The Lies of Locke Lamora - By Scott Lynch Page 0,218
of our… more unusual guests. They’ve been cleared with my superiors; they certainly do look lovely.”
Locke turned back to the banquet table and suddenly found himself six feet away from Giancana Meraggio, who had an orchid at his breast, a silver plate of fruit in one hand, and a gorgeous young woman in a red gown on the other. Meraggio’s gaze passed over Locke, then whirled back; those penetrating eyes fixed on him, and on the clothes he wore. The master money-changer opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and then opened it again.
“Sir,” said Meraggio in a cold voice, “I beg your pardon, but—”
“Why, Master Meraggio!” Don Salvara stepped up beside him. At the sight of a don, Meraggio shut his mouth once again and bowed politely, from the waist, though not very deeply.
“Don Salvara,” said Meraggio, “and the lovely Doña Sofia. What a pleasure to see you both! Greetings to you as well, Captain Reynart.” He dismissed the tall Vadran from his consideration with a shift of his head and peered at Locke again.
“Master Meraggio,” said Locke. “Why, what a fortunate coincidence! It is a pleasure to meet you at last; I have looked for you at your countinghouse, many times, and I am afraid I have never had a chance to pay my proper respects.”
“Indeed? Why, I was just about to ask… who might you be, sir?”
“Master Meraggio,” said Don Salvara, “allow me to present Lukas Fehrwight, merchant of Emberlain, servant of the House of bel Auster. He has come down to discuss the import of a certain quantity of small beer; I’d like to see how those Emberlain ales fare against our native best. Lukas, this is the honorable Giancana Meraggio, master of the countinghouse that bears his name, known by many as the Duke of White Iron, for very good reason. All finance whirls around him like the constellations in the sky.”
“Your servant, sir,” said Locke.
“Of Emberlain? Of the House of bel Auster?”
“Why yes,” said Doña Sofia, “he’s here at the feast as our special guest.”
“Master Meraggio,” said Locke, “I hope I do not presume too much, but do you find the cut of my coat pleasing? And the fabric?”
“A singular question,” said Meraggio, scowling, “for both seem strangely familiar.”
“And well they should,” said Locke. “On the advice of the Salvaras, I secured for myself a single suit of clothes cut in your Camorri style. I requested of the tailor that he select a cut that was especially favored by the best-known taste in the entire city. And who should he name but yourself, sir; this suit of clothes is fashioned after your very own preferences! I hope you will not find me forward if I say that I find it most excellently comfortable.”
“Oh, no,” said Meraggio, looking terribly confused. “Oh, no. Not too forward at all—very flattering, sir, very flattering. I, um… I do not feel entirely well; the heat, you see. I believe I shall avail myself of some of the punch from that subtlety. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Fehrwight. If you will excuse me, Doña Sofia, Don Lorenzo.”
Meraggio moved off, peering back over his shoulder at Locke and then shaking his head. Oh, Crooked Warden, thought Locke, you’re one funny son of a bitch, aren’t you?
“Lukas,” said Doña Sofia, “have you had enough food for the time being?”
“I believe I shall keep rather well, my lady.”
“Good! Why not hunt down Doña Vorchenza with me; she’s hiding down on one of the other galleries, hunched over her knitting. If she’s lucid today, you’ll love her, I guarantee it.”
“Doña Vorchenza,” said Reynart, “is in the northernmost apartment of the western gallery, two floors down. Do you know the place I speak of?”
“Oh, yes,” said Sofia. “What do you say, Lukas? Let us pay our respects; Lorenzo can circulate and work on the important affairs he should be looking into.”
“The matter has not slipped my mind, darling,” said Don Lorenzo with mock irritation. “Master Fehrwight, I for my part hope the old doña is speaking Therin this evening; you may find yourself being introduced to the equivalent of a stone statue. Or perhaps she merely behaves that way when I’m in the room.”
“I wish I could say that it was entirely an affectation, my lord Salvara,” said Reynart. “I should circulate for a while and try to look as though I’m actually on duty. Give my affection to Doña Vorchenza, my lady Sofia.”