"Lookit that. It's the lad with the purple lamps."
George of Trebond turned at the voice of a woman behind him. She was a brunette, with hazel eyes, dressed in a man's tunic, shirt and breeches instead of a dress.
"Yes, Mistress...." He trailed off, puzzled.
"Alanna Cooper," she folded her arms across her chest, sizing him up. She was a head shorter than he was, even though she looked to be older. "Had my people keepin' an eye on ye, lad. The likes of you don't go unnoticed, hereabouts."
She spoke and dressed like a commoner, a rough and tumble sort. "Mistress Cooper..."
"Alanna," she interrupted him, firmly. "Mistress Cooper's my Ma, see. You stand out here, country boy. Mind yerself, when you come into the city. If'n you find yourself in trouble, come to the tavern called the Dancing Dove."
"Who are you?"
She raised her eyebrows. "Crooked God's teeth, ye mean ye don't know, lad? I was sure all o' Corus knew me by name." She grinned and leaned over to whisper in his ear, then disappeared into the market crowd, with a wave.
George frowned. Queen of the Rogue?