“The wrapping is wrinkled,” the woman said as she opened the first parcel.
“Apologies, Mistress. I bumped into someone on the way back. It was a very crowded—”
“Your reasons do not interest me. Excuses are for the weak.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Hmm,” Tormik murmured as she pulled an impressively tailored outfit from its packaging and held it up for inspection.
She stepped to a blank section of the floor and shed her clothes. For a woman her age, the work she’d had done was impressively hard to detect. Her body was that of a woman half her age, and only the slightest of marks belied her true years, and those were only noticeable if you were really looking for them.
Maureen stood quietly as she donned the clothing, impassive as a statue as she had learned the woman expected of her minions.
A perfect image of Mistress Tormik flickered to life in front of her, presenting a non-mirrored image of herself. She turned and moved, posing this way and that, inspecting her purchase. With a gesture, the image spun, showing her from behind.
Tormik grinned, pleased with what she saw. The doctors she had paid had done excellent work. Her ass looked amazing, and considering the price of their services, it had damn well better.
“Yes, this one will do,” she finally said, stripping it off and tossing it aside.
Maureen quickly recovered it and smoothed the fabric before placing it on an invisible hanger—she still had no idea how it functioned.
The device was one of her favorites in the entire building. Sort of like a dry cleaner’s revolving racks, but hidden from view, this system took the clothing, captured its image, then whisked it away to storage, ready to be called up at a moment’s notice.
Mistress Tormik was already onto the next parcel, standing there nude as she opened it and examined the next outfit. This process repeated several more times until she had finally tried on all of them.
Most had been received with satisfaction, but one was to be returned for further work, a terse message wired to the tailor before she had even removed the clothing.
It looked like Maureen would be making a return trip sooner than later, though Bodok would almost certainly be off on his other errands when she got there. But they had a plan, and even if she wouldn’t see him again today, this was a regular stop in her list of chores, and when he managed to circle back, they would have their next rendezvous. And it would be glorious.
“Go tell the kitchen staff to prepare a basket of food for today’s outing,” Tormik said. “Make it clear there is to be ample wine this time.”
“Of course, Mistress,” Maureen said, repackaging the one outfit to be returned to the tailor. “Is there anything else?”
Tormik fixed her with a cool gaze. “Yes. Give this parcel to Vaxxa and have her bring it to the tailor. He is expecting it.”
“But that was on my list of things to—”
“Are you questioning me?” Tormik snapped.
“No, of course not. It’s just you had told me this was to be my task.”
“And now it is no longer yours,” she hissed.
Maureen felt a knot of fear ball up in her stomach. “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”
Tormik laughed. It was not a pleasant sound.
“You socialized with that man again. Against my express orders.”
“But—”
“Do not try to cover your tracks. You were seen with him.”
“Seen? Who—”
“I have people who report to me all across this city. They know who I am. Who my husband is. Do you not think they would inform me when a servant wearing the insignia ofmyhouse violated this most basic rule?”
Shit. Someone snitched, Maureen realized, not having the slightest clue who it might have been. And if what Mistress Tormik was saying was true and people were looking for any way possible to ingratiate themselves to her household, it could have been just about anyone.
