The Loyal Ones

Chapter 5: Gita

The next day came with a pounding headache, eyelids sealed shut with gunk.

"Nf," he croaked, remembering.

Red was shoving at his shoulder, rolling his head side-to-side. Dally realised, bleary, that she'd been there poking him for a long while.

"Time to go, champ," she said. "Okay? Harper?"

Dally got up. He splashed icy water on his his face from a trough in the wall and staggered around until he found his pants. Red wordlessly shoved a fresh shirt at him. In ten minutes they both stood in a corridor by a door, squinting into grey morning light. Their breath fogged the air and he thought he could feel the cold from the marble tile through the soles of his boots.

They were guarding a door, a massive, curlicued slab of iron. When no-one was passing he turned to look at it, trying to figure out the swirls and arcs in the metal. No good. Near the handle, a membrane lock pulsed wetly, the surface gleaming with faint frost.

Lyle probably wasn't in there, Red said - that was the office. Mostly he wasn't in there. This was a good spot. She had to trade for this shift, so she could look out for Dally. How was it being so drunk?

"I'm not drunk," Dally said, "I'm hung-over."

"Are you sure? You look drunk."

They were only stood there a few minutes when they heard a fast clip of heels, and a woman burst out of a side door. Seeing the two thralls she stopped, and shrugged a mink stole back up around her shoulders. She was flushed and glaring, with dark hair slipping from under a pearled net. As she stalked towards Dally she carefully swept the stray hair back, her lips pressing in a hard line. Her earring flashed blue and green - Lyle's river-serpent.

"Mistress Gita," Dally guessed. He stared past her at the wall.

It didn't help - Gita stopped in front of him. "Mistress? Did he tell you to say that?"

"I- yes, mistress." It sounded like Dally was meant to apologise for something, but he wasn't sure what. He just stood there instead, awkwardly steadying the hilt of his saber with one hand. A long, long moment passed, while she looked him up and down.

"This makes perfect sense now," she said, eventually. The acid note of disgust wasn't hidden too well by her accent. "What was your name? Darry?"

"Dally Harper."

She made a faint noise and turned, beckoning as she started away. "Come along, Dally."

Red was watching him with wide eyes, but when Dally glanced at her she just shrugged; 'she's the boss'.

Gita stopped at the door, and glared at him until he figured out he was meant to open it for her. In the next hall she led him away at a fast clip. He could still feel her eyes on him, measuring.

"This is how he spends Jona's inheritance," she said, "on toys."

Dally's mouth twitched, before he got back to blank. "Something you need, mistress?"

"Yes."

But she didn't say anything else, not until they'd gone through a side door and under a veil of silk. It could have been a different house, past that veil. Choking incense wrapped around him, spiked with the smell of fresh sage. After one more silk hanging it was tropical warm, and he was treading on a floor softened by cushions and furs. Amber wormlight took the place of sun - there were no windows.

The hair rose on the back of his neck, reacting to a new, scary idea. Dally should not be here; these were Gita's chambers. A shadow behind one last curtain had the shape of a four-poster bed.