"Esther M. Friesner - Chicks 04 - The Chick Is In The Mail" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

She would happily have danced more with Harald Redbeard, but Nuttin Broadaxe tapped her firmly on
the shoulder at the end of the second, and she remembered that she'd promised him a dance last week.

"Excuse me," she said, giving Harald a last squeeze of the hand and significant glance from under her
lashes. He bowed.

Nutty was, after Harald, a letdown. A competent enough dancer, he felt no obligation to flatter someone
he already knew beyond, "Gosh, Mirabel, this dress doesn't have any back at all!" and "Good thing that
necklace isn't real; some thief would have it off you in no time." Instead, he regaled her with a description
of the Queen's emerald necklace: "a lot like that paste thing you're wearing, actually, but of course hers is
real." The last thing Mirabel wanted to hear about was the Queen; the Queen didn't like women soldiers
in general, and Mirabel in particular.

Mirabel parted from Nutty at the end of that dance, pleading a need for something to drink, and went in
search of Harald. Before she was halfway to the drinks table, Primula had caught her by the arm.
"Mirabel, didn't you have Sergeant Gorse in your list of names?"

It took a moment to think what Primula was talking about, and then she shook her head. "NoтАФI'd have
remembered. At least half mine were people I'd never heard of."

"Oh." Primula let go and wandered off. Mirabel made her way to the drinks table, handed in her chit for
a free drink, and spotted the chancellor, Sophora Segundiflora, chatting with two ministers of state, and a
banker. Mirabel edged that way, keeping an eye out for Harald.

"Mirabel . . . what a lovely gown," Sophora said. "And necklace, too. So like the Queen's, did you
know that?" Her voice had the slightest edge.

"No . . . it's borrowed."

"Ah. I'm glad you didn't wear it just to annoy her. It's amazingly goodтАФit hardly looks like paste at all."

No one ignored Sophora's hints. "Do you think I should take it off?"
 "PerhapsтАФoh, dear." Sophora looked past Mirabel and then murmured, very fast. "It's too late, be sure
you tell her it's a cheap imitation and that you borrowed it." Then, in her usual ringing tone, "Good
evening, Your Majesties. What an honor to have you at the ball."

Mirabel turned. The Queen's face squinched up as she recognized MirabelтАФthen paled in fury as she
recognized the necklace.

"Where did you get that!?" the Queen demanded. "What are you playing at?"

Mirabel looked at the Queen's necklaceтАФas like her borrowed one as if it were spell-doubled, except
that the emeralds seemed somehow diluted of their rich green color. Perhaps that was because of the
taupe gown the Queen wore, perhaps the colors cancelled out or something. "I'mтАФI'm sorry, Your
Majesty," she said, attempting a curtsey. "I just borrowed thisтАФI didn't knowтАФ"

"Borrowed! From whom, may I ask?"

"AтАФa friend." Instinct, racing ahead of thought, warned her not to give a name. "AтАФa dancer. It's only