Free Wisdom's Kiss by Catherine Gilbert Murdock Page B

never locate a single item in that maze of rooms and wardrobes and chests of drawers—and withdrew. With a start she wondered if she should have tipped them. Certainly she would have expected recompense for such a service, but this was palace staff, not paid lodging, and besides she had no coins to offer.
    There was so much, so very much, she did not know. Almost everything, in fact.
    For example: could she walk through the palace confines unescorted? And if so, should she cover herself? Trudy certainly did not relish the thought of traipsing about with her hair and much of her chest exposed. Peering out the windows, she espied several women, and the fashion did seem inclined toward bare heads and decolletage. She sighed. At least she was spared the trouble of locating an appropriate wrap, for her old cloak (held with two fingers by the maid who unpacked it) had no place over such a gown, and she would never wear one of the queen's.
    Checking to ensure Escoffier was safe—he had dismissively sniffed at a dish of chopped meat before curling up in the middle of a vast white bedspread—and that Tips's emeralds were still safe in her ears, Trudy departed the suite, copying as best she could the nonchalant confidence of the gentlewomen she had observed.
    Within minutes, she was hopelessly lost, her sight completely unobliging. Where the guards were housed she had not a clue, she now realized, nor whether Tips would even be present. Was there a separate location for imperial guards? If Tips was on duty—and given the descriptions of his long shifts, Trudy had no reason to suspect otherwise—would she be able to locate him? Would he even be able to speak to her? Perhaps he would not even recognize her! Now that she dwelled on the matter, Trudy was not sure she would recognize him—it had been six years, after all, since his departure from Bacio. Dark hair, brown eyes, long lashes, yes, but he was not a child anymore.
    Yet she persevered, all too aware that the moment might never return. Descending every staircase she encountered, Trudy presently found herself in the cavernous kitchens, where the harried staff moved around her blue skirts as if Trudy were only ill-placed furniture. A life of toil had left the lass not entirely without resources, and her eyes alighted on a column of porters unloading vegetables. She trailed the empty-handed fellows down a passageway and presently found herself in a service courtyard where great wagons of foodstuffs rolled up and a fishmonger scraped ice from a pyramid of glassy-eyed mackerel.
    On the theory that guards need horses and horses need roads, Trudy headed out the gate and soon enough caught sight of a phalanx of uniformed men. Acutely aware of her low neckline and conspicuous hair, Trudy, as she approached, braced herself for the men's leers. Yet the appraising eyes that greeted her arrival brimmed with admiration, not lechery.
    "How might we help thee, fair lady?" asked one soldier.
    "If any man speak ill of thee, but say the word and I shall have his hide," put in another.
    "And I!" chimed several more.
    Alas, it is experience and not foresight that makes wise men of us all. Trudy knew the soldiers wished to help—she saw that well enough—but she had no idea how, precisely, to ask. A lady didn't inquire after soldiers ... Did she?
    "Ah, yes ... I'm looking for—someone
asked
me to look for—she wants to know—do you have a soldier named Tips? Or Tomas; Tomas Müller?..."
    The men made a great show of concentration. "I must confess the name speaks not to me," the first soldier answered at last, with much regret.
    "Oh. I am so sorry—he works for—he is with—the imperial guard—"
    At this the man shifted. "Ah, the imperial guard ... I know too well those swine."
    His friends snickered. "Aye, and the flat of their swords!"
    "Enough!" snapped the man. "If this fair lady seeks an imperial guard, her wish is my command. I shall escort her myself to their barracks!"
    "And I!"