City of Fire (City Trilogy (Mass Market)) Read Free Page B

gave her an exotic look.
    Scirye’s mother made everything she did seem so elegant, while Scirye was always the opposite: clumsy, awkward, ugly. Where Lady Sudarshane seemed to float across the floor, Scirye felt like she stumped along.
    Lady Sudarshane’s ancient outfit only enhanced her beauty—as if a statue of one of the goddesses had come to life. The collar of her red-and-black robe was decorated with hundreds of tiny gold flowerswhile rows of gold hearts inlaid with turquoise filled the sleeve cuffs and tear-shaped gold pieces danced around the bottom hem.
    Even her odd cap seemed quaint when she wore it, rather than comical. The hat had stuffed horns, one of bright yellow silk and the other of dark violet. All sorts of mystical signs had been embroidered on them to indicate that Lady Sudarshane was a wise woman.
    “Really, Scirye,” Lady Sudarshane said in Kushana, “we simply can’t have you frightening the natives.”
    “Why, mother,” Scirye replied in the same old tongue, “whatever do you mean? I was entertaining Mrs. Rudenko with a little fairy tale.”
    Lady Sudarshane sighed. “I would prefer it if you bored the natives from now on, dear. And lift your chimiton. It’s dragging on the floor again.”
    Scirye found that the heavy cloak had slipped off her shoulder once more and she hauled it back up. “It’s not my fault that it won’t stay put. Why can’t I wear my normal clothes instead of all this stuff? You’re the one who’s always trying to convince the reporters that we’re a modern, civilized people. Why dress like barbarians?”
    “It’s not ‘barbarian,’“ Kles scolded her. “It’s a mixture of the best of Greek and Parthian.”
    “Don’t forget Indian,” Nishke added.
    “Only barbarians can’t make up their minds and stick with one style,” Scirye groused, indicating her long, red silk tunic with lavender-striped sleeves which was cinched by a bronze belt above her waist with a circular silver buckle with crossed axes beneath the moon. All the Kushan wore the symbol of their empire somewhere on their costumes. Draped over her left shoulder was a cloaklike piece of cloth that was wrapped diagonally around her torso and on which she kept tripping. Silk purple trousers with red chevrons were tucked into antelope-skin boots. She intended to keep the foot gear since they felt as if they had been molded to her calves and feet.
    The Lady straightened her daughter’s costume. “We need to becolorful enough to grab the front page. If we dress in our regular clothes, we’ll wind up on a back page next to announcements for the garden club.”
    “Then why don’t we just rent some clown costumes?” Scirye countered.
    Nishke joined her mother in trying to calm her sister. “The costumes are part of setting the right atmosphere,” she explained. “If you dress like any girl in San Francisco, how will they know you’re a Kushan?”
    Scirye felt as if her mother and sister were both ganging up on her. She already knew she would never be as noble as her sister or as exquisite as her mother.
    Scirye hunched her shoulders sullenly. “That’s easy for you to say when you get to dress like a warrior.”
    Nishke affectionately adjusted a curl hanging against Scirye’s cheek. “I happen to
be
a Pippal.”
    “And so will I,” Scirye mumbled. “Just you wait.”
    The Lady Sudarshane rolled her eyes at Nishke. “This is all your fault. You set a bad example for your little sister.”
    Nishke held up both hands as she laughed. “Don’t blame me. The sisters say you’re the one who set a bad example by quitting the sisterhood to join the consular corps.”
    The corners of Lady Sudarshane’s mouth slipped upward. “Well, if I hadn’t, I would never have met your father and then where would you two miscreants be? You’re going to turn my hair gray yet.”
    Actually, Nishke had never caused her parents any major worries. She had always known what she wanted and aimed for her