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will bring you something to drink. I’ll just fetch him; he’s in the cellars.”
    I started a little at hearing the Gaelta name, so near to my own father-given surname. How many Gaelta were here, so far from their old homeland, when there were barely any in Lun?
    Maxen grinned at her, showing nearly all of his fine teeth. “A glass of wine will do, Yana, thank you.”
    She said nothing to this, and she left Maxen and I alone, sitting close together on the settee.
    Maxen’s nerves seemed to have calmed a little, though he was still shifting side to side, as if he had a small but painful thorn lodged in him. He said nothing, but kept on glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. It was, I thought, the look of a man who’d made a large purchase and wasn’t sure if he’d been overcharged.
    A stout, aproned man bustled through, his face ruddy as his hair with exertion. He carried a silver tray, with two glasses; the wine sloshed as he put it down on a side-table. “My pardon,” he said, wiping his hands on his apron. His accent was more musical than Gren’s, but still unmistakable. “Master Tallisk had me rearranging the wines when you arrived.”
    “Well,” Maxen said, “you were in the right place then, according to me.” He took a sip of his wine and smacked his lips noisily. “Thank you very much, Doiran.”
    Doiran tipped his head. “Is there anything else I can fetch for you?” His eyes flickered to me, and a momentary frown crowded his wide face, but he said nothing to me, nor asked any question of Maxen.
    “No,” Maxen said. “We are fine.”
    “Then if you’ll pardon me,” Doiran said, again tipping his head in a sort of abbreviated bow. He left, leaving the tray behind. I’d not touched my wine yet. I hadn’t eaten, and my stomach was churning, but it was more nerves than hunger that contracted it. If I drank, I thought I might be ill.
    A few minutes passed in silence, save for Maxen’s sighs and the rustle of his clothes against the settee. Then Yana reappeared at the door. Maxen looked up, every inch of him alert at once. He seemed for all the world like a dog that had scented game. “Well?”
    Yana shrugged. “He can come up.”
    Maxen began to rise from the settee, and I mirrored him, but Yana held up her hand. “Not you, Udred. The boy comes up alone. Master Tallisk says he has no patience for your salesmanship.”
    He sputtered. “That’s unreasonable! I’ve not even explained to the lad—”
    “ Or you can leave,” she said. “It’s in your hands.”
    Maxen deflated, sitting down heavily. “Go on,” he said to me.
    “What—” I frowned. “What do you want me to do?”
    “Be courteous. Answer his questions honestly. And don’t look so glum!” He attempted to follow his own last advice, favoring me with a wobbling smile. “Good luck.”
    With slow reluctance, I followed Yana out of the sitting room. She threw me a sympathetic look as we climbed the stairs. “What’s he told you?”
    “Nothing,” I said. “Save that Master Tallisk is a tattoo-master.”
    She paused for a moment in her climb and turned to me. “What’s your name?”
    “Etan Dairan.”
    “Etan...” She sighed. “You know what an Adorned is?”
    I shifted my shoulders and looked at her, trying to feign an aloofness that I did not feel. “Yes. I mean, I have read about them. I know—”
    “Well,” she cut in, “Master Tallisk is looking for a new one.” With that, she turned away, ascending the final flight of stairs.
    I felt a shiver crawl up my spine like a spider. At once, things clicked into place. Like Maxen’s cool, considering look, when he’d seen me clean and bruiseless for the first time.
    Of course I had not considered it before. Adorned were strange and exotic to me, like birds caught in lands beyond the sea; they were something glimpsed from a wistful distance. They served the Blooded like living art, displaying their beauty; it was said the Blooded rewarded them with rare