“Men,” Zanna muttered. “Stick close.”
Lands! This towering woman was all work and zero fun. “I can handle myself in a crowd,” Mistel said, “and I’m not afraid of men.”
“Then you’re a fool,” Zanna said. “The Spit isn’t bad, but you’re playing the Ice House tomorrow, and that place attracts miscreants.”
Was the woman deaf? “Like I said, I can handle…”
Zanna started toward an empty table in the back. Mistel huffed and followed. She’d barely taken a seat when a barmaid approached—older than Rilla, with a long brown braid.
“Evening, Darri. Two plates of whatever’s hot.” Zanna set two rutahs on the table. “Any sign of Masters Chazir or Tanniyn?”
“No.” Darri picked up the coins. “Rilla said they went to the banquet.”
Zanna nodded to an elderly fisherman. “Shouldn’t Haldor Deppner be at the banquet?”
Darri eyed the man. “Certainly, and he’s been here over half an hour. Could be the banquet is over but some stayed to revel.”
“Cole wouldn’t have dawdled,” Mistel said. “Not when we’re playing here tonight.”
Darri shrugged. “I’ll send them over the moment they come in.”
But when Darri returned with two bowls of steaming chicken and dumplings, she said, “Merrygog’s asking after the band, but still no sign of your men. Can you play without them? If not, Arbin Roxley’s here. He’s a fiddler.”
Did Mistel want to play without them? No. But she certainly could. “I can sing on my own,” she said.
“No,” Zanna said. “Not without the others.”
Mistel glared at her. “Why do you get to decide every?—?”
“Give the job to Arbin tonight,” Zanna said to Darri. “Master Chazir will apologize to Merrygog when he gets back.”
“Will do,” Darri said.
Mistel pushed her plate aside and leaned across the table. “Something’s happened. We should go see.”
“You need a reason to go to Lytton Hall,” Zanna said. “Otherwise, you risk exposing us.”
Mistel folded her arms. “I do have a reason. We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
“I certainly can.” Zanna took a bite of her food, then added a bit of salt. “But if you can’t, then we have a problem.”
Mistel bristled. “What do you mean by that?”
“Aren’t you here on trial?” the woman asked. “If I tell Prince Oren you gave me a lot of trouble, it won’t help you.”
That her chaperone felt she could threaten her…“You don’t have many friends, do you?”
Zanna’s brow creased.
Oops. Had that been too mean?
Zanna quickly masked any hurt with indifference. “In my line of work, friends are a liability.”
“That’s tragic,” Mistel said. “Perhaps you should find another line of work.”
“This is what Arman created me to do.”
Mistel widened her eyes at the table in a discrete eye roll. She wasn’t sure she could take much more of this woman’s intensity.
