Narcissa heaved a sigh and straightened up, setting the quill in its cup and pushing the last of the documents away from her.

“I believe that's everything that needs to be done today. I hope you like where we're going this evening.”

“We like anything new,” Mirren said cheerfully. “And this sounds like a fun place.”

“Could one of you remind Evander that it's time to leave?”

Mirren hopped off her stool and headed for the door to the outer office. With no one else around, there was no need for military-rigid stances, only staying alert.

“You've had a tiring few days,” Kaveri said sympathetically. “Lirit can give you infinite energy but that doesn't help much with emotional strain, and you've had a lot to deal with. Taking some time to enjoy yourself sounds like a wonderful idea. I know you have other reasons, but I hope you can relax, too.”

“I intend to. It's a good place for that.”

Evander had conceded, though with some apprehension, to Narcissa's reasoning, that hiding behind the walls of house and hospital would convey an unwelcome message about fear. This was an established routine, and a change to it would be noticed.

Kaveri, personally, was grateful that she'd never been in a position in which her every move became an example and a statement that overruled her own caution.

Narcissa straightened up her desk, leaving it ready for the next day, and took the most recent handful of documents to the outer office.

“Thank you,” Evander said, accepting them. “On the way out I'll leave them with Oxylos to deliver.”

Word was spreading rapidly through the hospital, and those attempting to accost Narcissa there, about the new foreigner bodyguards and how it was positively uncivilized, how eager all four always were for violence. Tyrel and Madoc varied their positions between leaning against the office walls and lurking in the corridor where they could scrutinize everyone passing by—probably scaring some, Kaveri suspected. On the other hand, word would spread rapidly about the new foreigner bodyguards, and if some people were too nervous to harass Narcissa and Evander, that was helpful in itself.

Hermia remained less than happy with the arrangements, despite the foreigner quartet doing their best to keep her involved—especially in things they lacked any grounding in, like the increased security at Narcissa's morning speech, and they had warned her that they’d be of little use near their respective dark moons. The brothers and Mirren had done a sparring session and self-defence lesson on the roof around moonrise, and invited Hermia and Melanippe. Watching them sparring with each other almost all out, careful only to avoid quick-kill shots, and an invitation to try against them with no holds barred, had gone a long way to convincing the two guards of their skills, if not their intentions.

Both Narcissa, in a shorter tunic than Kaveri had expected her to own, and Evander were far more strong and agile and coordinated than any of the foreigners had feared. When Madoc had commented on it, Narcissa had laughed and given him a one-word reply: dancing.

Narcissa and Evander had, deliberately, chosen a house that was a comfortable walk away from the hospital, finding that more convenient than longer trips requiring other means of transportation.

Melanippe opened the door for them immediately, and bolted it securely behind them.

“Go get dressed,” Narcissa told Evander, beginning to unwind her mantle. “I think Iole was shopping for you again, just before the attack. You can bathe first.” She gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “And stop worrying. By now, you're usually all excited and beginning to talk non-stop about what you've done before and what you're doing tonight.”

“Can you think of a better time to try to make an example out of me?” Evander retorted.

“Not without going through us,” Tyrel said.

“Ridiculously powerful arrows aside,” Madoc said, “no one is going to reach either of you.”

“I scouted the whole route from the rooftops before moonset,” Kaveri said. “I know everywhere someone could possibly set up an ambush, and we'll be taking extra care near those places.”

“I suspect, though,” Tyrel said, “they probably saw no way the bear and eagle could fail, and I doubt they had a backup plan in place. It will take them time to devise and arrange something else. If they're going to, even. It's possible there were only the three involved and with two dead, the archer may just be trying to keep his head down.”

“You can only change in the moonlight,” Evander said, though he did yield to Narcissa's gentle push deeper into the house. “Where were they hiding until they came out to attack?”

“That's a really good question,” Madoc said thoughtfully.

“Tomorrow,” Kaveri said firmly. “There was nothing left for us to see or smell by moonrise the night of the attack, and none of us can track scents through city streets, so however we investigate that, it will be the same now or later.” And Narcissa and Evander, she thought, badly needed this.

“Dress however you're the most comfortable,” Narcissa told them, and smiled at Kaveri. “Including in the next thing to nothing, if you like, but make sure you wear something over that until we're inside. In this place, what matters most is to be who you are, without regard for convention, and to accept the same from everyone around you. Only Aithre rules within. If you need to ask the staff for anything, do it soon, please. They're always free until breakfast tomorrow.”

“Hermia and I will be here,” Melanippe said. “To make certain there are no surprises when you get home.”

“It's very much appreciated, but don't spend all the time on prowling like restless guard-dogs. Shall I have Eumelia send you supper, or would you rather take care of yourselves?”

“We'll be fine. Hermia doesn't believe me about how good my grandmother's recipe for date-and-honey barley-cakes is, and Hermia's sister told her about something to do with fish that she learned from her mother-in-law. Acantha doesn't like us being in the kitchen when she's working, so we'll use the opportunity. We'll make enough to take Thaleia and Phaidra some cakes tomorrow. Iole's planning to head to the hospital once you don't need her, of course. Zenais and Oenone arranged a double date with a couple of their admirers. Pherusa's cousin invited her to come for dinner and bring friends, as usual, and the last I heard, she and Acantha had finally talked Megaira into coming along, which is certainly a change for our shy mouse. Clytie asked to stay and help us instead.”

“Clytie staying has more to do with Hermia than with the food,” Narcissa said in amusement. “Sounds wonderful. Phaidra's making sense again after that head wound but considering the minimal pain control for the broken bones because of it, I'm sure she'll appreciate any distraction, and certainly Iole's company. On the pain medication Thaleia’s on, I wouldn’t expect her to be awake late, so visit her as early as you can. I hope the others have fun. Given the size of Pherusa's family, if any of them show up as well, it should be quite a party.” Her gaze went to the foreigner quartet. “The Peacock's doors don't open until dusk, so there's no hurry. Even with Iole's help, which they both enjoy, Lysandra getting ready to dance takes time.”

“And we can seriously wear what we're used to?” Tyrel asked.

“Yes. And while normally weapons are forbidden, under the circumstances you'll be allowed to keep those, too.” Narcissa inclined her head in a kind of casual dismissal, and left them on their own.

“The Peacock really is a very welcoming place,” Melanippe said. “The food's pretty good, the wine's better, but the entertainment and the company are what keeps it in business. You might get some very personal offers, from very different people. Obviously, accepting is problematic while you’re on-duty and remember that some might not want to give you personal contact information. No matter how you feel about invitations, decline politely. Making a fuss will get you thrown out and that will definitely be a problem.”

“Why would we get upset?” Madoc asked. “I don’t think we’ll be accepting any right away, the situation’s too complicated, but that isn’t worth trouble.”

“Is there anything or anyone in particular we should be watching for?” Tyrel asked.

“Let me talk to Hermia and we'll come find you.”

“Fair enough.”

Melanippe turned away and walked towards her own room. Well, the room she normally shared with Thaleia. Phaidra and Iole shared, the maids were in pairs, but Acantha, Pherusa, and Hermia had private rooms.

“So are we going to take them up on it?” Tyrel said thoughtfully, as they wandered off towards their own rooms.

“I think we should,” Mirren said seriously. “We're pretty obviously not locals. So, play along and be who we are, instead of trying to blend in. Just for tonight. I bet that'll get us accepted there a lot more than trying not to draw attention will.”

“There's a weird kind of logic to that,” Madoc conceded. “It might also help distract a lot of potentially highly sensitive people from noticing anything else strange about us. I have to admit, it's going to be a relief to be back in real clothes. Honestly, the things some places come up with...”

“To be fair,” Kaveri said, “what you're used to is meant for a cooler climate and partly as armour.”

“We've been in warm places where men didn't run around half-naked and women didn't have to cover so much. And you're from basically the same climate we are, but you'd wear almost nothing if you could get away with it.”

“True. But if everywhere was the same, we'd get bored before long.”

With the sky darkening, they gathered back in the courtyard to wait.

Tyrel and Madoc were, quite gratefully, in trousers, though the ones they'd woven for themselves the previous night were more lightweight than usual. Linen shirt and layered doublet and thick leather jerkin would have been unbearably hot, even as moonspun equivalents, so they'd worked out a short-sleeved shirt and a sort of sleeveless, multi-layered cross between doublet and jerkin that fit closely and had several ties up the front where it overlapped slightly. Tyrel's were mostly deep amber, a darker shade of Talir's light, with a strong greenish-blue for contrast; Madoc preferred muted sandy browns and a dark yellowish green that they called 'olive' around here.

Mirren was in the drawstring-necked shirt and trousers she was used to, though again of lighter materials, as was the laced bodice that accentuated her curves and gave her full breasts more support than any kind of breast-band or halter they'd yet seen or devised. Given the choice, she liked a much brighter yellow-green, and combined it with any number of other colours depending on her mood—tonight, that meant darker trousers, lighter bodice, and a muted rose shirt. Kaveri had gone with a knee-length tunic of soft lavender, but had kept open the option of shedding it, with her loincloth and tied halter of the same colour under it.

All, of course, were fully armed.

“We are going to stand out like a fox in the middle of a chicken run,” Madoc said wryly. Tyrel bared his teeth at him in a teasing snarl.

“Which is actually going to make us stand out less, from the sounds of it,” Mirren said.

Catching the sounds of motion, Kaveri looked towards the stairs that led to the second floor, and blinked.

The dress of a respectable woman at any income level was, properly, pale in colour and minimal in ornamentation, since it was meant to be covered in public by a more elaborate mantle.

Narcissa currently wore a sleeveless dress that was more fitted and draped more closely against her body, the neckline a loose sweep that exposed a startling amount of her collarbone. Strikingly, it was woven, Kaveri thought, of threads of several shades of vivid blues and greens in different weights, giving it a subtle pattern and texture that shifted as she moved. With it, she was wearing a moderate amount of amber jewellery in silver, and she had her eyes lined black and her lips darkened somehow; her normally confined hair was simply gathered back at the sides but mostly loose. Over one arm she had a mantle of a relatively plain muted blue and grey.

Beside her was, well, Lysandra, obviously, but the transformation from Evander was startling. Dressed to dance, she was wearing vibrant crimson, the full skirt of voluminous folds of lightweight fabric sitting perhaps a bit less low on narrower hips but extra flounces at the sides added a suggestion of width; the snug belly-baring top must have padding that helped create a hint of cleavage, and the very short sleeves were loose. Something had been used to make her face look a trifle paler and more even in tone, with her lips deep red and her eyes lined heavily with black and something making the lids glitter, and her black hair had reddish highlights. The heavy earrings dangling from her lobes, the smaller ones up higher, the elaborate necklace, the serpent bracelets around her upper arms and bangles around her wrists, the chain belt with its fringe of coins hanging from shorter chains of varying length, the anklets Kaveri caught a glimpse of intermittently, were all gold—Kaveri would have been willing to bet they were real, not gilt or brass, and that those stones were all precious ones.

Interestingly, she had a tattoo, a custom they'd encountered in various places on their travels. In this case, it was a blue-black serpent that nearly encircled her navel, but the head and tail turned outwards at the ends, leaving the very top open—like a vase with her navel inside, Kaveri thought. The whole thing was probably larger than the area covered by her palm.

Even more dramatic, though, was the change in how she moved. While Evander was graceful and fit, Lysandra moved with the poise and fluidity and confidence of a great cat.

Suddenly Kaveri found herself really anticipating seeing Lysandra dance.

The handles of a flexible basket were looped over one arm, and draped over it she carried a mantle in a complicated curving pattern of white and mist-grey and a grey so dark it was nearly black.

Tyrel, inevitably, was the one to find his voice first. “I'm sorry if this is rude in Enodia,” he said, “but you both look absolutely beautiful.”

Lysandra smiled. “From a stranger or in a business context, it would be rude. Under the circumstances, I think we can simply accept it as a compliment. Thank you.” Even her voice had shifted subtly: it wasn't really much higher, but the quality of it was lighter somehow, and the inflections were different. “Ready?”

“Yes, and looking forward to this,” Kaveri said.

The royal cousins helped each other deftly get mantles wrapped into place, covering nearly all their finery—Kaveri reflecting that Lysandra was clearly far better at it than she was, which made sense. Both women, she noticed, smelled gently and pleasantly of something mellow and vaguely fruity.

Moonblood vision worked better in dim light, though of course best of all by moonlight, and they kept watch in all directions between them, especially near the places Kaveri had identified as possible risks. They encountered no trouble on the way, other than a few odd sidelong looks.

Their destination was on a moderately well-to-do street. As usual, there were few windows and they were small and placed high. Directly on the wall beside the door, a naturalistic peacock had been painted in vivid colours; somewhat more discreetly at the upper corner of the doorframe, a small orange-brown serpent covered the top handspan vertically and then did a right-angled turn as though it had crawled up the side and onto the top.

“This dancer god,” Kaveri said thoughtfully. “Her animal wouldn't be a snake, by any chance?”

Lysandra laughed, nodded, and knocked on the door.

The man who opened it was broad-shouldered and muscular, with long blonde hair and a bushy beard; rather than a tunic, he wore a sort of short wrapped kilt of fabric with a pattern of intersecting multicoloured stripes and a sleeveless shirt with the neck laces left loose, of very lightweight white linen.

“Ladies! We feared you'd not be here tonight! You're a welcome sight!”

“Would we disappoint Lysandra's admirers?” Narcissa said, with a smile. She gestured to the quartet waiting in a loose crescent around them. “Our rescuers and new bodyguards.”

“And as native to Enodia as I am, from the look of them,” he chuckled. “Welcome, and in you all come, not standing in the street!” He stepped back, opening the door fully.

Kaveri wasn't expecting to step into a small room that was entirely open along the far side to a courtyard. Music, from drums and something stringed and two male voices, was audible from farther on.

“The ale's decent here,” the door-keeper added, as he closed the door behind them. “Not as good as farther north, but it'll do. Keep the weapons sheathed unless the ladies are actually in danger, hm? Anyone else, you'd be leaving them with me.”

“They'll stay put away for anything less,” Mirren assured him. “Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Ingo.” Lysandra wrapped an arm around the door-keeper's waist and kissed his cheek, though she had to stretch to do so. “Not that we expect any trouble with you guarding the door.”

“That's what Eumelia keeps me around for,” Ingo said, and grinned. “Well, one of the things.”

“And the rest of us can only dream about the other things, and sigh knowing it's hopeless.”

“Oh, for you, we both might make an exception, except that I'm afraid of your protective sister there if she ever thought I was treating you too casually.”

“Good,” Narcissa said complacently, beginning to unwind her mantle.

Lysandra sighed dramatically. “The story of my life.” She started on hers as well.