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the
civilized moment. We’ll have few enough of them.” Our
gazes locked. For a moment there were sparks of challenge in hers.
I looked away. “How did you manage to enlist those two clowns
in your charade?”
    “A donative.”
    I laughed. Of course. Anything for money. “And how soon
will
The Dark Wings
be ready to sail?”
    “Two days. Three at the most. And no, I won’t be
handling any imperial business while I’m here.”
    “Uhm. Good. I’m stuffed to the gills and ripe for
roasting. We ought to go walk this off, or something. Is there a
reasonably safe place we could go?”
    “You probably know Opal better than I do, Croaker.
I’ve never been here before.”
    I suppose I looked surprised.
    “I can’t be everywhere. There was a time when I was
preoccupied in the north and east. A time when I was preoccupied
with putting my husband down. A time when I was preoccupied with
catching you. There never was a time when I was free for broadening
travel.”
    “Thank the stars.”
    “What?”
    “Meant to be a compliment. On your youthful
figure.”
    She gave me a calculating look. “I won’t say
anything to that. You’ll stick it all in your
Annals.”
    I grinned. Threads of smoke snaked between my teeth.
    I swore I’d get them.
     
----

----

Chapter Seven: SMOKE AND THE WOMAN
    Willow figured you could pick Smoke for what he was in any
crowd. He was a wrinkled, skinny little geek that looked like
somebody tried to do him in black walnut husk stain, only they
missed some spots. There were spatters of pink on the backs of his
hands, one arm, and one side of his face. Like maybe somebody threw
acid at him and it killed the color where it hit him.
    Smoke had not done anything to Willow. Not yet. But Willow did
not like him. Blade did not care one way or another. Blade
didn’t care much about anybody. Cordy Mather said he was
reserving judgment. Willow kept his dislike back out of sight,
because Smoke was what he was and because he hung out with the
Woman.
    The Woman was waiting for them, too. She was browner than Smoke
and most anyone else in town, as far as Willow knew. She had a mean
face that made it hard to look at her. She was about average size
for Taglian women, which was not very big by Swan’s
standards. Except for her attitude of “I am the boss”
she would not have stood out much. She did not dress better than
old women Willow saw in the streets. Black crows, Cordy called
them. Always wrapped up in black, like old peasant women they saw
when they were headed down through the territories of the Jewel
Cities.
    They had not been able to find out who the Woman was, but they
knew she was somebody. She had connections in the
Prahbrindrah’s palace, right up at the top. Smoke worked for
her. Fishwives didn’t have wizards on the payroll. Anyway,
both of them acted like officials trying not to look official. Like
they did not know how to be regular people.
    The place they met was somebody’s house. Somebody
important, but Willow had not yet figured who. The class lines and
heirarchies did not make sense in Taglios. Everything was always
screwed up by religious affiliation.
    He entered the room where they waited, helped himself to a
chair. Had to show them he wasn’t some boy to run and fetch
at their beck. Cordy and Blade were more circumspect. Cordy winced
as Willow said, “Blade says you guys want to kick it up
’bout Smoke’s nightmares. Maybe pipe dreams?”
    “You have a very good idea why you interest us, Mr. Swan.
Taglios and its dependencies have been pacifistic for centuries.
War is a forgotten art. It’s been unnecessary. Our neighbors
were equally traumatized by the passage—”
    Willow asked Smoke, “She talking Taglian?”
    “As you wish, Mr. Swan.” Willow caught a hint of
mischief in the Woman’s eye. “When the Free Companies
came through they kicked ass so damned bad that for three hundred
years anybody who even looked at a sword got so scared he puked his
guts