Sethra Lavode (Viscount of Adrilankha) by Steven Brust

recommended by Teldra), and wines from as far away as Aerethia. For entertainment, he had raided both Hartre and Adrilankha for instrumentalists, singers, and jongleurs, as well as bringing in several of the local peasant orchestras, with their traditional instrumentation of violin, bagpipe, fretted demkor, and slim-whistle. There were, as well, a number of cittern players, some of them quite skilled, others only providing accompaniment for their voices, which in these cases was never less than pleasant.
    The ball-room, which had nearly been a temple, and before that had been a room of some unknown purpose, served its function quite well: there was not only easy access to the kitchens and storage lockers, but, in the event, the small alcoves connecting to it were perfect places for those who desired a few minutes of private conversation, and were thus in nearly constant use.
    Khaavren, dressed in a pure white shirt with ruffled collar and sleeves, an azure doublet, blue leggings, and black boots, accompanied the Countess of Whitecrest, who had made, it must be admitted, a spectacular toilet. Her dark hair was swirled up, held in place by a golden pin set with four pearls. Her gown was bright red, cut low enough to attract interest, and it fell quite simply to her trim ankles—its only shape was Daro’s shape, which was certainly sufficient. The gown featured tall wings of lace upon the shoulders creating a sort of frame for her lightly powdered face. Around her neck hung another string of pearls, this one so long that it fell nearly to her waist. A sort of sash or baldric of bright, shimmering blue ran loosely from her left shoulder to her right hip, and on it were three small rubies. Her shoes were white, buckled, and adorned with a sapphire upon the toe. She had rings on each hand, one a pearl, the other a ruby. Upon seeing her complete ensemble as they prepared to leave Whitecrest Manor, Khaavren had observed, “Madam, it would appear that, today, I am an accessory.”
    Khaavren met Morrolan in the ballroom, and, bowing deeply, said, “My lord Morrolan, Count of Southmoor, permit me to present my wife, Daro, Countess of Whitecrest.”
    For the sake of completeness, we ought to mention that, by advice from Teldra, Morrolan had dressed very simply, in an elegant black and silver warrior’s costume—Teldra pretended that, as the host, he ought not to wear anything that might make any guest feel he had paid insufficient attention to his toilet.
    “But,” said Morrolan, “is it not as bad if someone feels he has gone to too much trouble?”
    “No one will feel that way on this occasion,” said Teldra. “Your invitation will insure that.”
    “How, it will?”
    “You will see.”
    Having made this necessary interruption, we return to the introduction of Daro and Morrolan. The Dragonlord made a courtly bow (Teldra had gone to some pains to show him how this was properly done) and kissed her hand. Daro, for her part, made a thousand compliments on his castle, not forgetting to observe the sweeping marble stairway, the elegance of the gold banisters, the fountain in the central hallway, and the three quite remarkable chandeliers, each with over two hundred candles, that graced the ballroom itself.
    “You are too kind, madam,” said Morrolan. “May I show you and my good friend Khaavren where we have hidden the wine?”
    “A splendid idea, sir; we should like nothing better.”
    “But,” observed Khaavren, “Cha! Who is this I see guarding the wine?”
    “Not guarding it in the least, my dear Khaavren,” said Aerich. “Rather, standing in what I knew would be the best position to intercept you.”
    “You are right once more, my friend.” He turned to Morrolan, saying, “I hope, sir, that I may trust you with the Countess for some few minutes while my friend and I have conversation.”
    “Sir,” said Morrolan, “I promise that she will be entertained, but not excessively.”
    “That is exactly right,”