Unmasked

by Kevin J. Anderson

  The clock behind the porter called out eight times. On the final ring, I felt myself fall into character.

  “Go now,” I ordered the porter. “Meet me in an hour’s time at the stables, and you’ll have your diamond.”

  With a distrustful glance, the porter opened the door to the lounge, exposing a wave of mild laughter and stuffy music. The door needed to be opened fully to accommodate his portly body, but he shut it behind himself with little ceremony, leaving me alone with my contact.

  “My lady?” the boy asked into the stillness. I glanced at him, a brow raised. “W-what should I do?”

  My eyes lowered to the pouch. Taking it from him, I opened it to see a velvet interior filled with coins. Pulling one out, I ensured it truly held the current king’s seal. It did. So, the coins were genuine. Pursing my lips, I counted ten coins for myself, slipping them into a pocket sewn in the side of my skirts. Then, I sealed the pouch and handed it back to the boy.

  “Take this,” I ordered. “And make sure you never see me again.”

  The boy’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping slack. His hands shook, and he looked as though he wanted to argue. Honor, I realized, and maybe fear. He was smart, wondering if I was setting him up.

  “Throw away the pouch,” I advised, my voice softer. “Or sell it. Use something sturdy and nondescript to carry the coins. Burlap will do. Sew a few of those coins into your cloak and shoes. Use them carefully.”

  His face hardened into resolve. He nodded, scurrying away with the pouch tucked tightly against his chest. Watching, I waited until he too left the room before reaching into a second pocket in the other side of my skirts.

  I pulled a small, blue masquerade mask from the folds. The edges were lined with black lace—the generic kind you’d get in the market, not the elaborate hand-stitched variety made exclusively for nobles. A simple black ribbon helped secure it to my face.

  This was where the magic began, long before I bothered casting any spell. It started with my gown, a simple frock in average fabrics, and with my hair. My plain brown locks twisted in braids atop my head, unembellished with clips or accessories.

  It continued to my posture, straight but not tall, as I exited the lounge into the great hall. My steps were silent, my hands clutched to my stomach. I made my way past bustling servants, many of whom dodged around me while forgetting to excuse their presence. At a set of wide double doors, very clearly marked for guests, I turned to the right. There was another entrance, one people forgot to watch.

  It was here I entered. I didn’t sneak or bow my head. I merely slipped into the ballroom and merged with the mingling crowds.

  I was invisible. And I had yet to even cast a spell.

  The masks of the noblewomen around me were elaborate. Extended feathers intimidated potential suitors and connections. My own mask was perfectly molded to my face, both custom-made and worn from years of use. Their lips were flushed and painted red, while mine remained a neutral pink.

  I caught myself in the glances of the people around me. Women sized me up as competition, men as a partner. All of them turned quickly away, most likely forgetting my face the moment they did.

  Good.

  Taking a moment to look anxious, to look preoccupied with the social games of the court, I let my eyes search the room. Vaulted ceilings propelled voices up to the chandeliers and back down to the marble floors. The walls were blocked by velvet curtains and portraits, any free floor space taken up by servants carrying hors d’oeuvres and champagne on silver trays.

  I noted potential exits and hiding spots, but they weren’t my objective. Instead, I scoured the guests’ faces for one in particular.

  It didn’t take long to spot him.

  Captain Oliver Alexander O’Hanlon stood in the direct center of the room, right next to the dancing, but just far enough away to avoid doing so himself. He was young, fresh, and tall—taller than most. At this, I frowned. I didn’t like my targets standing out, but what my research didn’t confirm, the voices around me did.

  “Do you see the captain of the guard?”

  “Isn’t he dashing?”

  “Would you introduce us?”

  Damn. I’d have to change my target. With him, there was no chance of escaping without notice.

  A servant walked by with a tray of champagne, and in a moment’s gamble, I adjusted my plans. Reaching out, I took a flute from the servant’s tray, intentionally brushing my fingers against the bare skin of his wrist.

  He said nothing, going on his way, while I let my magic absorb the knowledge I’d stolen in that simple touch.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  I nearly dropped my glass. Turning—a little too fast to be natural—I looked up into the eyes of the very man I’d originally targeted.

  I swallowed, forcing a blasé smile onto my face. “Yes?”

  “You dropped this.” He reached out, extending a white handkerchief between us. I blinked, recognizing it as one of the many objects I kept in my hidden pockets. A flush filled my cheeks, not one of embarrassment, but of discomfort. I wasn’t used to people noticing me. And, suddenly, I found his pale gaze overbearing.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, hoping he would decide against continuing the conversation and just leave.

  Of course, he didn’t.

  “I haven’t seen you in the court before,” he commented, as I tried to relax my shoulders.

  “I’m surprised you recognize anyone,” I replied, “considering this is a masquerade.”

  At this he smiled. I hated that smile. It spoke of hidden knowledge, hinted that he held a secret I couldn’t decipher.

  “You’d be surprised,” was all he said, and I felt my façade crack in annoyance.

  “Very little surprises me,” I retorted. And then, looking about, I realized he was still the center of attention, bringing me into attention by proxy. Falling into a curtsey, I hoped he didn’t hear the strain in my voice as I said, “I really must find my escort. Goodbye.”

  Trying to keep my gait even as I walked away, I heard whispers follow me.

  “Why would Captain Oliver speak to her?”

  “Did that girl just walk away from the captain?”

  “Who is she?”

  I was becoming Known and Known was the last thing I wanted to be. My jaw clenched as I waited for the focus to slide from me the way it usually did, but tonight it seemed to stick instead.

  The feeling of Captain Oliver’s gaze heated my back as I slipped between bodies in the crowd. I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder, my hand shaking and spilling drops of champagne onto my skirts.

  Focus, I ordered myself. My heart pounded. Glancing at the clock in the corner, I bit my cheek.

  I’d already wasted fifteen minutes.

  After another five minutes, I felt the attention of the room truly slide away from me once again. I would have preferred to wait a bit longer, but I didn’t have time. My window was closing.

  As casually as possible, I made my way along a refreshment table against the wall. At the end of it, nearly hidden behind a floor-length purple tapestry, servants bustled in and out, restocking, cleaning, serving, and remaining unseen.

  They didn’t have the access I needed, but they would have to do. Setting my glass on the table, I tapped twice against the corner of my mask and felt the rush of my magic covering me. Nothing physically changed. In fact, to my own eyes, nothing changed at all. But to anyone who was looking, I was the exact servant I’d brushed against earlier.

  As seamlessly as possible, I joined the other servants, slipping into the kitchens while reviewing every map I’d spent the past month memorizing. All the while, I counted each breath, knowing I only had sixty before the magic wore off.

  It’d taken years to master this trick, and even then, my time was limited.

  Five, I counted with my exhale, searching for a door in the back of the room. There!

  The door was simple, narrow, and obviously designed to take up as little s
pace as possible. As I made my way to it, a few of the other servants shot me annoyed looks, probably thinking I was going to shirk my duties. This was, of course, why servants were the worst to impersonate. The nobles may not notice them, but they more than made up for this with the tabs they kept on each other.

  Behind me, the door to the ballroom opened. I glanced back, my heart in my throat, seeing the very man I was disguised as just beyond. Striding forward, I opened the back door and slipped out.

  Two more breaths were wasted as my heart raced. Had they noticed that there were two of us? I clenched my fist, deciding it wouldn’t matter as long as I was out of here long before they chose to raise an alarm.

  This corridor reflected the same design principles as the door. It was narrow, narrow and short enough that I figured a man like Captain Oliver would have to duck to get through. Another good reason to have avoided disguising myself as him.

  Continuing forward, I balanced counting my breaths and counting doorways.

  A right, I recited. Then a left. Straight, straight, and another left.

  “You there!”

  I involuntarily exhaled my fortieth breath as I turned to answer the call. I didn’t recognize the man, but I’d spent enough time in the bowels of castles to guess his position.

  The head of servants, possibly with a minor title.

  I bowed my head, holding my breath.

  “Why are you down here? You should be tending to our guests.”

  I swallowed. As I spoke, my voice was feminine to my own ears, but the magic held true. He showed no suspicion that he was speaking to anyone other than a wayward servant.

  “Apologies, sir. Captain Oliver asked for a specific kind of wine from the cellar.”

  The man’s brows rose, and he took a moment to ponder my words. I mentally cursed his hesitation, my lungs burning as I attempted to conserve as much time as possible.

  “Captain Oliver, huh? Damn him, always trying to show off.” He looked at me, his eyes focused just above my head. “Well, carry on then.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  And then, as we passed each other in the narrow hall, I managed to brush my bare hand against his.

  The knowledge of his form trickled into my mask, bringing me some comfort as I released my fiftieth breath. Only ten more in this form. I needed to hurry.

  My steps were less casual as I rushed onward. At the end of the hall I stopped, opening a nondescript door to my left. At least here, in this castle, they didn’t display their riches. Too many people hid valuable things in ostentatious places. Of course, their foresight hadn’t helped them here.

  Shutting the door behind, I didn’t bother lighting the candles. Darkness washed over the space, covering me as well as blinding me. It didn’t matter—I had the way memorized.

  Sixty. The air around me crackled when I released my breath, a telltale sign of the servant’s form melting away. The mask felt cool against my skin, as if apologizing. I stroked the silky material.

  You did well, I told it. And, for a moment, it warmed.

  Beneath my shoes, the stairs were slick, untended, and unused by anyone but the guards. Each click of my heels against their stone echoed throughout the cramped space. Despite my source’s assurance that the guard assigned on this night would be visiting his mistress for at least an hour, the sound set me on edge. People were unreliable. There was no way of knowing if he might have chosen this exact night to stop cheating on his wife.

  Still, as I reached the bottom of the stairs, there was only a door waiting for me. No guard, no hint that anyone knew I was there.

  My mask tingled with the knowledge I’d fed it earlier, but I brushed against it soothingly.

  “Not yet,” I murmured. I needed to save that form for my escape.

  From my pockets I produced a simple iron key—a gift from my client. As I inserted it into the lock, the resulting click once again echoed through the space.

  The door didn’t move without some prompting. It was sturdier than the others, made of metal instead of wood. I was used to this, and by occupational hazard, I was stronger than most might assume. It took the force of my entire body, but I was able to shove it open just wide enough to pull my skirts through.

  The room was dim, but the sounds my shoes made against the floor confirmed what my maps had already told me—it was large, as large as the ballroom, with a shorter ceiling. These weren’t just the king’s riches, but his heirlooms. The birthrights of the royal family.

  I didn’t bother gaping at the glittering jewels or fine clothes. I didn’t touch the bags of coins, the likes of which could have made me richer than any noble in the ballroom.

  The porter’s diamond sat against the left wall in a locked glass case. Ignoring everything else, I walked over to the case and looked down at the necklace. The blue-tinted gem winked back at me, and I saw my reflection grimace in its protective glass.

  Such a fuss over a rock.

  Wrapping my hand in the handkerchief that the captain had returned to me, I pushed my fist through my reflection. It shattered, glass littering the table and the floor below. Shaking fine shards from the cloth, I plucked the diamond necklace from its velvet cushion and wrapped it in my handkerchief.

  The little package tucked nicely into the folds of my skirts, and my eyes flickered to a clock by the door. Thirty minutes gone. This left me with just enough time to search for my own treasure before I needed to escape.

  I mentally recalled a different map, this one leading to a separate part of the castle. Nothing in the vault tempted me as I stepped over broken glass and made my way back up the stairs. Gems and coins never did, but they were a good way to get inside places like this.

  Places that held what I really wanted.

  I cracked the door atop the stairs open just enough to feel the warm air from the hall before I stopped. No footsteps or voices made themselves known, but it was still dangerous to go out as myself. If someone saw a guest this deep in the castle, they’d start asking questions.

  And I couldn’t afford to have anyone asking questions.

  Still, my goal was far enough away that I wasn’t confident I could get there in sixty breaths. My hand twitched over the doorknob, my mouth dry in want.

  It was a risk. It was a dumb risk. If they caught me with that diamond in my pocket, I’d be hung. Or executed on the spot.

  But I needed to know who I was.

  Reviewing the map in my mind, I slipped into the hallway as my own self. Everyone’s attention would be on the ballroom, on the party and the guests’ needs. Very few people, much less anyone of importance, would be this far in the castle.

  But that didn’t make it empty.

  One hand on my mask, the other clenched into a fist, I wove my way through passages until the narrow halls of the servants’ wing turned into sweeping corridors covered by plush carpets and royal portraits. At each turn, I paused, listening for anyone who might discover me.

  It was at one such stop that I heard two servants discussing a need for clean linens—apparently a relatively drunk count happened to have bumped into a servant carrying a tray of red wine. Whatever the reason, they would know immediately that I was out of place. Swallowing, I tapped twice against the mask on my face and held my breath.

  As the servants turned the corner, they stopped in shock at the sight of their superior, their eyes lowered in deference.

  I didn’t bother speaking, knowing each breath was precious. Nodding, I gestured for them to move along. They did so, preoccupied with their own tasks, and I continued on my way. With a clenched jaw, I trapped the air in my lungs until I felt as though I’d burst. Then, I released it, sucked in another breath, and repeated the process.

  In this way, I made it to the records room in only three breaths. This left me with fifty-seven to search the documents, grab what I needed, and escape.

  If, that is, they even had the information I sought.

  Opening the door, I knew that a
t least this area would be safe. Anyone who worked here would be long gone, party or not. I could, for the moment, let down my guard.

  But, sitting casually at a desk in the center of the room, was Captain Oliver.

  I blinked. My mind went blank. Why was he here? The desk in front of him was empty. His chin rested on his hands, his eyes unsurprised, as though he’d been expecting me.

  Well, not me, but the man I appeared to be.

  By the time I’d organized my thoughts, I realized that I’d wasted five more breaths. Stupid.

  It’s okay, I told myself. You’re the head of servants. You belong here.

  Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me.

  “Hello,” Oliver called into the otherwise empty room, one hand raised in greeting.

  My brows rose, and I tried to calculate what sort of relationship these two might have. “Hello,” I responded, trying to keep my gaze even. Shifting eyes were the easiest sign of deception. “Just wanted to grab some things for tomorrow.”

  Oliver nodded, as though he’d expected this. He didn’t move as I walked up to the shelves, his gaze on me.

  Fifteen … sixteen …

  “Escaping the party?” I asked casually as I scoured the shelves for any sign of what I might be looking for. It wasn’t much. The only thing I knew about my past was one word, scrawled on expensive parchment.

  Hermitage.

  Castles kept extensive records of their holds. Parchment that nice had to have come from a royal record room, such as this one. I’d already searched the palaces of eight kingdoms, but there were no records of such a place.

  The scraping of a chair against the floor told me that Oliver was standing. “Oh, you know, dull company and all that.”

  I nodded to myself, as though agreeing with his words. Meanwhile, my mind raced.

  Twenty-two breaths … Herastown … Hinderites … Twenty-three … no Hermitage.

  It wasn’t here. Of course, it wasn’t. Bitter tears pricked at my eyes, and I reminded myself that this wasn’t the time. Not now, not here, not under the captain’s piercing gaze.

  “I can help you find what you’re looking for,” Oliver’s voice, startlingly close, pierced the silence.