“Emphasis on later. Ayisa asked me to attend to her before the asala-sala. She can send one of her servants to guide you to the Water Palace, if needed, and then it will be up to you to guess who I am.”
“How is that fair?” he said, grabbing her by the hips. “You’ll know my mask, but I won’t know yours.”
“It might not be fair, but will it not be fun?”
“For you!”
Ria cackled and snuck forward to steal a kiss.
CHAPTER 23
After buying the mask, Damon and Ria briefly returned to the flaqayai. Ria was quickly summoned away by one of Ayisa’s servants, and she gave him an intense kiss goodbye.
“Promise me you will not stop searching until you find me?” she asked. “If I discover you in the arms of some other masked woman…”
“If that happens, it’s on you,” said Damon. “It’s not my fault if I suffer a case of mistaken identity, given the circumstances.”
She shot him an exaggerated glare. Damon gave her another kiss, turned her around by the shoulders, and pushed her out the door by the butt.
He didn’t have much to do that seemed relevant to their end goal, so he settled down at the low table in the flaqayai’s common room and sipped some of the leftover wine from the previous night. A servant arrived with a change of clothing for him. He very nearly refused it before deciding that it made far more sense to pair his fanciful new mask with traditional Remenai clothing, if only for the sake of blending in.
He waited for another hour after getting dressed, watching the sun set over the trees of the forest city as afternoon ceded way to evening. A heavy pounding came at the door too demanding to be any servant. Damon kept a hand on his myrblade as he went to answer.
A man in a fanciful golden tiger mask stood on the other side. Damon sighed and gestured for Austine to enter.
“No need,” said Austine. “I’m here to bring you to the party. Where’s your mask?”
“Right here.” Damon grabbed it from the table and pulled it on. “Did your buy yours in the city, or…?”
“Avarice prompted me to bring one with me before I set out. He’s rather well informed of Remenai traditions.”
“Explains all the glitter.”
“Shut up.”
They were far from the only people walking through the city in the direction of the Water Palace. Damon felt a palpable sense of nostalgia as he glimpsed a few of the women dressed in clothing ranging from elegant to seductive, each clad in a beautiful mask. It was hard not to think of Vel on the night so long ago, a night which had changed the direction of his life forever.
The Water Palace’s main chamber had been transformed into a space for revelry. The tables had all been moved along the outer wall, leaving the majority of the floor open for socializing and dancing. A soft, ambient rhythm came from a trio of drummers in the corner of the room, two playing large hand drums while the third struck out a melody with mallets on silver bells.
Damon searched the assembled guests for Ria, immediately finding the nature of the task daunting in its challenge. The masks more than adequately disguised each of the Remenai women, leaving only basic physical details such as height and shape and hair for him to base his guess on. As it happened, there were many, many women in the Athlatak’s court who resembled Ria to one degree or another.
“I see wine,” said Austine. “I know how I’ll be spending tonight. Just need to make sure I don’t drink too much before my performance.”
“Your performance?” asked Damon.
“Sure,” said Austine. “I thought I might do a circus act of some sort. What do you have planned for yours?”
He stared at Austine blankly, though the reaction came across more in his silence than the facial expression hidden under the wolf.
“You weren’t told?” asked Austine. “All guests from afar are required to perform a skill for the Athlatak and his court. It’s an old Remenai tradition.”
“I really wish Ria had mentioned that,” muttered Damon. “Well… I suppose since we’re both here, Austine, we could—"
“No,” interrupted Austine.
Damon had been about to suggest that they run one of their old gladiatorial routines, and Austine’s sharp dismissal of the idea surprised him.
“We’ve drawn our swords enough against one another,” said Austine. “On stage. In battle. Everywhere, it seems, as of late. I’ve decided on a new approach, for both our sakes. I won’t fight you, Damon, not even in jest.”
“You’re serious?” Damon furrowed his brow underneath the mask. “How long do you think you’ll be able to hold to that commitment?”
“Ideally, as long as needed. More likely, until one of us receives an order we can’t refuse. But until then, I see nothing to gain in us continuing to revel in the more violent aspects of our friendship.”
He patted Damon solidly on the back and walked away. It was hard for Damon to decide whether he was witnessing genuine growth and maturity in Austine, or the same stubbornness they both shared, just aimed in a new direction.
He headed toward where several servants in simple white masks were handing out wooden goblets full of wine. Damon went to accept his and was stopped by a young Remenai serving girl who insisted he take a sip from a mystery ladle first. He acquiesced, tasting a cinnamon liquor so strong that he immediately needed the wine to cool the burning sensation from his mouth.
A hush came across the assembled crowd as the Athlatak entered the chamber from the far door. Several servants began working winches that lowered a hanging wooden platform from the ceiling, similar to the one Damon had seen in the Athlatak’s audience chamber. The Athlatak stepped onto it as it came low enough, and then servants raised it back up to waist height, presenting him to the chamber as the center and highest point of attention.
A masked woman stood nearby the raised platform—Ayisa, Damon assumed. She received as much, if not more attention than the Athlatak, greeting guests one by one as they subtly made their way over to speak with her without seeming to queue in line.
He searched the crowd for Ria again, and again found himself annoyed at the nature of the task. It was hard to keep himself from worrying that she might currently be the object of some other man’s seduction, dancing with a suitor on the center floor, or overhearing some proud Remenai warriors boasting exploits.
He felt like a child for thinking such things and contented himself with sipping his wine and letting the evening run its course. He still needed to address the performance for the guest showcase that Austine had mentioned. He supposed he could display a few of the more acrobatic moves from his days as a gladiator on his own if it came to it.
Servants began setting up the tables along the edge of the room for dinner. Damon was surprised by the complexity of the arrangement, each table adorned with a portable metal brazier stoked with fresh coals, which heated pans of broth and oil.
The food was served raw, thin slices of meat and fresh vegetables, and each guest was given the privilege, some might say busywork, of cooking each item for themselves. He’d stayed at an expensive inn once that had served its meals in a similar manner.
He sat down with Austine at a table all to themselves. Apparently, the Remenai were willing to tolerate their presence at the feast up to the point of actually interacting with them, and not much further. They followed the example of the other guests, pulling their masks to the side just far enough to expose their mouths as they began to cook and eat small bits of food.
“I could get used to this,” said Austine. He pulled a piece of fileted fish from the oil and popped it into his mouth, wincing at the morsel’s heat.
“It’s certainly extravagant, in its own way,” said Damon. “It makes me wonder who the Athlatak is trying to impress.”
His gut instinct was to worry about it being an attempt at converting Ria into an alliance, or possibly even more, but it didn’t fit with the information at hand. More likely, it was to impress him and Austine,
securing the good opinion and possibilities presented by alliances and friendship with the Merinians of Veridan’s Curve.
The crowd’s attention pulled toward the chamber’s center as a Remenai man in a full bird costume, complete with a feathered cloak and an artfully decorated mask, lifted his hands and began speaking. The words, aside from a brief thank you at the start, were lost on Damon, but he suspected he knew what was to come.
“I hope you gave your performance some thought,” said Austine. “Otherwise, you should prepare yourself to be shown up.”
“I have a few ideas,” lied Damon.
The man in the bird costume was popular with the crowd, getting a few hearty laughs and a solid round of applause across the next few minutes. He signaled the audience to silence again and announced the name of the first guest, a Remenai woman in a deer mask with golden-tipped antlers.
She made her way over to speak with the drummers before taking up her place in the center of the room, and breaking out into one of the most mesmerizing dance performances Damon had ever seen. It was a mixture of flips and spins and hip gyrations that left him questioning his assumption that he could simply do a couple of handsprings for his own show and call it a day.
The crowd loved her. Damon applauded with them as she finished, briefly stopping to consider whether he’d just watched Ria’s performance before noticing the long silver streaks in the woman’s hair and discounting her as a potential candidate.
The man in the bird mask returned to the center of the chamber, holding his arms up to command the crowd’s attention. He spoke to them in Konokai, voice playful and booming, leading the crowd in a back and forth that they seemed to know well.
Damon felt a flutter of panic as the bird mask turned his way, but it was Austine the announcer pulled up to perform next. He found it impressive how easily his friend took to the stage, how easily he always had taken to the stage, as he grinned and waved to a crowd of people with whom he could barely communicate.
Austine thrived under the weight of attention, be it positive or negative. Damon watched as he began gesturing to various people still in their seats, confidently pointing out and pantomiming what he wanted in the place of mutual vocabulary.
The Remenai began to throw him pieces of metal — hair pins, knives, belt buckles, no silverware, as most of their eating utensils were made of wood. Austine caught each object and redirected its path upward, quickly building them up until he was juggling six different objects in the air above him.
Austine was a practiced performer, and didn’t limit his act to simple juggling. He sang an old Merinian drinking song, The Kegs of Kentmore, as he juggled, stomping and occasionally sneaking a clap to give the crowd a rhythm to join in. Damon envied the thought his old friend had obviously put into his show, while simultaneously feeling a growing sense of dread at his inevitable turn to attempt to do the same.
More objects were added to the act, an impressive, borderline improbable number. All of them metal. The fact that the juggling was coordinated by Austine’s crest magic dulled the spectacle slightly for Damon, but the crowd didn’t know that, and their enthusiasm was no less infectious for it.
Austine had ten objects in the air at once when he finally brought the show to an end, catching everything while spinning in a quick circle and dipping into a swooping bow. Damon applauded along with the rest of the spectators, though his mind was furiously skipping through ideas for his own show.
“You’d better get ready,” muttered Austine as he rejoined Damon at the table. “You’re up next.”
The Remenai man in the bird mask had already turned his attention Damon’s way. There was no escape for him, and seemingly no justice in the cruel, unconcerned world. He wondered if he could risk sneaking toward the door, but the announcer was already on his way over, and the crowd’s focus had shifted onto him.
He stood up, smiling with confidence he didn’t feel, as the man in the bird mask gestured and shouted something in Konokai that he couldn’t understand. Salvation came at the last second, as it so often does.
A trio of young Remenai washwomen were carrying a large bucket of dirty water from table to table, collecting used and discarded plates. To Damon, they may as well have been carrying a pot of gold.
CHAPTER 24
He intercepted the washwomen and, with a smile and apologetic hands, swept the bucket of water away from them. The announcer in the bird mask narrated his activities in an overdramatic voice, much to the crowd’s amusement.
Damon had the kernel of an idea, but no real sense of what it might grow into. He set the bucket down in the center of the floor and slowly drew his myrblade. A hush fell across the audience, more intrigued than unnerved in character.
He turned his sword point down and dipped it into the water, taking a slow breath as he considered how to manifest the weapon’s enchantment. There was no danger in exposing himself here, so deep in Remenai territory, so far from where his name and abilities made him a wanted man.
The question of what he was supposed to use his myrblade to do for the sake of impressing the crowd was harder to answer than he would initially have expected. He wanted to make something beautiful, but it couldn’t just be from his memory; it needed to be something that they also understood and respected.
He thought of the sight of the water palace from within the city, the same way he’d first been struck by its majesty amidst the trees. The water within the bucket began to rise, still lacking any real shape, forming into a thin layer of ice that would serve as his canvas. His design would be hollow by necessity. He didn’t have all that much water to work with.
The crowd let out several hushed gasps at even just the initial display of his myrblade’s power. Damon tried to keep his focus on remembering each and every detail of the palace’s exterior. He pictured himself and Ria outside the building, and the confident way she’d walked up to the entrance, full of life and spirit.
He swore under his breath as he felt the ice taking on a new shape in response to his thoughts. What was supposed to be the lower half of the building’s wall had formed into a shapely set of legs. He considered for a moment, and then decided to go with it.
He pictured Ria again, the way she stood when she suspected a fight might soon be at hand, beautiful and prideful and wild. He formed hips and buttocks from the ice, a taut stomach, breasts. Realizing that he was, for whatever reason, picturing her naked, he took a breath and garbed her in a flowing gown of thin silk.
The crowd was whispering, though he couldn’t guess whether he’d impressed or scandalized them. He kept going, creating her arms and neck. She was larger than life, expanding upward from the bucket to stand nearly twice Damon’s height. He started creating her head, and then had an idea.
He left her face covered by a vague, unidentifiable mask. It was possible that a few members of the crowd might still identify her from her posture, or build, or make the reasonable guess about who she was from his closeness with her. To those who didn’t, it could have been a statue of any Remenai woman or all of them. By leaving that one detail undeveloped, it left the meaning of his work open for interpretation… to everyone except the statue’s subject.
The crowd applauded for him harder than they had for Austine. Damon felt as though in a dream as he stepped back from the ice statue and sheathed his myrblade. It would last an hour at most, before melting, but had only taken him minutes to create.
The man in the bird mask seized Damon’s arm and pulled it up into the air, shouting excitedly in Konokai. He couldn’t help but grin, feeling a little cocky as he had back in his gladiator days after winning a fight.
“Impressive,” said Austine as Damon sat back down. “Really impressive.”
Austine’s eyes were fixated on the ice statue, as were the gazes of half the adult men in the room. Damon leaned back, searching the crowd instead of taking the chance to admire his own handiwork.
He didn’t see Ria anywhere, and his search was interrupted when
an attractive Remenai woman in a dark raven mask sat herself down on his lap without invitation. He recognized her from the weight of her body, the softness of her butt, and most of all, the feistiness of her eyes.
“You have captured the imagination of the entire chamber,” she whispered. “Should I be jealous of this woman of ice, husband?”
“I think many women are,” said Damon. “She has an incredible body. Hard to keep from staring, or touching, even.”
He kissed her neck and ran his hands up her stomach, only stopping when they were on course to rise above the table and grope her breasts. Her sitting in his lap would have been pushing it too far if not for the masks, and after a few more glorious seconds, she slid sideways into a second chair.
The show, first with the ice, and now with each other, had not been missed by the Athlatak or Ayisa. They were both staring at Damon when he looked their way, whispering to one another, faces and reactions hidden by their masks.
He pulled his attention back to why he was there and what needed to be done. Ria’s mind seemed on the same page as his when he glanced toward one of the chamber’s exits.
“Not just yet,” said Ria. “Let us wait for the next performance.”
An older Remenai woman in a dove mask was brought up next, and immediately began serenading the crowd with her beautiful singing voice. Ria pulled Damon along the edge of the room as the eyes of the crowd were captivated by the song.
There was a guard blocking the exit that led deeper into the Water Palace. Ria gave Damon a meaningful, almost apologetic look before approaching and applying her charm. The guard was old and distractable, and Damon managed to slip by while Ria held him in the spell of conversation.
The Water Palace’s hallways were unfamiliar to him, but simple enough in layout to guess where he needed to head. He kept close to the wall, peering around each corner and staying alert for guards.
The Athlatak’s bedchamber seemed an obvious place to begin his search. Damon found a staircase leading both up and down, and he went up, pausing at the top to let a guard pass before quickly crossing to another passageway.
Sin and Soil 9 Page 12
