"All right." Weariness washed over her, and the kind of sadness she had spent her life trying to keep at bay. She stood up. "Do you mind if I go lie down?" she asked. "The journey was very tiring."

She wanted to make a good exit, but her balance seemed to have deserted her. She staggered against Richard St Vier, and for the first time in her life she felt the swordsman's hand close around her, warm and firm on her elbow, holding her up. "Are you all right?" he asked. And she thought,No, I'm not all right. I'm stuffed with your sweet Alec's child!

She said, "I'm fine. Just tired, is all."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, and she thought somehow he knew, he knew with his supernaturally clever body that had kept him alive through so many fights, through his years in the streets and taverns, somehow it saw her and recognized her distress, her condition, and he knew-but then he went on, "Will you wait and ride back with me? or are you in a hurry to go home?"

Rose closed her eyes. "I don't know. I need to think about things. It's been a difficult season. I might stay here awhile; the rest would do me good. After that...we'll see. Life in the theatre is so unpredictable."

chapterVII.

SERIOUS SWORD-PRACTICE MADE ME FORGET TOthink in words, so that I didn't always understand when people spoke to me. I had been at it for some time, drilling first to a rhythm, and then tricking myself with changes, when Marcus came in and said something.

I shook sweat out of my eyes. "What?"

"I've got some time free. It's nearly dark, you'll have to stop soon anyway." "Yes, all right." I stretched out around the room, carefully polished the sword and put it away.

"Good, Katie. Now that I have your attention, I thought I'd invite you out for a night on the town. What do you think?"

I'd just begun to get my breath back from practice, but now my heart started beating hard again.

Something about his jaunty nonchalance, just a little too studied...He was up to something, and he was mighty pleased with himself. "A night out in Riverside?" I did my best to match his tone. "How naughty.

How daring. Why not? What's up?"

Marcus negligently kicked the stand so that all the swords rattled back in place. "I'm taking you to Glinley's."

That undid me; I barely managed not to squeak. I had to call on the duke for backup: "Oh, re-eally?" I said, in my best Tremontaine.

"Not just the two of us, of course. Your uncle would never permit it." The look on my face must have been enough. Marcus dropped the pose and grinned at me. "It's Perry. He's here right now, and I happen to know he's working tonight. Want to follow him?"

This was ground I knew; stalking Perry was just something we did. "Why not?" I said, but this time I meant it.

I toweled off in my room and changed into a clean shirt with dark clothes and soft boots, and buckled on a sword; it was, after all, night in Riverside. No one was in the kitchen; we helped ourselves to bread and cheese and our favorite ginger beer, and then went out the side kitchen door to wait for Lucius Perry.

He wasn't long in coming. He wore his old-fashioned hooded cloak, with the hood pulled over his head, and he moved quickly. It was a good time of day to be following someone. Although the sky was still pearly in patches between the roofs, down in the street it was dark. I pretended I was a moving shadow, and Marcus, breathing softly next to me, was another. Only Perry was real, as he passed by other shadows, shadows of women heading for clients, shadows of musicians heading for jobs, shadows of thieves heading for houses, shadows of cats heading for food. We were almost to the Bridge when Perry turned down a side street and stopped in front of a large and rambly house with a deep-roofed portico.

"So," I said softly, "that's Glinley's."

"That's Glinley's." Marcus was smug, as if he'd pulled it out of the air for me.

Like our house, Glinley's had once been many small town houses, now knit together into one. Lucius Perry hesitated at the front door and then turned round the side as people came out to set torches in the holders in front.

We drew back further into the shadows. "Now what?" I asked.

"He takes off his clothes and wallows in depravity, what do you think?"

"No, I mean-now what do we do? Shouldn't we follow him?" I heard Marcus's clothes rustle as he pulled back sharply. "Inthere ? You can't go in there!"

"Why not?" Even at Teresa Grey's we had tried to climb the wall.

"Because-because you're a lady!"

I stared at where I knew he was in the darkness. "Marcus," I said. "That is completely idiotic. The duke has just spent half a year making sure I'm not a lady."

"Katie-"

"I'm not going todo anything, Marcus, I just want to see what it looks like inside." I could sense his whole body taut with resistance. "Marcus, have you been in there already without me?"

"No, I haven't. But I know what goes on in places like that."

"Well, so do I. It's just like the duke and all his friends, isn't it?" He was being so protective, it made me want to do something rash just to show him. But I wasn't going in there alone. "You've said it yourself: it's just full of people copulating. It can't be any worse than home. What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything. It's just, you won't like it."

"If I don't like it, or you don't like it, we'll leave."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I only want to see, that's all. Like Teresa Grey's: we'll just look, we won't do anything."

"Good," he said, "because it costs money, and we don't have enough. You're right. It is just a house. A house, and some people doing what people do everywhere. Nothing to worry about. Let's go."

I followed him as he strode across the street into the circle of light and under the dark porch of Glinley's front door. "Now what?" I whispered. "Do we just knock, or what?"

"There's a bell." Marcus turned the plain brass door-pull. After a moment that was just long enough to belie the fact that people were always waiting for it to ring, the door opened. Light from inside nearly blinded us. A stocky, muscular man stood there, plainly dressed, quietly armed. I felt his eyes flicking up and down, sizing up our clothes and our purses.

"Well, hello there," he said to Marcus. "Fancy seeing you here after all this time. What's your pleasure, then?"

Marcus drew himself up. "We're here to see Mistress Glinley," he said haughtily.

That worked. What we were going to tell her, I had no idea, but the man drew back and bowed, and let us in.

The halls were dark and shadowy, well suited to a house of vice. I'm sure brothels uptown are better lit.

It was all part of what the duke liked to call the Riverside Flair. We followed the man to a small room hung in red, with a fainting couch prominently placed next to a little round table. He lit the candles. There was a decanter of wine and two glasses on the table. Marcus stood there watching while the man filledboth glasses of wine for us. Where did he know Marcus from? Maybe the man had worked for the duke once.

"I'm sure you and your...friend will be comfortable here," the man told him, glancing at the couch. I wondered how many women with swords he saw each week. He looked back again at Marcus, and his face shifted in a sly way. He said, "Very comfortable for you, sir. Tremontaine business, is it, sir?"

Marcus turned his back, and took a glass of wine. "I thought," he said, "you were paid not to ask questions here."

"Oh, no, sir, of course, sir." The man bowed his way out of the room, leaving us in sole possession of couch, candles and wine.

"Well, I'm impressed." I plumped myself down, testing the couch. It appeared to be stuffed with goose down. "That was quick thinking, Marcus. You've got him on the run, cheeky villain. I don't know what we'll tell Mistress Glinley, but we'll think of something, won't we?"

"She'll think we're from the duke." Marcus drank. "I hope she doesn't tell him, that's all."

"What do you think this room is used for?" I bounced a few times, keeping my sword nicely out of the way. "Do you think people come here in pairs, or do they send someone in? Would we both fit on this couch?"

"Quit that." He held me still with both hands on my shoulders. "You're not five years old."

"I'll bounce if I want to. That's what it's there for."

He stood looking down at me, his two hands on my shoulders. "You know, Lady Katherine, if you screamed in here, no one would care."

"I know." I stopped bouncing and looked up into his eyes. "I could say the same to you."

"They'd just think we were having fun."

His eyes were dark, the pupils large in the candlelight. "Well, that's what it's here for, isn't it?" I said.

"Of course."

"Do you want to try anything, then?"

"Yes," he said, so suddenly I had only just heard him when his mouth was down on mine. It was hard and warm and exotic and very, very nice. I kept my arms at my sides. His fingers were still; everything was happening with our mouths, which changed shapes and textures to accommodate all sorts of feelings.

My eyes were closed. I felt the velvet under my hand, and I wanted to sink down into it while his mouth and mine explored.

A gentle knock on the door made it necessary to stop. No one might care if we screamed, but one of us did have to say, "Come in."

Nan Glinley was everyone's vision of a perfect mother: small, round, placid and pleasant-faced. She was gowned in grey, and her hair was modestly coiffed in the manner of city women. I could tell from the wayshe looked at me only once that she knew who I was. But she spoke to both of us. "How can I help you?"

"Um," I said, and Marcus said, "We're investigating."

"My house," its mistress asked, "or yourselves?"

Was it that obvious? I guess it was. With the little sense left to me, I realized that if we stayed in there alone, Marcus and I could very well end up naked on the couch, and that was not what I had come to Glinley's for. "I want to see a man," I said imperiously. "A really, really handsome one. Dark haired, not too young-experienced, that is. Classy, though. Not trash."

"I see." She turned to Marcus. "And you?"

"Me, too," he said swiftly, having caught my plan. "We're together."

"Shall I show you what's available?"

I nodded. We would find Lucius Perry in here, actually see him in place in the halls of Glinley's House of You-Know-What. Why waste the chance? After that, we could go.

"You may select a partner first, if you like, and then we can all discuss what sort of setting you'd prefer, and what combination. Or we can sit down together now and decide in advance-"

"Oh, lord!" I exclaimed gauchely as I caught her drift. "I mean-we just want to look-to see-"

"Ah." Nan Glinley nodded. "Hidden observation? We can accommodate that."

I let out a breath of relief, and only hoped she didn't hear. No way on earth was I ending up on a couch with Lucius Perry, and neither was Marcus.

"Discretion, I think, is key here," she said, "given your tender years. We'll let you go masked while you search. Excuse me just a moment."

Nan Glinley left the room. Marcus and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Hidden observation!" That's what we'd been doing all along.

"We'll never get away with this," Marcus chortled nervously.

"What if they throw us out?" I put my hands over my mouth to keep in the laughter.

"Get a grip on yourself and they won't. Start thinking up a story-"

Nan Glinley came back, carrying a bundle. "You might like to disarm," she said. "Your weapon will be safe here. Unless that's part of your personal preference...?"

She knew perfectly well it wasn't. But she was treating us like real clients. I was impressed. If I ever really did want a little experience, this would be the place to get it, with a nice woman like that taking care of me. I took off my sword with a rueful smile to say of course we wouldn't be needing it in this lovely woman's house. Nothing was forbidden at Glinley's, but privacy was respected. We were encased in silk capes from neck to toe, surmounted by masks with animal faces. I was a cat, and Marcus was an owl. He cut a caper in the corridor, so that his shadow danced winged on the wall. "Come," said Mistress Glinley, and we followed her through the halls.

We started by looking through peep holes into bedrooms decorated in various styles. They were also decorated with young men sitting or lying around trying to keep themselves amused. It was too early for them to be busy, but clearly they were expecting to be very busy soon. One was painting his nails, one practicing the guitar. Another was smoothing oil all over his body; I was tempted to stay and see what happened with him next-but it wasn't Perry, after all.

"No?" Nan Glinley asked us at the end of the corridor.

We shook our heads.

"Then let us try the Flower Garden."

The Flower Garden was amazing: an indoor room with a pool surrounded by plants, strewn with a variety of bodies scantily clad. We picked our way amongst them, feeling almost indecently overdressed, and moving strangely because we had to turn our heads to see anything through the eyeholes of the masks. Cloaked as we were, we had no gender. Bodies of both men and women did what they could to entice us: a languid glance, a flutter of fingers, a roll of the hips. Suddenly it all seemed possible-not seemed, but was-to take one by the hand, go off and learn to minister to desire in perfect safety. I licked my lips. That one...or that one...the golden hair just edging above the trouser line, but how swiftly they'd slip off to reveal the whole...the soft breasts floating unconfined beneath the gauze, to be nuzzled, stroked, explored....

"Comeon !" hissed Marcus.

"Are you made of stone?" I whispered back.

He said, "They're only whores," as though their very availability rendered them worthless.

We nearly missed Lucius Perry altogether. He was dressed like some nobleman wandered down from the Hill, in black brocade and silver lace. But his face was painted like a mask, skin powdered to white, and his eyes, with blue and gold on the lids, were lined with black, so that they seemed immense. His lips were stained red as old blood. He was sitting solitary by a fountain, staring at the water. He looked very helpless, fragile and alone. It wasn't only his painted face that made him unrecognizable-I'd never seen those qualities in him before. I wondered if he was doing it on purpose, if it was a mask he liked to wear.

He did have a choice, after all.

Marcus raised his arm and pointed. Perry's eyes flicked our way, and he rose in one graceful movement.

But Nan Glinley came forward and put her hand on his arm and murmured something low to him. He nodded and walked out of the room.

"You like him, do you?" She smiled. "You've made a good choice. And you're in luck; he's got some clients arranged, and he doesn't mind being watched tonight."

Now was the time to tell her,No, that's all right, we don't want to see any of that, thanks; sorry to bother you, we're just leaving.... Nobody's ever really died from embarrassment, have they? I turnedto catch Marcus's gaze so I could pick up his thoughts, but of course the stupid costumes made it impossible. My friend was an owl. And I was amazed to hear his muffled voice saying, "Good," from behind the mask. "I'd like that. I want to see what he does. I want to see how he does it."

Well, if he did, so did I. This was better than anything we'd see at Teresa Grey's-or anything we wanted to see there-wasn't it? The final piece to Perry's puzzle, and practically with his consent.

She led us to a little cupboard of a room. We took off our capes and masks and gave them to her. "I'll be back in an hour," Nan Glinley said. "That should be enough." Well, it should. I could always close my eyes if it got to be too much. I turned my attention to the room.