Amidst talk of court, Katya casually mentioned that she had a cousin who was just admitted to the Pyradisté Academy. Duchess Julietta was only too happy to produce her resident pyradisté, a portly man, talented but lazy, who was content to live in the country, collect wages from the duchess for the minimal work she assigned him, and pursue his one true passion: fishing.
Katya’s spirits dampened as she and the others began the ride back to Marienne. If the bearded man wasn’t in the country, he might be in the city. Starbride could be headed toward him at that very moment. They picked up the pace and collected the crossbowman on their way.
Chapter Twenty-six: Starbride
Starbride had pictured alleyways and dens of ill repute. When Dawnmother had lent her a heavy cloak with a hood, it seemed perfect for skulking. She’d never skulked in her life, but she’d been looking forward to it with a palpable thrill. Her disappointment proved keen, then, when she began her journey through Farraday’s pristine streets mounted and with her hood down, doing her best to keep up the spirits of a moody young girl.
“It’s a nice day. Not too chilly.” She gave Maia what she hoped was a warm smile.
Maia mumbled and continued staring ahead or glancing at the buildings around them. Her forehead bore the same pinched expression she’d had from the start.
Starbride cursed the fact that she wasn’t with Pennynail. He’d left them to spy on their target houses, leaving the businesses to them. He was probably skulking to his heart’s content. “So, where are we going again?”
“I already told you.” She sighed, an over-exaggerated sound. “The King’s Street counting house, the largest chapterhouse of knowledge, and the Daishun trading company.”
Starbride gritted her teeth. She felt sorry for Maia’s reopened wounds about Roland’s death, but as Katya always said, they had a job to do. Dawnmother never let her sulk for long, but Maia had no bond servant. “Well.” She kicked her horse forward. “I won’t keep you, since you obviously have other things to do. If you’ll just give me directions…”
“What?”
“Directions. Since you’re eager to be off? I’m sure I can handle a little spying.”
“You can’t do this without me.”
“Why not? If I see the bearded man, I’ll return to the palace. Isn’t that the plan?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then you have to be here why?”
Redness spread over Maia’s cheeks. “Look, I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”
“True.”
“Then you should listen to what I’m saying!”
“All right. What are you saying?”
“I’m…very good at my job!”
“We just crossed King’s Street. Didn’t you want to turn there?”
Maia started in her saddle. “You were distracting me!”
“You were distracting yourself.” Maia glared down at her pommel, her jaw tight. Starbride reached out to her shoulder. “Maia, I don’t want to make you feel worse, and I won’t claim to know what’s going on in your head, but we do have an assignment. And I do not want to mess it up. It’s my first, after all. You’re the veteran here. Please, say you’ll help me.”
Maia nodded. “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”
“It’s all right. Look, after this is over, why don’t we spend some time together? Apart from Katya and Dawnmother, I don’t have any real friends here, no one I can just talk to. Dawnmother can secure a bottle of wine.”
Maia smiled brighter than Starbride had seen for the entire trip. “I’d like that. I don’t have many friends, either. This job is…It’s a lot.”
“Then it’s settled. Let’s find our bearded man so we can have some fun.” As they turned up King’s Street, Starbride leaned close. “Who owns the houses Pennynail’s going to look at?”
“Chelius and Montenegro.”
“Lady Hilda!”
“The lady of cleavage herself.”
Starbride thought back to the disastrous dinner, the one that could have ended with her in some strange man’s bed. Spying on such a person’s household would be like getting her back, at least a little. She summed up the story for Maia’s benefit.
“Wow. Lucky you having Countess Nadia on your side. If Lady Hilda’s harboring the bearded man, her goose is cooked.”
“I’m guessing that means she’s done as a noble?”
“Definitely.”
“Strange. A cooked goose is usually a good thing.”
“Unless you’re the goose.”
“Ah, now I understand.” Horsestrong’s many sayings were metaphorical in nature, but they didn’t seem as hard to puzzle out as these Farradain idioms.
“Your story makes me want to check out the Montenegro house ourselves, but we’re almost to the counting house,” Maia said. “Now I hope the bearded man is at Lady Hilda’s. Then we could just get rid of her!”
Starbride chuckled, glad to have another ally. At the King’s Street counting house, Maia pretended to be a rich lady, new to Marienne, and traveling with her Allusian friend. Starbride hung back and pretended to look around the enormous, columned lobby, all marble and granite. She peeked into the barred hallways where the actual counting and storing of coin took place. Did Lady Hilda’s two hundred thousand gold crowns rest in there somewhere?
Maia pretended to be overly worried over security and what “Mumsy” would say if anything should happen to “poor Da’s” money.
The counting house attendant placated and reassured, but Maia wouldn’t be satisfied until she met this extraordinary pyradisté he kept talking about. The attendant happily produced him. Starbride watched from near a pillar, as deep in the shadows as she could get and breathed a sigh of relief when the, “highly trained, powerful pyradisté,” was a small, clean-shaven, weasel of a man with lank brown hair and a complexion so pale it was almost gray, definitely not the large strong man who’d attempted to pyramid her in the woods.
Maia assured them that she would bring the money in the next few days. As they left, Starbride put a hand to her chest. “I didn’t realize how my heart was pounding until now.”
“Getting a taste for this?”
“I’m going to have to get better at schooling myself. If that pyradisté had been our man, I think I’d have leapt from behind the pillar and shouted, ‘Aha!’”
“If you get too tense, pinch your leg. That’s what I do. After a bit, you’ll be so annoyed with the pinching you’ll forget about fear.”
Starbride tried it at the large library at the front of the knowledge chapterhouse. She needed pinching to keep her from the acres of books. Larger even than the palace library, the chapterhouse contained scrolls in display cases and rare volumes in bookshelves fronted with glass. Two grand staircases led up behind a large oval reception desk, and rooms lining the balcony above hinted at locked-away treasures.
“Like books, do you?” Maia said with a mischievous grin. “You’re drooling.”
“Where has this place been all my life?”
“Under lock and key. The brothers and sisters of Matter and Marla only let other knowledge monks and those with appointments study here. And they have back rooms that only the monks can enter. I’ve heard that you have to wear gloves just to touch the books.” She pulled on Starbride’s arm before they reached the desk. “Why don’t you play this one?”
“What do you mean?”
“Tell them you’ve a rare book you want to donate, and you want to make sure it’s kept safe. Say you want to see their security measures, and when they refuse, say you’ll need to at least meet the person who put those measures in place.”
“But…but if our man is here and he sees me…”
“From what I’ve heard, he knows what we all look like, Starbride. We took a chance in the counting house because I didn’t know how else to play it, but if you’d like, we’ll stand off to the side while they fetch their pyradisté. If he’s our man, we’ll run for it or try
to hide.”
Starbride glanced around. There were quite a few places to duck out of the way. She nodded before her brain could argue. “Let’s do it.”
“Right.” Maia took her arm and walked to the reception desk. She stopped in front of a blue-robed clerk who glanced up as they approached.
“Can I help you?” He tapped a book on his desk as if reminding them he had other things to do.
“Good day,” Starbride said after Maia squeezed her arm. “My name is…Jewelnoble, and I’ve come to donate a book.”
He brightened moderately. “A donation?”
Starbride rushed ahead with another quick idea. “It’s an early copy of Skystalwart’s journal.”
The clerk stood slowly, his young face paling. “You have an early copy of the journal of the most infamous Allusian in history?”
Part of her expected him not to know what she was talking about, but she supposed that monks who sought enlightenment through books would know even the classics of Allusia. “Copied from his original journal months after his death and handed from family to family until it found its way into mine.”
“Its condition?”
“A little battered,” she said. He winced. “A tad weathered.” He put a hand to his mouth. Starbride put on a remorseful look. “We don’t wish its condition to worsen.”
“Of course, of course.” He shuffled some papers on his desk. “Do you have it with you now, or…?”
Starbride leaned on the desk, warming to the game. “I have to impress upon you, sir, the importance of this book to my family. We want it kept here in Farraday, in this chapterhouse, so far from our country, for its own safety.”
“Oh, if more people thought like you, we could save so many texts, but people hoard them, you see, afraid for the books’ safety, but we can care for them so much better than the average person!”
Starbride almost took his hand, but that might be going too far. “I need some assurances.”
“I’ve told her that your security is the best,” Maia said in a drawl that echoed Katya. “But she would come and see for herself.”
“What measures have you taken to safeguard your treasures?” Starbride asked.
“The best. We don’t rely on our guards and glass cases. We protect the building with pyramids fashioned by the best pyradisté of his class.”
“What sorts of pyramids?”
The clerk waggled a finger at her. “Are you testing me? If I gave that away to anyone who asked, people could find a way around our precautions.”
Starbride stiffened and tried to look as affronted as possible. “That is not good enough.” She half turned as if she might storm away.
The clerk babbled. Maia caught Starbride’s arm. “Spirits above, Jewelnoble, you are forever reactionary. Look here, good monk, if you won’t tell us about the pyramids, can we at least meet the man who made them? Would that suffice, Jewelnoble?”
Starbride tilted her head back and forth. “I suppose.”
“I can arrange that. Let me go see if he’s available.” He hurried up the stairs.
Starbride towed Maia across the room. “We’re lucky it’s so dark in here.”
“I suppose it’s good for the books.”
Starbride peeked at the scrolls inside the cases and wished she had time to study them. If she did come back, she’d have to do it in disguise and go to one of the other clerks for help. One other monk manned the desk, but he appeared engrossed in his work. He hadn’t even glanced up during their entire exchange.
“Someone’s coming,” Maia said. “Get ready to duck.”
Starbride gripped her arm as the clerk marched back down the staircase with another man behind him. Tall and powerfully built but gray-haired and wrinkled, this pyradisté was far older than their bearded man. Maia and Starbride moved forward to finish their ruse. They found out that this pyradisté had proudly come to work for the knowledge chapterhouse as he had a love for books himself.
In good time, they made their excuses and promised to return in a few days, just as they had at the counting house. As they rode toward the trading company, Maia asked, “Who was Skystalwart, anyway?”
“An Allusian who twisted the servants’ code. He saw his master heading down the path of corruption, and instead of following, he decided to save his master, his master’s family, and all the servants from themselves. He killed seven people in all, four of them children, two his own.” She shivered in the bright sun. “The last entry in his journal admitted why he did it, and he gave himself up right after he wrote it.”
“What happened to him?”
“They tied each of his limbs to a different horse, and—”
“That’s enough. I don’t need to know the rest.”
“Old copies of his journals are rare. At one point, several servant caste families revolted and treated him like a hero, even though he always said his actions were for the good of the family he served. For a time, his journal was banned, and old copies were destroyed. Now he’s a cautionary tale.”
“Quite the bait for our hook.”
“Indeed. You take the next one. My knees are still shaking.”
They had no more luck at the trading company, and they played much the same routine as at the counting house. Traveling nobles, lots of cash, worried for the safety of their valuables, etc. etc. Starbride was happier standing back in the noisy, dirty warehouse and letting Maia take the lead, but she could see how a person could get accustomed to such playacting. Lying was easier than she thought it would be. She had to admit it was also more fun, but she wouldn’t want to do it all the time. Easy to see, then, why Katya wanted to get away from it once in a while, to just be herself and not act the part of the languid princess.
The thought that she was one of the few people who really knew what being the Princess of Farraday entailed pleased Starbride to the bone. In a world of sycophantic copies, she was almost unique. She shook her head to bring her back to task as Maia was introduced to the trading company’s pyradisté. Once again, no luck.
In a stable yard at the back of a high-priced inn, they met Pennynail. He sat on a barrel and rolled a knife over his gloved fingers. He pointed to the sky when he saw them.
“I know we’re late,” Maia said. “We had three places to do, and you only had two.”
“You’ve already spied on the noble houses?” Starbride asked. He nodded.
“We’ve had no luck,” Maia said. “How about you?”
He held up one finger and then pointed at Starbride and the eyeholes of the mask.
“One person you want me to see?” Starbride asked. “Which house?” In her head, she dared him to pantomime Chelius or Montenegro.
Pennynail sheathed his small knife, put both hands palm up at chest level, and cupped them as if he were holding two large balls. Starbride burst out laughing. “That woman is defined by her figure!”
Pennynail saluted. “So,” Maia said, “the Montenegro pyradisté might be our man. What a surprise. You peeked in windows until you spied him?” Pennynail nodded. Maia tapped her chin with one finger, reminding Starbride of Katya again. “How do we get Starbride in to see him, then? Without him seeing her, I mean.”
“Skulking!” Starbride clenched her hands. They both turned to stare at her, and she blushed. “I’ve, um, always wanted to…sneak. You know, surreptitious spying just seems…”
Pennynail put a hand to his mask’s mouth and turned away as if embarrassed for her.
“Well,” Starbride said, “it’s the best way, isn’t it?”
Lying belly-down in Lady Hilda’s back garden, Starbride rethought her position on skulking. It was dirty and hot and took hours of patient waiting while not speaking or moving much, not that her companion would have spoken anyway. Pennynail lay beside her, his stare not wandering from the large picture window in front of them. He wasn’t able to tell her, but she guessed this must be where he’d spotted the pyradisté. The room stood empty, and they could see inside because it sa
t in the shade, and even though the sun was high, the room had been lit with several lamps sitting along a table piled high with books.
Starbride wished she had a book. Anything would be better than the empty-handed waiting. Pennynail had insisted she keep her cloak on. He’d pointed to her red outfit and then put a hand to his eyes as if the color blinded him. It was cooler under the bushes than it would have been in the sun, but out of the breeze, the heavy cloak began to stifle. It had already hampered her climb over the wall. Pennynail practically had to hoist her up and then toss her over.
Starbride told herself to stop complaining. She wasn’t in immediate danger, and now she was qualified to write a treatise on how odious skulking was. Stretching as much as she could, she rested her chin on her arms and glanced at Pennynail. He turned her head back to the window again.
She wanted to yell, “But there’s no one there!” Maybe he didn’t like people staring at him. But how could someone who wore a mask not like people staring at him? The mask’s rosy cheeks, empty eyeholes, and ear-to-ear grin invited stares, even more so with the dirt he’d smeared on it to help him hide. Encased in leather, his identity remained a mystery. Such a person was invented to be stared at.
Maybe there was a flaw in his costume. Maybe if she looked hard, she could figure out who he was. If she knew him without the mask, she could pick out a detail that would reveal his identity. She tried to look without turning her head. He poked her in the shoulder, and she snapped her gaze back to the window.
Lady Hilda glided into the room in front of them. Starbride held her breath. She didn’t expect Lady Hilda to be in the house at all, but why keep the house if she never used it? A tall man in a pyradisté’s cassock followed her inside, and Starbride squinted, straining to see him in the dim light. Lady Hilda gestured as she spoke, but they couldn’t hear her, and he stayed toward the back of the room. Starbride pushed forward a little, and Pennynail grabbed her arm. She froze. Moving would attract too much attention, and Lady Hilda wouldn’t have the trouble seeing them as they did seeing her or her pyradisté.
The Pyramid Waltz Page 27
