“What about the circus women?” Karigan asked him.
“Huh?”
“The circus women. How is their modesty level?”
“That’s different. They don’t count.”
“Really? Why not?”
“They’re circus performers,” he said, as if that should explain all.
“So it’s all right for them not to cover themselves with veils?”
“It is the way it is,” he said gruffly.
Some of the so-called modest women were giving Cade studied second looks through their veils as they passed by. If they only knew he wanted nothing to do with the opposite gender.
Something caught his attention and without warning he angled off across the ring. Karigan hurried to catch up. Fortunately the sawdust of the ring had been removed and replaced with wood flooring, otherwise her skirts would have raised quite a cloud and all the fine attire of the guests would be coated in a layer of dust.
Cade halted before one of the exhibits Hadley had mentioned. It was a life-sized sculpture of a p’ehdrose—part man, part moose—and enormous. The moose part looked authentic, as if the neck and head of a real moose had been removed, the body stuffed by a taxidermist, and the torso of an oversized man inserted into the shoulders and chest of the moose. The human part was not quite so well rendered, the skin looking like the texture and color of parchment, and puckered, the hair of his beard and head strawlike. The figure held a bow with arrow nocked, as if about to loose it.
“I’ve read about this,” Cade said, an expression of wonder on his face. “It’s part of the emperor’s private collection.”
Karigan had thought Amberhill had better taste than this. The figure was, she thought, grotesque. Then she read the inscription on the brass plaque on the platform that held the figure: This, the last known p’ehdrose in the world, the chieftain, Ghallos, was hunted and slain by the emperor in the first year of his reign.
“Ghallos’s mate must still be at the palace,” Cade said.
“Mate?” A horrible feeling came over Karigan.
“Yes, her name was Edessa. The emperor hunted all their people to extinction.”
“They’re real?” Karigan clapped her hand over her mouth to prevent further outbursts. As it was, Cade wasn’t the only one giving her peculiar looks.
“Of course they were real,” Cade said. “You see the evidence before you.”
Karigan was glad she hadn’t had any wine for she suddenly felt ill. The figure before her was not just an artistic rendering of a p’ehdrose, but an actual p’ehdrose. A taxidermied p’ehdrose.
No one in her own time had ever seen one, in fact no one had in known history. They were legends, just like Eletians had been, until the Eletians decided to make themselves known to the world again. It was said that the horn carried by the First Rider had been given to her by a p’ehdrose, but that had been a story.
She could hardly believe it. The p’ehdrose were real. She was both appalled and fascinated by the stuffed specimen and could not help but stare at it, the human part muscular and powerful, the head positioned in a proud tilt, glass eyes shining in the light.
“Admiring old Ghallos, are we?” It was Dr. Silk, and before Karigan knew it, he was bowing over her hand.
“I’ve always wished to see him,” Cade said, “and his mate.”
“Ghallos is on loan for this one special evening,” Dr. Silk replied. “Alas, we left Edessa at the palace as insurance that should some accident befall Ghallos, at least one specimen would remain. He is in good condition, is he not? When he was mounted, though, the technique for preserving the human part of his flesh had not been perfected. A tricky thing, that, the preservation of human flesh.”
Karigan felt even more nauseated and turned her back to the display, unable to look any longer at poor Ghallos. She was thrilled that the p’ehdrose were real, but now they were extinct. Why had Amberhill done that? Why had he destroyed everything?
“I’m sorry, is it too much, the display of this beast?” Dr. Silk asked her. “I know you have, er, delicate sensibilities.”
Cade stepped between the two of them. “Are you all right, Miss Goodgrave?”
Now he decided to pay her attention?
“They stuffed a p’ehdrose,” she murmured, still incredulous.
“Miss Goodgrave?” He peered at her as if trying to see through her veil.
She shook herself remembering who she was and who stood nearby. “I wish to see something else.”
“I have just the thing,” Dr. Silk said, pushing Cade aside. He hooked his arm around hers and led her away.
At first Karigan stiffened at his touch, but she forced herself to relax. It was a perfectly acceptable and gentlemanly gesture, though in her time she would have been asked for her approval first.
Cade followed so closely he practically stepped on her heels.
“I am sorry your uncle could not join us this evening,” Dr. Silk said.
She doubted that very much, but she nodded as if accepting his apology. “He is busy with work tonight.”
“I’m sure he is,” Dr. Silk said in a voice like a purr. “He is often busy. And what is my esteemed colleague working on these days?”
Karigan narrowed her eyes. Was he hoping to attain some unguarded information from her? In answer, she shrugged, and said very carefully, “Old forks and spoons, I think. Mr. Harlowe would know the particulars.”