Masque (The Two Monarchies Sequence)

by W. R. Gingell

  “He asked me to marry him last week,” I told her, quite truthfully. I didn’t feel it necessary to inform her that I had replied in the negative. “I am not unprotected.”

  Chi gazed at me long and thoughtfully. “I can’t tell if you’re lying or not, but I do know you’re stalling. I would have liked to have someone like you on our side, lady.”

  Claude was looking at the inner door, somewhere over my shoulder and out of sight. “She heard a footstep. So did I.”

  “Go have a look,” Chi told him, without taking her eyes off me. “I’ll stay with the lady.”

  We waited in silence, Chi leaning gracefully against the wall despite the dirt. I spent a little time regarding the toe of my shoe. It was regrettably soiled, and very possibly ruined. That would teach me not to meddle in treasonable affairs: they seemed to be dirty in more ways than one. I wondered briefly if Vadim was getting restless, but the thought was not helpful and I dismissed it: there was no use dwelling on things that could not be changed.

  Into the silence fell quiet, shuffling noises from the next room; then, abruptly, sounds of a violent scuffle.

  Chi’s fingers closed around a wooden chair top. The scuffle was followed just as suddenly by an ominous silence, then there was a gentle pattering on the door as if someone had drummed their fingers lightly against it.

  Chi said sharply: “Claude! Did you take care of it?”

  Silence.

  “Claude, come out at once! I am in no mood for your sick fancies!”

  One scarlet fingernail tapped the top of the chair; ceased. Chi took an impatient, uncertain step toward the door.

  “Don’t go in there,” I warned her, bracing my hands almost unconsciously against my bonds. I thought I might know what had happened in the room, and my feeling of danger had intensified tenfold. “It’s not safe.”

  “It’s only Claude and his twisted little tricks,” she said impatiently, but I saw the shade of fear in her dark eyes. She was not altogether convinced. She flounced past me with an exaggerated stride, trying to regain her confidence, and I heard the door fling open behind me.

  Perhaps she gasped; I wasn’t quite sure. But the door slammed shut again almost immediately, and there was that ominous stillness again before the pattering began, as if early spring rain were falling on the door.

  The door opened with gentle snick of door lock against jamb, and I resolutely fixed my gaze straight ahead, fingers curling around the chair arms.

  A voice spoke behind me, startlingly close. “Lady Farrah.”

  His voice was an unfamiliar tenor tone, with a light, lilting touch to it that sounded as if it could rise to the pitch of madness without much provocation. I heard him draw in a deep breath, very close behind me now, and came to the disturbing conclusion that he was smelling my hair.

  “I believe you have the advantage of me,” I said quietly. Movement teased my periphery, but I looked steadfastly ahead, refusing to turn my head.

  “Don’t you want to know who I am?”

  Petulance. I said, hardly daring to breathe: “That would ruin the suspense.”

  He laughed. “I knew I liked you! Why did they tie you up?”

  “They didn’t want me to run away.”

  Even a child of ten years would have protested that I hadn’t given a proper answer, but he didn’t. The cold feeling in my stomach spread in an icy rush to my outer extremities: I was at the mercy of a man whose homicidal mania was governed by a childlike whimsy.

  The movement in my peripheral vision died away as he moved behind me again. “Did you know them?”

  “Barely.” I had the distinct impression that this man would know if I lied to him, and so I told the exact truth. “A countryman of mine was killed a short while ago, and we had reason to believe that it was in connection with a leak in our covert affairs. Those two were encouraging me not to follow up the investigation.”

  “Oh.” It sounded as though he was thinking. At length, he said: “I didn’t kill him for that. You’re playing with me, aren’t you? You know it was me.”

  “As soon as I heard Claude die,” I said, nodding. “But I don’t know why you did it.”

  He chuckled mischievously. “I’m not going to tell you. You have to figure it out for yourself.”

  “How delightful!” I managed to say. My throat was becoming steadily drier, but I didn’t dare so much as lick my lips to moisten them. I knew instinctively that he would take it for a sign of weakness.

  “Who’s that at the door?” There was a sudden scuffle of dust as he spun sharply to face the door. “Someone’s coming. A little girl.”

  I closed my eyes. Vadim.

  “It’s my maid,” I said. “I would prefer if you did not kill her.”

  He huffed out a breath of discontent. “It would be so easy. One little pinch; then splat! You couldn’t stop me, you know.”

  “I know.” The balmy breeze had brought a prickle of sweat to my hairline, and the air seemed suddenly too thick to breathe. “We are at your mercy, Vadim and I. You can let her live.”

  He sounded thoughtful. “I could, if I wanted to. I wonder if I want to?”

  I drew in another breath of warm air and repeated: “I would prefer if you did not kill her.”

  He didn’t reply but I was aware that he was suddenly very close, and in an instinct of pure self-preservation I closed my eyes, gripping tight to the arms of my chair. A light kiss was pressed on my lips, then there was a gust of air behind me, setting dust bunnies tumbling, and speaking of sudden aloneness.

  It lasted only for a moment, then Vadim was tumbling into the room, breathless and distressed.

  “Lady! Oh lady, he didn’t kill you!” She threw her arms around my neck, all but choking me, and the chair creaked dangerously.

  “Vadim, I am flattered, but I will not have my hair rumpled!” I told her tartly. I did not care to have her see the sweat dotting my brow, or the paleness to my cheeks.

  Vadim pulled back apologetically, but her hands twisted themselves into the fabric of her new dress as she stood before me, and I smiled faintly.

  “Well, Vadim? What is it?”

  “Lord Pecus, m’lady.” The fingers tightened until I was half afraid that the material would rip. “He must have felt the first one die, same as me. He’s not far off now.”

  A jolt of energy shot up my spine.

  “Untie me! Quickly now!” Her fingers pulled a little jerkily at the ropes, and I sat still to allow her to work, frowning in thought. “Are you able to hide any traces of our being here?”

  “You won’t leave a magic trace,” Vadim said, tugging determinedly at a knot. She was rather pale, and I felt a stab of guilt at having pulled her into this dangerous shambles. “I can hide mine.”

  “Lord Pecus has other methods of investigations,” I said curtly, glad that I had been present to see it in person. “Any hairs, any dress fibres: they have to be gone, Vadim.”

  “Yes, lady. No one will know you’ve been here.”

  I freed my wrists with a jerk, singeing a light burn across one of them, just as shouts began to ring out below stairs. Apparently not all of the Pig’s Squeal’s patrons were entirely easy in their consciences as pertaining to the Watch.

  I locked and barred the door, and told Vadim: “I’m afraid it will have to be the window.”

  There were heavy footsteps on the stairs, running steps, and I ran to the window in quick, cold haste. “Vadim, is it done?”

  “It’s done, it’s done!” Vadim panted, hurrying across the room. I lifted her out and she found her feet on the ledge outside, clinging to the window frame for a moment. “We can reach the ground, lady. It’s a small drop.”

  “I should like to mention,” I said, climbing out with less than my usual dignity and a heady amusement that was no doubt a lingering effect of the hash; “That I find this situation unrefined in the extreme! I’m ashamed of you, Vadim; you’ve led me into dangerous company.”

  Vadim gave a panting
giggle. “Yes, lady. Sorry, lady. You’re showing your stockings, lady.”

  I emitted a strangled giggle of my own. “We will not mention the matter again, Vadim. Now, jump!”

  I believe I heard the door splinter open as we jumped. It was a longer distance that I had imagined it to be, and the jolt of landing sent shocks of pain up my shins, but I didn’t dare hesitate to check for injuries. We limped around the corner in haste, and I heard Lord Pecus’ voice snarl: “To the window!”

  “Nearest teashop, Vadim!” I gasped, propelling her around another corner. I did not put it past Lord Pecus to send someone after us while he attended the crime scene. I had an uneasy feeling that he had seen the flurry of our gowns as we leapt. “Am I untidy?”

  “There’s dirt on the border of your skirt,” Vadim said briefly, darting a cautious look around a corner. “This way, lady: only two blocks. I’ve fixed the dirt.”

  “Very well,” I said, following at a brisk walk. “No, walk now, Vadim. We must not appear flustered. If we are caught up, we are simply strolling to tea.”

  We retired to the powder room of the nearest teashop to tidy ourselves. Vadim, ever thoughtful, had traced a new colour into my gown to confuse any would-be questioners; and I was pleased to discover that although there was a dash of colour to my cheeks, it was merely a becoming one, and not a flustered one. I sent Vadim out to secure us a table while I delicately swabbed away the tiny beads of sweat from my brow and powdered lightly. I found myself smiling, and reflected that it was no use deceiving oneself: I had always enjoyed a good game of cat and mouse. Killer or no killer, it was certain that I would not do differently if another occasion arose. Besides, I had gained valuable insights: Lord Pecus might hold the Earl of Horn in highest suspicion, but although he could have been the man behind me, I very much doubted it. The earl was nothing if not sane. Dangerous, yes; but perfectly sane in his methods.

  Besides, if this madman was to be believed, Raoul had not been killed because of treasonous documents. I was quite sure that besides his wife and daughter, the earl would not care enough about anything to kill for it.

  I replaced my powder box with a thoughtful frown, dusting the powder from my fingers, and turned from the mirror only to discover that the powder room window was swiftly being populated with horselords.

  Emmett climbed through, filling the window, and gazed about him in interest as the others followed, jostling him as they came.

  “It’s all a bit pink, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Move!” snapped Miryum, stabbing his ribs with an ungentle finger. Emmett jumped, looking more sheepish than a man of his size ought to look, and stood aside. Curran and Brennan followed close behind, Curran turning back to help Katrina, who didn’t need the help but accepted it quietly.

  Brennan looked around disparagingly, but said laconically: “I’ve seen worse.”

  “When?” demanded Curran. “Spend a lot of time in powder rooms, do you?”

  “A bit,” Brennan said equably, unshaken. “Laura meets me in the powder room.”

  “Which powder room?”

  Brennan shrugged. “Any powder room. Her father doesn’t like me.”

  “I’m not surprised, if you’re in the habit of frequenting ladies’ powder rooms!” I said tartly. “Is there a reason I’m being invaded by a regiment of horselords?”

  “The Commander is on his way,” said Emmett briefly, nodding toward the door. “He could be here already.”

  “He arrived but a moment or two after you left: someone must have told him about Katrina,” Miryum said. Her voice had a delicate undercurrent of anger to it. “We had to account for her whereabouts and I don’t appreciate the fact that one of my people had to be vouched for.”

  Emmett shrugged, and I gathered that it was a point of contention between them. “He was doing his job.”

  Unusual. Emmett and Miryum usually had one thought and one agreement between them.

  Curran, quick as ever to sense contention, said mockingly: “Mum, dad, don’t fight!”

  This had the effect of turning Miryum’s steely gaze away from Emmett to Curran, and I was at leisure to ask Emmett: “What happened?”

  “He must have planted a monitor on you. He was questioning Katrina when something fizzled. The Commander knocked over a table and took off running.”

  I remembered suddenly Lord Pecus patting my hand- absently, I had thought at the time. Not so absently, then. The beast!

  “That’s terribly interesting,” I remarked thoughtfully; “However, I should like to know exactly how Lord Pecus knew where I was. I’m no expert in the affairs of magic, but I was under the impression that a monitoring spell was only capable of monitoring.”

  “Katrina had to tell him about the café,” Curran told me. His voice was light, but if I were not mistaken, he was just as annoyed as Miryum. “Interestingly enough, he seemed to know that that was where he would find you. Sweet Isabella, this man knows you too well. We saw you dashing down the street and followed: he won’t be far behind.”

  “Well, he didn’t find me,” I said primly. “And I would like it to be clearly understood that I was never there. I have been enjoying a quiet day of shopping and have just stopped for tea.”

  “You haven’t got any bags,” said Brennan, with what I considered to be an entirely unnecessary interest.

  There was a brief silence before Miryum said: “Well, if even he noticed it, Lord Pecus certainly will.”

  I ignored Brennan’s protests of what do you mean if even I noticed it? and gazed narrowly around the room.

  “Turn out the cushions,” I told them, resolutely, heading for the powder room seats. “There is always an assortment of packaging in a powder room.”

  Curran nudged Brennan and said: “Should have known that, shouldn’t you?” but they both turned out cushions with the greatest good humour, and in a very few moments I was provided with an assortment of varied papers and string bags.

  “Cussons and Percy’s,” I said, pointing out the pale blue and bright red papers.

  Curran gathered the others, as if to throw them in the waste chute, but I stopped him with a wave.

  “Padding, my dear Curran; padding.” I held up one of the papers to demonstrate, and wrapped it around one of the balls of paper that had been too crumpled to be believable. I tied it with a tagend of string, and presented it to the group. “Well?”

  Curran looked at me in admiration. “You’re frighteningly criminal, Isabella.”

  “So I’ve been told.” I tied two more bundles; one long, the other fat and square, and stuffed them into one of the string bags. I dangled the string bag from my reticule arm, and held it out for inspection. “Will I pass muster, Brennan?”

  He grinned and assented.

  “Is there anything else I should know?”

  The horselords looked at each other.

  “He’ll be angry,” said Katrina. “Be careful, lady.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind,” I said, smiling. I found that I was a little nervous, and put up my chin. “I’m obliged to you all.”

  Curran shrugged cheerfully. “Oh, anything to annoy the Watch!”

  Miryum grinned in agreement, but only said: “Good luck, Isabella.”

  I left the horselords to disperse through the window once more, and re-entered the teashop. Vadim was standing stiffly by a table for two, while Lord Pecus, dwarfing the spindly table and chair alike, glowered at the tea counter.

  My poor Vadim! I made a mental note to buy her an especially nice present when this meeting was over, and sauntered over to the table, swinging my string bag jauntily. Lord Pecus saw me from halfway across the room, and regarded me with a scowl as I walked the last few yards toward them. He stood curtly but sat down again almost immediately, whether as a deliberate insult or because his mind was on other things, I was not sure.

  I smiled cordially at him and gave my string bag to Vadim to hold. Bless the child, she took it without a blink.

  “Lo
rd Pecus! What a pleasant surprise!”

  “I’d like to say I find it surprising,” said Lord Pecus disagreeably, declining to comment as to the pleasantness or otherwise, of the situation. “But I don’t. In fact, I’m beginning to expect to see you whenever I find trouble.”

  “You are surely not suggesting that I cause trouble!” I said, with dignity. “Vadim, is our tea ready? Perhaps you should order for two; I’m sure Lord Pecus is thirsty.”

  Lord Pecus’ porcelain lips opened, no doubt to repudiate the charge, but he changed his mind, and instead growled: “Tea and biscuits for me. Wait for your mistress outside.”

  Vadim put her chin in the air and didn’t move. Lord Pecus gazed at her in exasperation; and, at length, grinned.

  “I would like to speak with you privately, Lady Farrah. If you please.”

  I smiled approvingly at him. “Since you ask so nicely, my lord! Vadim, would you wait for us outside, please?”

  Vadim lowered her chin and said: “Yes, m’lady,” just to show how well she took orders from those she considered worthy, and left us alone.

  The tea arrived almost immediately after, so there was no awkward silence. I poured out for Lord Pecus and then sat back in horrified amazement as he dipped his biscuits into the teacup and gulped them down whole. There is a way to drink fine tea, and dipping biscuits in it is not that way.

  I sipped my own tea in an admonitory fashion but Lord Pecus did not seem to notice, because after he had gulped down a final biscuit, he said: “I was at a crime scene this evening.”

  “How distressing for you!” I said sympathetically. “Was it terribly gruesome?”

  “The odd thing about it,” continued Lord Pecus meditatively, licking his fingers without acknowledging my question; “Is that I could swear I saw a girl in a blue dress climbing out the window.”

  “How very odd!”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” Lord Pecus smiled at me affably. “I would hate to think that you were interfering in a Watch matter again, Lady Farrah.”

  I didn’t treat him to my wide-eyed look because I didn’t think he would believe it, and I felt that I would rather not share what I knew at this stage. Instead, I let my brow furrow ever so slightly, and said: “I find myself somewhat at a loss, my lord. You did say that this girl had on a blue gown, did you not?”