“I’ll ruffle your beautiful costume. Was it made in Kjermanash?” She sat facing him on the bed as he moved over to make room. The neck of her milkmaid’s dress was cut low enough to show the upper round of her breasts with a little in between (and the Blue Star told him that she noticed, and wanted him to notice; that it was festival day, when all’s forgotten in the new spring). “Damaris—about this ball . . . I’m afraid I won’t be able to go with you after all.” Rather than angry, her face was woebegone to the edge of tears. (A world was crashing in her thoughts.) “You don’t want to be with servant-class people?” He reached out and patted her hand conciliatingly. “Of course I do, with you. But Damaris . . . you said it cost three spadas and I haven’t hardly any coppers, even.” “Oh.” She perched her head on one side and looked at him birdlike under prettily arched brows. “I can let you have that much.” Then, seeing the expression on his face; “You can give it back to me when you get it from your master.” (He did not really want to go at all, headache and the thought of his position with Cleudi and the Duke of Aggermans gnawed at him, he could not think clearly.) “I—I—” “I don’t mind, really.” “But I don’t want to take your money. I may—may not get any.” She considered, looking at him sharply, with eyes narrowing. Then; “I know. You don’t want to go with me because I’m not your friend.” She tipped suddenly forward, one arm round his neck, and kissed him hard, then drew her head back, and with a long breath, said; “Will you go with me now?” “I—” She kissed him again, tonguewise, and as her lips clung, shifted her body, and with her free hand, guided his to the V of her dress. Her eyes said she did not want him to stop, and he did not. Near the end it came to him that the Blue Star was dead, he could not fathom a single thought in her mind. 11 KAZMERGA; TWO AGAINST A WORLD Mathurin entered on his almost soundless feet and let the door close behind him in the dark before saying, “Rodvard,” softly. Rodvard, who had been letting his mind drift along endless alleys rather than thinking, swung himself up. “I will make a light.” “Do not. There is danger enough, and its point would so be sharpened. Do not even speak aloud.” “What is it?” “The Duke of Aggermans. His bravoes are let loose. No time. I only just now learned it from the Count.” Outside there was the soft sighing of rain. “I am to go?” “At once. Make your way south, to the Center of Sedad Mir. The contact is a wool-dealer named Stündert, in the second dock street. Can you remember? Change clothes with me quickly. Do not even take the door, which is watched, but go by the window, across the road, and south into the country.” The serving-man began to undress in the dark; Rodvard recognized the sound. “Is there any money?” he asked. The rustling stopped. “You to need money, who have the Blue Star?”