Robert Asprin - The Dead of Winter

No such touch accompanied the veiled lady's response to the rude almost-woman who breached the bounds of gentility and mannered decency by asking the same question.

"Pox," the veiled lady said tersely. The questioner, while bereft of the sensitivity to blush or even apologize, said no more. Eyes widening, she abruptly remembered that her presence was required elsewhere.

(The first "explanation" was pooh-poohed, though not directly to the veiled one; if that were so, a fellow pilgrim wisely observed, then why were her hands not gloved, and why were they so pretty-a lady's hands? The second explanation was considerably more troubling. It was suspect, but who wanted to take a chance on catching some pox or other? People began to keep their distance, just in case.)

The big good-looking guard from Mrsevada was rude, too, but in a different way. He knew what flashing those good big teeth in that handsome face would get him. It had got him plenty, and would again. Having assured his comrades that he would soon bring them the answer, he addressed her with cocky confidence.

"Whatcha hiding under all them robes and veil, sweets?"

"A syphilitic face and a pregnant belly," the faceless woman told him. "Want to visit me in my tent tonight?"

"Uh-I uh, no, I was just-"

"And what are you hiding behind that totally phony smile, swordsman?"

He blinked and the dazzling smile faded away in patches, like the dissipating of those fluffy white clouds that signify nothing.

"You have a sharp tongue, pregnant and syphilitic."

"That," she told him, "is true. You can understand that I don't like men with winning smiles ..."

The handsome guardsman went away.

After that, no one asked her questions. Furthermore, the guardsmen, her fellow travelers, and the caravanseers not only left her alone, but indeed shunned the veiled woman-who after all could surely be no lady ... !

She had paid her way-the full charge, too-without argument or complaint and with only the modicum of dickering that showed her to be human, though not .arrogant. (Most nobles showed their arrogance either by stating their own price and paying it-usually less than what could be considered fair. Others at once paid what was asked, so as to show that they were far too well off and noble to dicker with mere clerks and caravan masters or booking stewards.) She had brought her own water and foodstuffs. She stayed to herself and caused no trouble, while giving others something to talk about. She was no trouble at all.

The tall caravan master, his gray-shot beard and easy confidence reminders of his experience, did not believe that she was syphilitic, or pocked, or sun cursed, or pregnant either. Nor did he view her as sinister merely because she refused to show her face. Thus Caravan Master Eliab was not pleasant to the little delegation of three women and the prideless husband of one of them, when they came to demand that the veiled person reveal and identify herself on the grounds that she was mysterious and therefore sinister and Frightening The Children.

Master Eliab looked down upon them, literally and figuratively. "Point out to me those children who are affrighted of the Lady Saphtherabah," he said, making up an impressive name for in truth she had signed on with him simply as "Cleya," a name common in Suma, "and I shall make them forget her by giving them something else to be fearful of."

"Hmp. And what might that be. Caravan Master?"

"ME!" he bellowed, and he transformed his bushily bearded face into a fearful scowl. At the same time he swept out the curved sword from his worn paisley patterned sash. Curling his other hand into a claw, he pounced at them.

He took only the one big lunging step, but the members of the delegation took many. Squealing and worse, four disunited individuals fled his company.

When Eliab arose next morning-with the sun, of course-it was to find that the veiled lady had prepared breakfast for him from her own stores and was calmly sharpening his dagger.

"Thank you, Lady," the big caravan master said, with a bow almost courtly.

"Thank you, Caravan Master."

"And will you join me in breaking the night's fasting with this wonderful repast. Lady?"

"No, Caravan Master," she said, rising. "For I could not eat without showing you my face."

"I understand, Lady. And thank you again." He made a respectful sign and watched her glide away, robe's hem on the ground and cloak whipping in the wind that blew worse than chilly, to her own tent. After that he assigned a man to pitch and strike that tent for her. Thus the delegation obtained some result, at that.

At last the cavalcade of humans, beasts, and trade goods reached the tired town called Sanctuary, and the veiled lady detached her three horses and went her way into the dusty old "city." The others saw her no more and soon she was completely out of their thoughts. Neither the big good-looking guard from Mrsevada nor Master Eliab ever forgot her, really, but she slipped easily from their minds, too. The former began flashing his smile and cutting a swath through the girls of Sanctuary, if not the women. As a matter of fact none of them had seen her and so never saw her again or knew if they did, for the veiled lady soon unveiled herself.

In this moribund town of thieves now ruled by weird starey-eyed people or "people" from oversea and un-succored by "protecting" and "Imperial" Ranke, it was easy for the veiled lady to employ a lackey for a few coins and a promise or two. Next she startled and nearly whelmed the poor wight by having him take her to his own home. Within that poorly heated hovel and amid much buzzing curiosity among the neighbors, she effected a change of clothing. That involved removal of all headgear and thus both veils. And that, when she emerged, elicited more buzz, even unto awe.

They were the first outside Suma to see the face and figure of her whose name was not Cleya or Saphtherabah, but Kaybe Jodeera.

She was blessed with beauty, true beauty. It was at once a blessing and a curse. Jodeera knew herself for a beauty. She admitted and understood and accepted the fact. She had learned that it was not a blessing, but a curse. She had lived long with it, and paid the price; several prices. One was that it was not wise for a woman so staggeringly well-favored to travel unaccompanied. Even with a protector and amid the whistling winds of winter, she might well have proven invitation to and source for trouble within the caravan. Jodeera knew this; she had long been beautiful and admitted and accepted it-as curse. Therefore she had chosen to conceal herself utterly. Better to be a source of speculation and gossip than of trouble! (She was neither pregnant nor obese, nor even "overweight," that delicate phrase for people of sedentary habits who were without restraint in the matter of food and drink.)

Furthermore, Jodeera and the sun were not enemies. She was not syphilitic. She was not even pocked.

She stepped forth from the house of her new lackey unveiled and clasping a long amethystine cloak over the azure-and-emerald gown of a lady, and she was breathtaking. She was radiance to challenge the sun; she was Beauty to challenge the goddess Eshi Herself.

And she was looking for a man. A particular man.

She and her lackey-his name was Wintsenay and he was best described as an overage street urchin-returned through town, saw a killing and pretended not to, two blocks farther along stepped carefully around another murder victim not yet cold, satisfactorily answered the questions of a Beysib who looked worse than nervous and ready to draw the sword on its or her back, and came at last to a fine inn. There they installed her.

Oh, but Jodeera turned heads in the White Swan! Nevertheless, she caused herself to be. conducted at once to an available chamber, one with a good bed and a good lock on the door. Though many waited and watched and some of them entertained dreams and pleasant fantasies, she did not return to the common room. She remained in her own rented chamber. Her hireling Wintsenay slept before the door, armed, but nothing untoward befell her at the White Swan.