Her cats! Evvy sighed. Without coppers from Nahim today, she couldn’t buy dried fish for them as she’d planned. She’d better get back to Oldtown. If she had enough time before dark, she might be able to catch some lizards on the rocks atop the Heights. That would satisfy the cats at least, and she could eat bread she’d hidden away.
Below her the Camelguts were pounding the lone Viper. The jade-eyed boy had a mean streak, it seemed, setting them against the Viper like that. Crazy eknub, Evvy thought. Don’t go pawing at my life! Straightening, she trotted down the rooftop road.
In the cool hours of the evening, Lady Zenadia doa Attaneh reclined on the sofa that was placed for her comfort in her garden. She was the picture of a Chammuran noblewoman in wide skirts, head veil, and draped sari, all made of expensive maroon silk embroidered in gold at the hems. Her short gold blouse, baring a midriff as lean and supple in her fifties as it had been when she was a girl, was hemmed with teardrop-shaped pearls, its neckline and sleeves with tiny seed pearls. Obedient to custom, she wore a silk veil before her male guests, but the gold fabric was so sheer that her gold nose ring and the fine gold chain that hung between it and her earring were visible, as was her crimson lip paint. The veil only covered her nose and the lower part of her face, leaving her large, dark eyes with their strong black brows bare. Between her eyes glimmered the unfaceted emerald that marked her status as a widow.
As if they had been placed to form the rudest possible contrast to her elegance, the Vipers who had talked to Briar in the souk knelt three feet from her couch, palms and foreheads pressed to the blue patio tiles. The rough shirts and breeches that she had bought for them were clean — no one went dirty into her presence — but cloth and make were no better than what she gave to her lowliest servants. Only brass nose rings, with a garnet drop hanging from them, set them apart from rag peddlers and camel drovers. The boys had told her about the foreign lad who had marked a street girl as a mage, then turned into trouble for the youth who had followed him. Now they awaited the lady’s verdict.
“I have no interest in eknub pahans,” she commented at last, staring into the distance. Her voice was deep and musical, almost hypnotic in its effect on her guests. “They are troublesome, and they are not of Chammur. They are beneath my attention. But he told this girl she might have stone magic?”
The tallest Viper, the lean, brown-skinned youth who was their tesku, or leader, looked up from the tiles. He was the one who had told Briar that he looked and moved like a thief. His eyes were fixed on the lady, as if she were his sun. “He asked her how her magic made the stones light up, Lady,” he repeated. “He wanted to know if she called on the power in the stones, or if she just put a charm on them.”
The lady turned her large eyes on him and smiled. “You may approach me, Ikrum Fazhal,” she said. The thin tesku crawled forward until she placed a gentle hand on his dark hair. “You were wise to report this to me. A Chammuran pahan is always useful, but a street child from Oldtown, new to her power, and that power with stones — such a pahan has, umm,” she hummed, “unique possibilities. She would be grateful to those who took her in, would she not? You need not answer,” she added when Ikrum opened his mouth. “Tell my Vipers to watch for this child, and to bring her to me when she is found.”
She lifted her hand from Ikrum’s head; he promptly crawled back to join the other two. It had taken painful training, but now all the Vipers who were permitted into her presence knew exactly what her unspoken signals meant, and obeyed them.
“As for these others, the ones who assaulted our Sajiv —” The lady flipped her fingers at the third Viper, a lean, brown youth with tightly curled black hair.
“Camelguts,” he muttered. His nose bled sluggishly: they had torn out his ring and garnet drop.
“Dreadful word,” the lady said with disgust. “What is their strength?’
“Twenty-six boys and girls,” Ikrum said promptly.
The lady inspected the patterns that had been drawn in henna on her palms. “Fewer than the Gate Lords,” she murmured, naming the gang who controlled the streets between the Hajra Gate and Golden House, the ones whose colors were black and white. “Fewer, and poorer.” She looked up at her guests. “They must learn respect for my Vipers. I have obtained enough weapons for you at last. Armsmaster Ubayid —” She raised a finger. An older man standing in the shadows by the gallery approached and bowed to her. “You will present my Vipers with weapons, those, those blackjacks. Instruct them in their proper use.” Ubayid bowed to her again. To the boys the lady said, “Once you have taught the other Vipers the use of blackjacks, you will enter Camelgut” — she wrinkled her nose — “territory by stealth. Separate these upstarts from their gang one or two at a time. Take them coming and going from their homes, when they will not be with a group. Deal with them harshly, and leave them where they will be found. Try not to be seen. The less people know, the more they will fear. Am I understood?”
The Vipers nodded vigorously.
The lady smiled at them. “When you judge the Camelguts to be on the brink of collapse, offer to admit them to the Vipers.” The kneeling youths stirred, on the verge of protest. She touched her forefinger to her lips over the veil. “You have said the Gate Lords possess the advantage of numbers. Here is a way to increase yours. Of course, the newcomers must prove their loyalty before they can be fully accepted into your ranks.” She looked them over. “You will have to trust me. I understand these things as you do not. Now. Ubayid, before you give them weapons or lessons, feed my hardworking boys,” she ordered. “Not too much, of course. Information is precious, but not as precious as victories.” She dismissed them and her armsmaster with a flick of the hand.