepped down and handed Belina out. As the coach drove
away, Reynard watched carefully, but saw no one give them a second glance. Well,
one woman, but Reynard suspected she was only admiring Belina’s dress. Belina
herself was trying to look at ease while stealing glances at the other arriving
patrons. Reynard waited until they were through the front doors, then handed
his cup back to the coffee-vendor, crossed the street and made his own way in.
    The big double doors opened into a three-story
pillared gallery, lit by crystal and gilt gas lamps and lined with different
colors of marble, all the way up to the paintings covering the arched ceiling. The
subjects were all classical, sex, death, and warfare, very appropriate to the
usual preoccupations of opera. He navigated through the crowd and across the
marble-floored entryway and went up the right side of the staircase. He didn’t
note any acquaintance, which was fortunate. More new arrivals were milling
around the grand foyer on the second floor.
    After a moment, he spotted Nicholas and Belina. Nicholas
had secured a glass of soda negus for Belina and was radiating “friend of the
family escorting young lady in an entirely paternal manner.” Then a young man
in cavalry officer’s uniform approached Belina. Reynard saw her shoulders
stiffen and her chin lift and knew this was no friendly acquaintance. He
strolled close enough to listen, pretending to be waiting in the outer circle
of Lady Villechasse’s admirers.
    The young man was saying, “This isn’t a palace ball,
my dear, we don’t need to be acquainted to speak.”
    Belina said, “Sir, I don’t know you, and you need to
leave me alone.” Her voice was quaking with what Reynard read as a combination
of nerves and rage.
    “Of course you’d have to say that here. I’ll join you
in your box, shall I--” It wasn’t a question.
    Sounding a little bored, Nicholas said, “Leave, and do
not attempt to speak to her again.”
    “And who are you?” The young man eyed Nicholas with
contempt. “Too old to be a suitor, I think. If her family has hired you to
escort her--”
    “I won’t tell you again.” Nicholas didn’t move but his
weight shifted.
    The young man was stubborn. “You’re unarmed.”
    Reynard rolled his eyes. If this young idiot
challenged Nicholas to a duel, he wasn’t going to be able to keep his
countenance.
    Nicholas’s smile implied physical violence would be a
terrible mistake. He said, “Draw your sword and find out.”
    The young man hesitated a long moment, became
flustered under Nicholas’ steady regard, then withdrew. Reynard tracked his
progress across the crowd, but he