Lady of Misrule (Marla Mason Book 8)

by T. A. Pratt

  Not for the first time, Bradley really wished he trusted himself enough to order a double Scotch. He’d have to settle for a shower and a nap, which were just about the worst substitutes for getting drunk imaginable.

  •

  The flight was uneventful, and the seats reclined fully into beds, so Bradley even slept well. (He had experience sleeping in abandoned buildings full of addicts, and in alleys, and on freezing cold location shoots, and in more cars and fields than he could count during his pursuit of the Outsider, so anything resembling a bed was too glorious to be believed.) He didn’t wake until a flight attendant nudged him to tell him they were about to begin their final descent, but Marla was already conscious beside him, looking out the window and sipping orange juice.

  Bradley got his seat into its upright configuration, hurried to the bathroom before the pilot could demand they stay in their seats, and then dropped in beside Marla. He leaned across her and looked down at the sprawling city by the bay, split by the curve of the river. “That’s Felport all right. Looks almost pretty from up here, the light shining on the water.”

  “Makes my heart ache in my chest. Damn. I didn’t expect that.” Marla sighed. “You ready to make some moves? Bust Rondeau and Pelly out of wherever they’re held, assuming they didn’t bust themselves out yet? Kick Nicolette out of office and put someone better in her place?”

  “I’ll do whatever you need me to... as long as I think it’s a good idea.”

  “Apprentices are so disobedient nowadays.”

  “You know, your goddesshood, I think I outrank you in terms of mystical celestial might.”

  She snorted. “The Over-Bradley does, maybe, but you’re just the middle toe on his right foot or something. A skin cell that got ideas above its station.”

  “I’ve always had aspirations beyond my abilities.”

  “Yeah. Don’t we all.”

  They sat silently as the plane began to descend, until Bradley said, “Do you think they’re expecting us?”

  “Nicolette might have people watching the airports and roads, though I wouldn’t count on it. She’s never had to organize anything more complicated than a birthday party. Any surveillance she does try to put on us, we’ll breeze right past. We’ll jump out at her in our own time, in our own way, after I gather some intel.”

  The plane landed, and they were the first ones off, Marla carrying her shoulder bag, and Bradley a backpack slung over his shoulder holding a change of clothes. They stepped into the gate area... and a tall, slender black woman with a profusion of white dreads, wearing yoga pants and a flowing white shirt and lots of bead-and-crystal necklaces, approached them with a smile. She was followed by a small serious-looking middle-aged man in a derby hat. “Marla!” the woman said. “So glad you could make it.”

  Marla frowned. “Perren?”

  The woman nodded, smiling, and turned to Bradley. “And this is Bradley Bowman? I’m Perren River, big fan of your work, both the films and the magic.”

  “Uh,” Bradley said. “Nice to. Uh.”

  “You remember Mr. Beadle, Marla?”

  The small man nodded at her. “Ma’am.”

  Marla frowned. “Wait. Nicolette sent you?”

  “To meet you, yeah, and take you to you hotel. She figured you’d want to freshen up before she met with you.”

  “Mr. Beadle works for Nicolette now? I thought you two were mortal enemies.”

  “That’s right,” Bradley said. “You’re an order mage, aren’t you?”

  “Yessir. Nicolette and I were more opposed philosophically than personally, but.” He shrugged. “That’s all worked out now. May I take your bags?”

  Marla shook her head. “No. I have weapons in my bag, and I might need them in case Nicolette tries to mind-control me like she did you two.”

  Perren shook her head, long dreads shaking. “If she were controlling our minds, we would’ve had an easier time with the transition. Come on. We’ll tell you about it. There’s a limo waiting.”

  “Look, thanks for the offer, but we’ll make our own way wherever we’re going.”

  Perren shrugged. “Suit yourself. What should I tell Pelham and Rondeau?”

  Marla shifted her weight, and Bradley wondered if she was preparing for a fight, or easing back from her readiness for one. “What do you mean?”

  Mr. Beadle gestured vaguely back through the terminal. “They’re waiting in the car.”

  “Are they prisoners?”

  “I won’t lie to you,” Perren said. “They certainly were, for a while there, though they were treated well. But now they’re free. They wanted to see you, so we gave them a ride.”

  “Why would Nicolette just let them go?” Bradley asked.

  “They were taken as leverage to make you come to Felport,” Perren said. “And... you came to Felport. As soon as Nicolette got word you were en route, she ordered their release.”

  “What’s to stop me from grabbing them and getting on a plane and flying out of here without bothering to see Nicolette at all?” Marla asked.

  Perren smiled. “Nothing, except everything everyone who’s ever met you knows about how your mind works.”

  Marla didn’t smile, but her lips twitched, and that was remarkably close – Bradley didn’t think anyone who was less perceptive than he was would have noticed. “You know, that’s almost enough to trigger my natural contrariness and make me leave anyway. But you’re right. I do want to see Nicolette. And then hit her with things. And then send her back to Hell.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first epic clash in the halls of power we’ve had in the past month, mum,” Mr. Beadle said. “I’ve been quite content with my own moderate level of power, lately. It’s safer not to be too big a target.”

  “Shall we?” Perren said.

  “Fuck it,” Marla said. “Let’s shall.”

  Rondeau in a Limo

  “See, this is proper style.” Rondeau sorted through the little built-in liquor cabinet in the back of the limo, pulling out stoppers from plain glass bottles and sniffing to identify port, brandy, single-malt scotch, and some kind of blackberry-infused vodka.

  “I can’t help thinking it must be some kind of a trick,” Pelham said. “Nicolette... the things she’s capable of... Why would she just let us go?”

  “She’s a chaos witch, Pelly. If she were predictable, she’d be... some other kind of witch.” Rondeau looked around for glasses but couldn’t find them. Probably hidden in some secret compartment. Drinking straight from the scotch decanter seemed gauche, but then again, the alcohol content was sufficiently high to kill any germs he left on the rim, so why not? He took a swig. Mmm, what a wonderful burn. And it would quiet his psychic powers, which were pretty freaked out every time he looked at Pelham. There were ghostly chains wrapped around the man’s head, translucent links visible only to Rondeau and presumably any other poor bastards who could perceive things on the magical spectrum. “Want a jolt?”

  “No. My faculties are reduced enough by this spell Nicolette has cast on me.”

  “So you can’t even give me a hint about what you saw in the Chamberlain’s magic mirror?” Rondeau said. “Maybe act it out charades-style? Nothing?”

  Pelham opened his mouth, winced, frowned, and then said, very slowly and deliberately, “I can say only that it does not pose an immediate threat to us, or to Mrs. Mason. And that it involves –” His teeth snapped shut, and he hissed, then fished a handkerchief from his pocket and put it to his mouth for a moment. When Pelham took the cloth away, Rondeau saw a speck of blood on his lip. “No, not even that much. Nicolette’s spell makes me literally bite my tongue if I even come close to the secret. She told me she doesn’t want me to spoil the surprise.”

  Rondeau nodded. Pelham had been dragged back to their room after his visit to the Chamberlain by Squat and a couple of homunculus orderlies, under heavy sedation, not just asleep but practically comatose. When Rondeau begged to know what was going on, Squat would only say that Pelham
gotten up to some unauthorized magic with the Chamberlain. “We heard glass break in her room, and when I rushed in, thinking they’d try to stab me with shards of mirror or something... I realized they were up to something else, and the doc handed me a couple of hypodermics to settle them down. We’ll see what Nicolette wants to do with you.” Squat shook his head. “You gotta give the little guy props for courage, though I don’t know what they were trying to accomplish exactly. If Nicolette’s too furious, I’ll try to calm her down. I really would hate to have to eat you guys.”

  “Is Nicolette really a better boss than Marla?” Rondeau said. “I mean – do you still think you made the right choice, jumping ship on us?”

  “Nicolette sucks,” Squat replied. “But at least she doesn’t pretend she gives a shit about me. Unlike Marla.” He stumped away.

  This morning, Rondeau was awakened by Nicolette herself, nudging him in gut with one meaty finger. He’d blinked at her for a few seconds and then said, “Your shoulders are broader than I remember.”

  “You like?” Nicolette struck a bodybuilder’s pose, her white skin-tight t-shirt straining against bulging musculature. “I wasn’t sure about using a dude’s body, but this one’s pretty strong, and it’s got some other amusing qualities. I’ve got a couple of chick bodies put aside I can use, too, when I feel like going that way instead.”

  “The meathead thing doesn’t really go with your bone structure.” Rondeau sat up on the bunk. “You’re too delicate. It’s like, I don’t know, a bird’s head on a rhinoceros.”

  “You say the sweetest things. But tell me the truth. You kind of want to fuck me in this body, don’t you?” She turned around, wiggling her ass at him.

  “I like the slim-hipped pretty boys more, to be honest,” he said.

  “No accounting for taste. Come on, you’re getting set free today. After I put a gag order on your boy there.”

  Rondeau slid off the top bunk to the floor and eyed Nicolette warily. What did she mean, a gag order? If she tried to cut out Pelham’s tongue or something....

  Pelham was still asleep on the bottom bunk, though at least he was snoring a little – his earlier drugged-out stillness had been unsettling. Nicolette leaned over him, a silver necklace in her hand, and did a little muttering incantation while twisting the chain between her fingers. That’s when the ghostly links wrapped themselves around Pelham’s head. He groaned and blinked his eyes.

  “What’d you just do?” Rondeau said.

  “I’ve got a surprise for Marla, and I think your boy Pelham stumbled onto it, looking at things he wasn’t supposed to look at, peeking in on my private business. Can’t have him spoiling the big reveal.” She reached out and patted Pelham’s head, making him blink and groan more.

  “Wait,” Rondeau said. “We’re going to see Marla?”

  “Her plane lands shortly. I’m sending you to meet her.” Nicolette rose and turned to face Rondeau. He wasn’t used to her looking down at him, but in her new body, she was about six-foot-four.

  He fought the urge to take a step backward. “Then, uh, I guess we’ll be facing you soon on the field of battle? Or whatever?”

  Nicolette shook her head. “There won’t be any battle. Which, in a way, is disappointing, except I know Marla will be more disappointed, because she doesn’t know how to deal with anything unless she’s beating on it with a lead pipe. Frustrating her... you know, it’s funny. I used to think making her miserable was the most important thing in the world. And I still care about doing that, but it’s more like... a tasty dessert after a meal that was already totally satisfying. You don’t need dessert – it’s just nice.”

  “So what’s the main course?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know? I’ll leave you to get dressed alone. I don’t need to see that bare bony ass of yours. Not when I’ve got this sweet one all to myself.” She slapped her own ass with both hands, winked, and left the room, not even bothering to shut their cell door behind her.

  “Rondeau?” Pelham said, sitting up and rubbing his face. “What’s happening?”

  “You got the whammy put on you,” Rondeau said. “But now we’re going to see Marla. Apparently.”

  And here they were, waiting in the back of the limo. Maybe it was all a trick, Nicolette just fucking with them one more time, but she usually wasn’t that subtle. Her idea of a good joke was filling your bed with snakes or setting your car on fire, not pretending you were going to see your friend. Even so, he wasn’t going to be entirely comfortable until –

  The door opened, and Marla slid in. “Move over, Rondeau, I’ve been in an airplane seat all night, I need space.”

  Then Bradley Bowman got in too, sitting across from Rondeau and Marla, next to Pelham. “Ignore her, we flew first class. Our seats were bigger than this whole car.”

  “Commercial air travel takes an existential toll, regardless of where you’re seated.” Marla looked Rondeau up and down. “Stop gaping. Yes, that’s B. Not exactly our B, obviously, but the closest possible equivalent.”

  Bradley gave him a little wave. “Yeah, I come from the universe next door, where you didn’t steal my body – you took Danny Two-Saints’s body instead.”

  “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” Rondeau mumbled, flushed with shame all over again at the way he’d stolen Bradley’s body. He hadn’t meant to, but that didn’t change the reality. “Wow. Uh. Things must be a lot different over there, where you’re from.”

  “Oh, yeah. Marla never got ousted from her job as chief sorcerer of Felport, for one thing. From one little change –”

  “Right, sure, for want of a nail the kingdom was whatever,” Marla interrupted.

  Rondeau couldn’t help but smile. “Good to see you again, boss. Thanks for coming to get us.”

  She reached out and patted him on the knee, a little too hard. “You are a couple of colossal fuck-ups, but you’re my colossal fuck-ups.” She looked at Pelham. “You couldn’t keep a better eye on him?”

  “I must admit that many of the mistakes were my own, Mrs. Mason.”

  “Damn. Can’t leave you two alone for a month without the world almost ending.”

  Perren River got into the limo, sitting beside Marla, looking at Bradley with great interest. “Did you say you’re from a parallel universe?”

  “I did not,” Bradley said. “Those words did not pass my lips.”

  “Shut up a minute, Perrin,” Marla said. “Bradley, do a diagnostic on everybody, okay?”

  Bradley squinted at Rondeau, shook his head, turned his gaze to Perren, shook it again, then looked at Pelham and whistled. “There’s some kind of binding magic on Pelham.”

  “Yes,” Pelly said glumly. “I regret that I am not able to fully serve you, Mrs. Mason. Nicolette has placed limitations upon me.”

  “Magical gag order,” Rondeau said. “Pelham got a glimpse through a magic mirror and saw some big secret Nicolette has, and she doesn’t want you to know about it.”

  “More precisely, she wants to reveal it to you herself,” Pelham said. “I suppose so she can have the pleasure of seeing you become very upset in person.”

  “Well that’s a burning bag of crap,” Marla said. “I hate surprises, especially Nicolette’s.” The limo started up and pulled out. “Where’s Mr. Beadle?” she said.

  “Up front driving,” Perren said. “With you in the car, Nicolette didn’t trust sending a lackey to drive.”

  “A member of the council for my chauffeur. Looks like I’m a VIP.” Marla leaned back, lacing her hands over her belly, and looked at Perren through half-closed eyes. “I had my eye on you back when you ran the Honeyed Knots. You were the only addition to the council I really approved of. Maybe that was a mistake. I thought you had spine, but you just rolled over for Nicolette, huh?”

  Perren sighed. “The council changed a lot after the Mason’s Massacre.”

  Marla winced. “You said that like it’s a proper name. Everyone calls it that?”

  “Some call i
t Marla’s Massacre.” Perren’s voice was bland and entirely non-judgmental. “I never thought that was fair. The Mason was your double from another universe, but that doesn’t make her you. Anyway, after she killed half the leading sorcerers in the city, and you were exiled, we had to rebuild things from the ground up, divide up the city again, all under the Chamberlain’s direction.”

  Marla looked like she wanted to spit, and Rondeau thought only the fact that she was in a limousine stopped her from doing so. “I never liked her. Thought she’d be a terrible leader.”

  “Oh, she was,” Perren said. “Diplomatic, always polite, but if someone disagreed with her, she just... ignored them. Her own powers were so substantial, she didn’t feel the need to build coalitions, not even to the extent you did. Hamil tried to be a moderating influence on the council, but...” Perren shrugged. “Who did he have to work with? Mr. Beadle is good at infrastructure, he keeps the garbage collection and mail delivery and everything humming, but politics is too disorderly for his tastes. Langford doesn’t care about anything but his experiments, and since he took over running the Blackwing Institute, that’s kept him occupied – he doesn’t even come to meetings anymore. The Bay Witch keeps things working in the water and around the ports, but again, she couldn’t give less of a crap about the city as a whole. Hamil and I tried to do what we could, but...” She shrugged. “The Chamberlain doesn’t pay attention to anything that happens south of the river, except maybe the financial district a little bit.”

  Rondeau whistled. North of the river was, basically, the rich part of town, the big houses, the old families, the golf courses and country clubs. South of the river was... everything else. The Chamberlain had always been the voice of the wealthy in Felport, and the keeper of the ghosts of the founding families, who provided Felport with a reservoir of magical power that could be used to protect the city. The fact that taking over the city as a whole hadn’t made the Chamberlain care about the other 99% of the city’s citizens was troubling but not shocking.