Every person in the room turned to look at me. Six djeliw were present.
“So, young Andevai,” said the old Two Gourds mansa. “Let us see what your wife can do.”
Vai’s smile vanished. People whispered as they cast glances at me. It took me a few moments to realize my expression must have matched my heart. I was no actress, to pretend to a bland, agreeable character that wishes nothing more than to jump through hoops like a trained dog. My gaze raked the table, for I was determined that these high-and-mighty men would not see me cringe or smile to please them.
It was a high-and-mighty gathering indeed! Six mansas were present: Four Moons, Two Gourds, Five Mirrors, and Viridor of White Bow House, as well as two others I identified by the tasseled whisks hanging from their robes. A Roman legate wearing the purple stripe of his rank was flanked by four fawning young tribunes. Lord Marius sat at the other end of the table beside an ornately dressed man who was surely the Parisi prince. At least ten other Celtic-born princely lords with their thick mustaches filled out the august assembly.
“She’s just a girl,” said the legate. “She doesn’t even look like a Phoenician, if you ask me. But it would be like them to cuckoo a child into a nest of magisters, would it not?”
Lord Marius raised his glass of wine mockingly, as if toasting me with Amadou Barry’s blood. “We dare not bring in a mirror, for fear she will cut a door and through it flee with the young man in tow. But let us see what else this strange creature can do.”
“Eh? What manner of creature is she?” demanded the Parisi prince, lifting a pair of spectacles to his eyes to peruse me more clearly. “Bold Hunter! My grandaunt was northern-born, up in the princedom of Carn. When I was but a little lad she used to frighten us with stories of black-haired beasts who had eyes the color of amber. They crept out of the ice and turned into lads and maidens to tempt the willing and then rip out their throats.”
My hands curled into fists. My chin came up.
Vai said, coolly, “I cannot sit and listen to my wife being spoken of with disrespect. I will not tolerate it.” He paused to survey the table. No one spoke. The legate coughed. Lord Marius set down his glass with the nod of a man who has just won a bet with himself.
Vai’s gaze settled on me. The tension in his shoulders spoke more loudly than words. “Catherine?”