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‘Quite simply,’ Davad interjected. Suddenly, his whole attitude had changed from petitioner to commander.

‘You still keep a boy for the garden and stable. Send him here to me. I’ll jot down a note, he can carry it to my house, and in no time my serving staff will arrive here.

Discreetly, of course. I’ll give very specific instructions that they are to behave as if they are your servants and this is their normal place of employment and… ’

‘And when the gossip spreads through Bingtown, as it must whenever servants are involved, we shall be a matter of much jest. No, Davad.’ It was Ronica’s turn to sigh.

‘We’ll take you up on your offer. We must. However, if we must borrow servants, then I shall not hesitate to admit that is so.

Nor should your kindness in this matter be hidden for the sake of our pride.

’ Belatedly recalling that her daughter’s opinion might differ, Ronica turned to Keffria. ‘Do you agree?’ she asked her bluntly.

She shook her head helplessly. ‘I suppose I must. Malta is not going to care for this one bit.’ The last she added almost to herself.

‘Simply don’t let her trouble her pretty little head about it.

’ Davad was beaming now. Ronica longed to club him as he went on, ‘I am sure she is going to be too much interested in her suitor to pay much attention to an old family friend anyway. Now. Where’s that paper, Ronica?

I’ll dash a note off and you can get your boy on his way. ’

Despite Ronica’s misgivings, all was accomplished quickly and easily.

Keffria returned to the guests, assuring them that her mother would appear shortly.

The message was sent. Davad insisted on a last minute peek in a mirror.

Ronica was not sure if she was motivated by pity for him or for herself, but she persuaded him to blot the oil from his hair and forehead, and re-comb his hair in a more dignified styling.

The way his hose sagged at the knees could not be helped, he told her; all his leggings did that, and as for the coat, it was new, and the cut of it was considered quite stylish.

Ronica bit her tongue and did not point out the difference between stylish and becoming.

Then, with a great deal of trepidation, she entered the morning room on Davad’s arm.

She had heard that the courtship of a Rain Wild man was less restrained than that practised in Bingtown.

Before Keffria had consented to Reyn courting her daughter, they had been promised that the young man would not offer her expensive gifts that might turn a young girl’s head.

Ronica had been prepared for him to present Malta with a bouquet of flowers and perhaps some sweets.

She had expected to be introduced to a shy young man, accompanied perhaps by his tutor or uncle.

The morning room had been transformed. The simple arrangements of spring flowers that she and Keffria had contrived from the garden had all but disappeared.

Baskets, bowls and vases of exotic Rain Wild blooms blossomed in profusion throughout the room.

The heady floral fragrance was thick as smoke.

Platters and bowls of fruit, bottles of wine, and trays of sweets and pastries had joined the carefully arranged repast on the table.

Brightly coloured songbirds twittered in a brass cage hung in an artificial tree constructed from bronze and cherry wood.

A little spotted hunting cat, no more than a kitten, prowled hopefully beneath the cage.

Servants, both veiled and open-faced, moved silently and industriously about the room, completing its metamorphosis.

As Ronica entered, a young man whose veiled face proclaimed him a Rain Wild Trader struck up a plaintive melody on a lap-harp.

As if carried by the music, Jani Khuprus swept up to greet her.

Her face veil was white lace shimmering with pearls.

The loose hood that covered her hair was decorated with braided and coiled silken tassels in many shades of blue.

She wore an extravagantly beribboned blouse and loose pantaloons that were gathered at her ankles with yet more ribbons.

Fanciful embroidery almost obscured the white linen that backed it.

Ronica had never seen a woman in such garb, but she knew instantly it would become the new style in Bingtown.

As Jani greeted her in the transformed room, Ronica felt as if she had been magically transported to the Rain Wilds, and that she was the guest in Jani’s home.

Jani’s smile was warm, and only one quick puzzled glance betrayed her curiosity about Davad.

‘I am so glad you have come down to join us,’ Jani welcomed her.

With unnerving familiarity, she took both Ronica’s hands in hers.

She leaned closer to confide, ‘You must be quite proud of your daughter, Keffria. She has greeted us so warmly and so graciously! She is a credit to her upbringing. And Malta! Oh, I can see why my son was smitten so swiftly and so deeply. She is young, as you warned me, but already she is like an opening blossom. Any young man would fall prey to such eyes. No wonder he took such pains choosing what gifts to bring her. I confess, when the flowers are massed like this, they do appear a bit overwhelming, but surely you can forgive a young man’s impetuosity in this. ’

‘Especially as it’s much too late to do anything else!

’ Davad replied while Ronica was still composing a response.

He stepped forward to set his hand on top of Jani’s and Ronica’s clasp.

‘Welcome to the Vestrit home. I’m Davad Restart, a long-time friend of the family.

We are so thrilled to have you here, and deeply honoured by Reyn’s courtship of our Malta. Don’t they look charming together!’

His words were so different from anything that Ronica would have chosen to say that she nearly lost control of herself.

Jani’s eyes went from Davad’s face to Ronica’s before she gently but unmistakably removed her hands from his clasp.

‘I recall you well, Trader Restart.’ The tone of her voice was chill; evidently, her recollection of him was not a kindly one. The subtlety was lost on Davad.

‘I am so pleased and honoured that you do,’ he exclaimed jovially. He beamed a smile at Jani Khuprus. He obviously believed that things were going well.

Ronica knew she had to say something, but for the life of her, she could not find any significant words. She retreated into banality. ‘Such lovely flowers. Only the Rain Wild yields such extravagant colours and fragrances.’

Jani shifted her body very slightly, but it was enough that she now faced Ronica while her shoulder was toward Davad, excluding him. ‘I am so glad you like them. I had feared you would rebuke me for letting Reyn indulge himself in such plenty. I know we had agreed he must keep his gifts simple.’

In actuality, Ronica felt that Jani had overstepped the bounds of her agreement.

Before she could find a tactful way to let her know that Reyn must not do it again, Davad chimed for her.

‘Simple? What place has simplicity in a young man’s passion?

Were I a boy again and courting such a girl as Malta, I, too, would attempt to overwhelm her with gifts. ’

Ronica finally found her tongue. ‘But I am sure a young man like Reyn will want to be valued for himself, not his presents. Such a display is worthy of their first presentation to one another, but I am sure his courtship to follow will be more restrained.’ By addressing her words to Davad rather than Jani, Ronica hoped to avoid giving offence while still letting her position be known.

‘Nonsense!’ Davad insisted. ‘Look at them. Does she look to you as if she wishes him to be restrained?’

Malta was all but enthroned in flowers. She sat in an armed chair, holding a great bouquet on her lap.

Pots and vases of blooms and greenery had been placed around her.

A single red flower had been pinned to the shoulder of her demure white dress.

Another had been fastened into her upswept hair.

They complimented the warm tones of her skin, and made her black hair seem even glossier.

Her eyes were downcast as she spoke softly to the young man that stood so attentively beside her.

Yet every so often, she would glance up at him through her eyelashes.

When she did, her mouth would curve in the tiniest of cat-smiles.

Reyn Khuprus was dressed all in blue. A discarded cloak of dark blue draped an adjacent chair.

His traditional Rain Wild garb of loose trousers and a long-sleeved shirt effectively camouflaged any deformities from the casual eye.

He had a lean waist that he had proudly sashed with a wide silk belt.

It was a darker hue than his other clothes.

Black boots peeped out from the loose cuffs of his trousers.

The backs of his fine black gloves were studded with azure flame-gems in a breathtaking display of casual wealth.

His hood was plain, made from the same silk as his sash.

His face veil was black lace, effectively obscuring his features.

Although his face was invisible, one sensed his rapt attention in the cant of his head.

‘Malta is very young,’ Ronica said. She spoke quickly, before anyone could say any more.

‘She does not have the wisdom to know when to go slowly. It is up to her mother and me to exercise that caution. Jani and I have agreed that, for their own sakes, these young people must not be allowed to be too impulsive.’