I would have been happy going on as we were. Just walking from place to place, wearing borrowed clothes and eating donated food. Because really, how different was that from the usual life of a Shield?

  Except that the food had run out. And if I didn’t get any coins that night, there would be no food tomorrow. None. I just couldn’t believe it. What if I was terrible? What if I got nothing? What would we do?

  Well, I, for one, wasn’t going to panic. At least, not until it actually happened.

  Once the heat became a little less stifling, I gathered some water from the stream and washed the sweat from my skin. I went through my routine in my head. I thought about chewing my nails.

  And then Kahlia came, bearing an armload of stuff. “Time to get ready,” she announced cheerfully.

  I looked up at the sun, past its zenith but still high in the sky. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to start before dark.”

  She tsked, kicking off her sandals. “My, but you learn slow, Leavy-kin. It takes time to prepare. Shall we go in?”

  I wasn’t thrilled to be in the tent when the sun was still up. Even with the flaps up to let in fresh air, it was a stifling place, made worse by the lighting of candles.

  “You really are spending a lot of time on this,” I said. It could be interpreted as an expression of gratitude. It was really more of a question. She was always there.

  “I am moved not only by pure spirit.” She grinned. “If they love you, it flows over. More will come to see me and Corla and the others. You are strange and beautiful and word will carry before us to the next village and the one after that. If all is good people will hear of you in Center Circle long before we reach there, and everyone will want to see you and, also, us.” She knelt on the mat and started laying things out, producing lines of bowls, tiny corked pots, and short sticks of various colors. “There is only one first night, and it must go right.”

  “No pressure,” I muttered.

  “Change into your costume.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  While I was changing into the ridiculous, scanty outfit I hadn’t gone near since it had been assembled, my tormentor was mixing pastes and lining up small colored sticks. “Spirits!” she hissed. “You haven’t sewn the beads on.”

  Oh. I looked down at the plain brown garments I was barely wearing and shrugged. “I don’t know how to sew.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “You can’t sew!” She sounded scandalized.

  “Of course not.”

  “What do you mean, of course not? What do you do when you lose a button?”

  “I leave the shirt at the haberdashery and have them sew it on.” Or, more likely, simply got a new shirt.

  “Can’t you do anything?”

  Back in my own sane, comfortable world, I wouldn’t have felt the need to glare at her. Roll my eyes, certainly, but not glare. Here, however—“I am a Shield.” And that meant plenty, thank you very much.

  She sniffed. “That’s no use here.”

  Oh aye. Then why was someone out there channeling?

  “It’s too late to do anything about it now. Sit down.”

  I frowned, as I didn’t care for her brusque tone, but I sat. “Did you play your games today?”

  “You mean my shells?”

  “Aye.”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you do well?”

  “Well enough. It’s always better on the second day.”

  So it wasn’t a poor day’s earning that had her in her little mood. I didn’t know where else to safely prod, and I realized for all her constant presence and her brutal honesty, I really knew very little about her.

  And that was because we always talked about me, when we were together. My past, my dancing, what was wrong with my personality. I should make more of an effort to turn things around, so there would be more discussion about her.

  The problem was that it would be an effort. Just being around her took work. I felt like I had to be so careful about what I said, to spare myself the blasts of her honesty.

  “I’m going to put this on your skin,” she said then, holding out a small bowl of unpleasant-looking, opaque paste. “On your face, arms, shoulders and legs. It’s to prevent your cosmetics from running.”

  “Ah,” I said. Wasn’t really looking forward to having that rubbed all over my skin. It looked vile.

  She was quick but thorough as she spread the paste on my limbs. The paste turned out to be odorless and, while slightly greasy, not at all uncomfortable. In fact, it felt nice to have her spreading it on, her fingers light but slightly calloused, giving her touch a pleasant friction. It relaxed me.

  “You’ll have to sit still for this next part,” she warned me, wiping her hands off with a cloth. She picked up one of the small sticks.

  She was working near my eyes. Joy. But the end of the stick was soft, her grip on my chin was gentle and sure, and her use of the stick was confident and careful as she drew along my eyes. The other stick was for my lips, an odd dark brown color that I couldn’t think would look attractive. But what the hell, she was engineering the whole look. I had to trust her. I supposed.

  Then there was another bowl. Another paste, orangey, sort of, and it glittered. “Now this is going to be fun,” Kahlia promised with a grin.

  “What is it?”

  “Your tattoos.”

  “No tattoos,” I objected promptly.

  “Only for a night, silly Shield.”

  She said the word strangely. Not quite derogatory. Not with any sort of respect. Almost like she was trying to tease but, not having any real idea what a Shield was, missing the mark.

  She dipped her finger into the paste, then drew her index finger down my nose.

  “Do we really need to be drawing attention to my nose?” I asked.

  “Hush, you foolish child,” she chided me in a low, gentle voice.

  Next, just over my eyebrows, along the cheekbones, and over my jawline. She lightly tapped the tip of her pinky over my lips. She dipped into the bowl again and spread more of the cool mixture over my throat, along the jugular, and then following the line of my collarbones.

  The paste was cool on my skin. The silence of the tent was soothing to my ears. I couldn’t help relaxing a little. It was almost, almost, comfortable enough to make me drowsy.

  The next step in the process was more artistic use of the paste, swirling it in coiling lines down my arms and legs, over my stomach and the back of my shoulders. This took a while.

  “Are you nervous?” she asked.

  For some reason, the question I had no difficulty with from Karish irritated me mightily coming from her. “I have been bench dancing most of my life,” I informed her coolly. “I won’t let you down.” I hoped.

  “You’ll do better than that,” she said, drying the paste on my skin by waving a fan over it. “You’ll steal everyone’s breath tonight. Everyone who sees you will fall in love with you. If they haven’t already.”

  Something in her warm tones made me shiver.

  I didn’t want anyone to fall in love with me. That never ended well.

  “Look,” she said, fanning that last bit of paint. She moved a couple of candles around, then took one of my hands and drew my arm out.

  It was a shock. Glittering flames seemed to writhe over my arms and legs. With an expression of pride, Kahlia handed me a mirror. Wide green eyes, dramatically curving lines surrounding them, stared back at me. My lips seemed full and the lines of glitter over my cheekbones, jawline, throat and collarbones gave them a strange emphasis they lacked in the everyday.

  The whole image looked uncomfortably bizarre. Like a caricature of myself.

  “Imagine meeting her as a stranger,” Kahlia whispered. “For the first time, this is what you see.”

  And at her words, it was as though my perceptions just flipped over. A grotesque perversion of me became a stranger, a glorious exotic stranger of flair and drama. Wide-eyed and vibrant and absolutely stunning.

  I couldn’t believe that was me.

  I was gorgeous.

  I’d never been gorgeous before. It made me feel strange. Not in a bad way, though. “Gods, Kahlia.” I reached up to touch a cheekbone.

  “Ah ah. Wait ’til it dries.” With a thumb and forefinger she caught my wrist and kept my hand from my face. She was beaming. “I’m only showing what there is, to those too blind to see on their own.”

  “No,” I objected softly. “You’ve done magic, you have.”

  And her smile slipped away. “Have you water?”

  “Uh.” How was that for a sharp shift in subject? “You’re thirsty?”

  “No. I mean to wash after you perform. You won’t want to sleep in this paint. And you won’t feel like gathering water after you’ve shown.” She began collecting up the items she had brought, tossing them into her bag. “I’ll fetch some for you. Have you soap?”

  Had I offended her in some way? How? Should I ask? “Of course, but you don’t have to—”

  “I’ll be right back.” She was out of the tent.

  Feeling a little disoriented by her abrupt departure and having no idea what to do about it, I ended up staring at myself in the mirror.

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing was me. I had always been plain, almost bland. If someone had shown up with a magic wand offering to make me beautiful I wouldn’t have said no, but being plain had never disturbed me. It was what I was, and it had its advantages. But this face I was seeing in the mirror, it was almost otherworldly. It would certainly be hard to forget. How could mere paint do so much?

  The tent flap was pushed aside. The dying dusk light flashed in. Karish stopped midentrance and stared at me. “What the—”

  “It’s for my performance,” I said. A little proudly, I had to confess.

  He didn’t respond, just kept looking at me.

  “You don’t like it?” I was stunned. How could he not?

  I was disappointed. A sharp ache blossomed in my chest, all out of nowhere.

  He was so glorious. I had thought, for a brief moment, that for once I might be able to match him.

  “It took great artistry to create the appearance,” he said.

  The hand holding the mirror dropped of its own volition. “Zaire, you’re being diplomatic.” Always a bad sign.

  “You don’t look like you anymore.”

  “That’s the point.”

  “It shouldn’t be. It’s your skill that matters.”

  “Not here. Here it’s about the show of it.”

  “That’s the problem.” He held up his hands before I could protest. Not that I was going to. I felt too deflated to want to say anything. “I know, I know. You don’t really have a choice. You have to go through all this as part of the job. And I’m sorry about that.”

  I wrapped up the mirror. I wished I could wash all of the mess off my skin. I didn’t dare. Kahlia would kill me.

  “Can I come in?” Kahlia called from outside.

  Karish scowled.

  “Of course,” I answered.

  She squeezed in by Karish, who was unwilling to make much room for her. “Water for after.” She hefted the bucket before placing it in a safe corner. “And I thought of this. You can wear it on the way to the bars.” It was a plain hooded cloak, of rough brown material. “I know it’s got no flash, but that’s all to the good. People will be taken aback by the dazzling creature underneath.” She grinned at Karish. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “I prefer her as she was,” he said, reaching for my face.

  She slapped his hand away.

  He gaped at her, shocked.

  “You’ll blur the paint,” she explained.

  He glared at her.

  She smirked back at him, an air of challenge about her stance.

  “Are you sure people will even show up to see this?” I asked hastily, feeling a distraction was in order. “How will they even know I’m here?”

  “We’ve been telling them,” she said, sounding like she thought the question was stupid. “Leavy the Flame Dancer. Come and be entranced.”

  Oh lord. I hated that name already.

  She saw my expression and giggled. She was too old to be giggling. “I’m going to go and help set up. I want to make sure it has the right flair. Come out as soon as it’s completely dark. Just follow the road. You’ll know it when you see it.” She winked at Karish and ducked back out of the tent.

  “I don’t like her,” he announced.

  “Why not?” Yes, she could be too blunt, but there were worse things. “I don’t know what I’d have done without her, to be honest.”

  He snorted.

  I looked down at myself. And I saw myself through his eyes. The short skirt, the scanty top, the childish paint all over the limbs. I did look ridiculous. What was I thinking, being seen by people like this?

  “I know you need the costume for the performance, Lee,” he said in a soft voice. “I’ve seen the others. This is the way it’s done. I just…” He shrugged. “You remind me of the Empress’s court, with all that paint. It’s all so fake.”

  I felt a spurt of irritation. I didn’t need to be made to feel this way just before exposing myself in front of strangers. “Cosmetics are no different from fashionable clothes,” I pointed out. “You fuss over your clothes all the time.”

  “Ah, but I’m a useless peacock,” he retorted. “Decoration is all I’m good for.” He paused a moment. “Though not even that here, apparently.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from speaking. I was not going to pander to his ego after he’d just finished shredding mine.

  He pushed his hands through his hair, then shook his head. “Don’t mind me, Lee. I’m being a brat.” He offered up a weak, bent smile. “How are you feeling?”

  Annoyed. Embarrassed. Nervous. Oddly cold. Very hungry. Slightly panicked.

  I didn’t want to talk about it. I shrugged.

  The sun slid down behind the horizon too quickly, and the knot in my stomach spread to my chest and threatened to crawl into my limbs and freeze my muscles.

  I pulled in a deep, deep breath. I was nervous. Yes, I was nervous. There was no point being nervous. Because what would happen if I did badly? Nothing life threatening, not for me or for anyone else. There would be jeering. People would leave in the middle of it. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any flying vegetation. There was great possibility for humiliation, but nothing fatal. I could handle humiliation. I just needed a few years and a cave. Really, it was nothing to be afraid of.

  Oh, and the fact that Karish and I would starve to death. Mustn’t forget that.

  “We should get going.” I picked up Kahlia’s cloak, draping it over my shoulders, assuming Kahlia wouldn’t have given it to me if it were a danger to the paint.

  “I imagine you should have this up,” Karish suggested, standing before me and drawing the hood up over my head. “Heighten the suspense and all.” He fussed with it a few moments, settling the folds to his satisfaction. “That’ll do. Ready to go?”

  No. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” I confessed.

  “Oh no.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “You’ve done much stupider things.”

  I glared at him.

  He grinned, then leaned down for a quick peck on my lips. “You’ll be brilliant, Lee. Don’t worry.”

  I brushed the trace of glitter off his lips with my thumb and sighed. “All right. No use delaying anymore.”

  I breathed very carefully as we walked, trying to settle my stomach. Too much of a panic would render me unable to dance at all. We walked past the other tents, huddled close together in the small clearing we had cut out ourselves. And then by some sort of field that smelled unpleasantly damp, the foliage stripped out of the ground year after year by the residents, opening up the sky to our view. And then some small squat buildings of the same open, multipurpose styles we’d seen elsewhere.

  We passed the jugglers throwing torches at each other, and Rinis, who was coiling and jumping in candlelight. Corla was reading palms to the gullible in a tiny and intimate circle of black felt. With so much to see, no one paid attention to us, and I really wished circumstances would keep it that way.

  As Kahlia had assured me, the site of my humiliation was easy to find. We heard the music first, and light and playful sort of drumming with the odd pipe notes tossed in. Then we traversed a bend in the road and saw the scattering of torches, glinting off the skin of far too many spectators.

  “Damn,” I muttered.

  I felt the lightest touch on my shoulder. “They’ll love you, Lee,” Karish said. “They won’t be able to help it.”

  I didn’t care about making anyone love me. I just wanted to avoid laughter.

  I wondered if I should tell him Kahlia had said almost exactly the same thing.

  “Must they have started the music so soon?” I griped. “They’re attracting too many people.” The crowd among the torches was much larger than those around the jugglers or Rinis.

  “That’s the point, isn’t it? To get as many people here as possible?”

  Don’t talk to me of logic. “Shut up, Karish.”

  He chuckled, the bastard. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so jittery, Lee.”

  I wasn’t jittery. I was apprehensive. A whole different emotional state.

  Kahlia, the wench, must have been looking out for me. “And now!” she called out, and the music stopped. “Your wait is over! Ladies and gentlemen, watch and admire, be entranced and bedazzled by the mistress of fire and air! Here she is! Leavy the Flame Dancer!” And Karish, with his usual sense of drama, slipped the cloak from me from behind. So all of a sudden, I was completely exposed.

  People turned to follow the direction of Kahlia’s pointed arm. They all stared. Some of them gasped. Was I that freakish looking? Was everything covered as it should be? Were they all thinking I was the most hideous idiot they’d ever seen? They parted, leaving a path for me to walk to the bars.

  Hell. What a nightmare. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to get from here to there?

  Well, it took a step. Forcing my head high and my shoulders back—I refused to thrust out my breasts—and keeping my gaze trained on Kahlia, I took a step, and then another.