"Midas Chapel," Calliope said, and I think there was even a little smile in her voice, "I'm surprised they actually let you in here."

I snagged a glass of eiswine from a passing tray. "What can I tell you, sweetheart? I'm the good man you can't keep down, no matter how hard you try."

She sipped with delicate lips from a tall, crystal champagne flute. "I was thinking you were more like the roach that keeps crawling, no matter how many times you step on it."

"Huh. You gonna flirt with me all night, lady, or can I expect a moment's peace here and there?"

"Oh, I'll always have time for you, Chapel. Maybe someday you'll figure that out and stay away from Zandu altogether." Her dress was black, tight, and it made her look real good. I mean: hot. Sexy. I was entertaining an idle lust for a woman trying to throw me in prison, and enjoying it immensely.

"Don't do me any favors, sweetheart," I said, "Here." She'd been eyeing a strawberry on the buffet table and I decided to make myself useful.

"Thank you," she said, taking it from me, a little surprised. I shrugged. No reason enemies can't be courteous.

We were at the Gala of the Clash, the unofficial start of tournament season in Zanth. In one week's time two hundred and fifty-six men would fight the opening round of the Champion's Tournament, and most of those men were at the Sultan's palace tonight, each with ten or fifteen of their closest friends and relations. That's about three thousand people. Now add about a thousand more of the rich, the powerful, their fawning sycophants, and their sleazy business partners and you'll start to appreciate the magnitude of the celebration. The Sultan of Zandu has his faults, but don't let it be said that he can't throw a party.

I was inside, sheltered in the bright lights and brassy music of the Sultan's ballroom. Dismal and Malachai -- MY sleazy business partners -- were wandering the gardens, no doubt in a heap of trouble and desperately needing my help. That being the case, I settled against a pillar, swapped my eiswine for a brandy, and helped myself to a thick South Chana cigar.

Calliope found a spot next to me on the pillar. "How DID you get in here?" she asked. "Your man hasn't qualified yet, has he?"

"Nope. I've got friends in high places, darling."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

I snorted. "You don't think I know high society?"

"I don't think you have any friends."

"Ouch," I said. I smoked and we watched the rich, fashionable, and connected of Zandu spin around the ballroom floor. It was a fun, bubbly tune, with a lot of horn and a fast beat. My foot tapped and I caught Calliope bobbing her head a little. She blushed and I threw her a wink.

After that one the band shifted it down into something softer, with a mellow pace and a sad melody. I put my cigar out in my brandy glass and held out my hands to Calliope.

"Give me a dance, darling."

She shrank back against the pillar and shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Come on. You need to be seen by these movers and shakers dancing around and just all over a tall, really handsome, distinguished looking guy." I beckoned her again.

She raised an amazingly elegant eyebrow. "Did you see one somewhere?"

"Come on, lady. Quit busting my chops." I used my best wolfish grin. It always works.

"All right," she said, "but it's only out of a sense of pity."

She folded nicely into my arms, but just before we started she looked me dead in the eye and went again with that lifted brow. "Just remember, no funny stuff. And you'd better be good."

I winked. "Sweetheart, you have no idea."

It was real nice. She was a sweet little armful, and I was just liquid grace. I occasionally get this stiff leg, a souvenir from my mercenary days, but it was being agreeable for once. At first she was surprised at the skill hiding under my rough exterior; then she was impressed; and midway through the thing she just kind of sighed, leaned into me, and rested her head on my chest. We slowed it down. The music went low and mournful into deep, rich tones, and Calliope and I swayed in the middle of the floor while all the nobles of Zandu spun around us in a sultan's waltz. We were like that for a long time. Then the music sailed away into a wistful, lonely blue finish.

Calliope leaned away from me, blinking a little like she was just waking up. "Well," she said, "that was...surprising." She met my eyes for a moment, then looked down at her feet.

"Yeah, who'd have thought?" I said. The band played something quick and sprightly, and around us the folks started up again, laughing. We were motionless on the dance floor.

"Chapel--" she started, looking up from her feet, and then a well-dressed young Zandir laid a hand on her arm.

"Calliope, I was wondering where you were," he said. I laid a hand on his chest.

"Private party, bub," I said, still looking at Calliope.

"Chapel--" Calliope said, and then,"Zaranth--"

"I don't think so," the Zandir told me. He was very handsome, probably used to getting his way with the ladies. "This is my wife."

"Sure, she's probably your sister, too. Hit the road, junior." I started to take Calliope's arm, ready to lead her away. The young Zandir laid his hand on my shoulder.

"I don't think so, sir," he said calmly but very coldly. I looked at his hand.

"Kid, you'd better move that thing, unless you want to lose it."

"Chapel..." Calliope sighed, "Chapel, he IS my husband."

I cocked an eyebrow at her. I had a feeling this was going to be a good one.

So Adam's Gala continues! More stories still to come from the most happening party in the city of Zanth.

Chapel and Calliope are my PCs.

Zaranth is Mustafa's PC.

Ain't this turning into quite the soap opera?! Keep the stories coming, guys!

DRB

I Don't Believe the Hype
II A Matter of Pride
III Beauty and the Beast
Next: V The Lurker in the Shadows

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