by Jordan Rivet
After her family disappeared in a cloud of road dust, Mica walked down to the expensive inn on the main square where the nobles from the ceremony had been staying. True to his word, Master Kiev had arranged for her to ride to the Silver Palace with them, a three-day journey for anyone who wasn’t a Blur. The inn was the fanciest one in Redbridge, owned by Tiber Warson’s mother. Tiber had departed yesterday, presumably for Obsidian. Though Master Kiev had reassured her about the importance of her mission, Mica couldn’t shake the feeling that Tiber was off winning glory without her.
It’s not about that, she reminded herself firmly. It was never supposed to be about that.
A trio of enclosed carriages waited in front of the inn, the horses stamping impatiently. They were scheduled to depart at dawn, but the nobles had not yet emerged. Mica waited beside the carriages as the sun rose over the dome. She had a small pack of belongings on her back, and she wore her own face. It was customary for Impersonators, even those who habitually enhanced their looks, to greet their employers in their natural state. She had on a sturdy brown skirt that was specially designed to turn into a cloak with a few quick adjustments. She wore trousers underneath and a loose white shirt suitable for a man or a woman. The nondescript clothes were typical for an Impersonator. They needed to wear outfits that could be adjusted as easily as their faces.
Activity began to pick up around town. Redbridge was busier than usual as the members of the Academy’s latest graduating cohort headed off to their new lives, but there was still no sign of Mica’s traveling companions. She paced back and forth in front of the inn, wondering if she should go inside and try banging on Lord Ober’s door.
“Mica! You’re still here!”
Mica turned to find Sapphire jogging toward her across the green. She looked bleary-eyed, as if she had slept poorly. She threw her arms around Mica’s neck, the too-tight hug betraying her worries.
“Danil still hasn’t turned up?”
Sapphire shook her head, and Mica winced at the fragility in her friend’s expression.
“I’m sure he’ll contact you as soon as he can.”
Sapphire pulled at a tangle in her hair. “I wish you were going to Obsidian in case he got taken there. You could keep an eye out for him.”
“Danil will be okay,” Mica said. “Don’t fall apart, or at least make it look like you’re not.”
Sapphire smiled through a film of tears. They used to say that to each other before tests. Don’t fall apart, or at least make it look like you’re not. The reminder brought home the fact that they were parting ways here. Saying goodbye didn’t feel right without the third member of their trio. None of this was turning out quite how Mica had imagined.
She knew Sapphire had even greater cause to fear for Danil’s safety. She was missing not just a friend, but someone with whom she’d hoped to share a future. That future had now been cast into uncertainty. The least Mica could do was put on a brave face for her friend.
“Send word when you hear from him,” she said cheerily. “When, not if. And write me to let me know how you’re doing. You’ll be rich enough to pay for a Blur messenger!”
Sapphire had been assigned to a wealthy trading outfit on Winnow Island. She would be paid handsomely to travel around the empire in various guises to make sure its investments were in good condition.
“Have fun in the palace,” Sapphire said. “Don’t let that princess push you around.”
Mica laughed. “I have four older brothers. I can stand up to one little princess.”
Sapphire cracked a real smile at last. “Oh, Mica, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
Just then, the five nobles emerged from the inn in a jumble of sleepy expressions and bright clothes, already snapping orders. Mica hugged her friend one last time and hurried to the carriages. The first was reserved for the nobles, while the other two were for their baggage and servants. Mica would ride in the third one, with the baggage.
No sooner had she settled amongst the trunks and parcels than Lord Riven and Lady Lorna climbed in after her.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” Mica said. “I thought this was the servants’ car—”
“You’re fine,” grumbled Lord Riven. Suddenly his thick black hair receded into his scalp, and his fine-boned patrician face seemed to melt as he transformed into a paunchy middle-aged man with a bulbous red nose.
“You’re Mimics!” Mica said.
The former Lord Riven mumbled something incoherent, slumped against a large hatbox, and went straight to sleep.
Lady Lorna’s Impersonator dropped her pouty lips and doe eyes, becoming a squat little woman who wouldn’t be out of place running a village bakery.
“Don’t mind my husband, dear,” she said. “Lord Ober kept him up all night. That man has more energy than someone his age has a right to. I’m Edwina, and this is Rufus.”
“Mica Graydier.”
“Oh yes, we spoke to Master Kiev about you. I must say I don’t envy you. I hear that princess is a whirlwind.”
The carriage lurched into motion. Mica steadied the trunk swaying beside her and leaned toward Edwina. “Do you spend a lot of time in the palace?”
“Goodness, no.” Edwina chuckled. “We’re freelancers based less than a day’s journey from here. Lord Ober hired us for the ceremony. I don’t know that he even asked the lord and lady if they wanted to make the trip. Most noble folk don’t bother with the likes of us.”
Mica didn’t like the sound of that. Didn’t the nobles know their safety and prosperity relied on people like them?
“But that’s really Lord Ober and his wife?”
“Oh yes. And Lord Caleb is himself too, though he seems an elusive chap.”
Mica hadn’t actually seen Lord Ober’s nephew, come to think of it. He was probably one of those lords who didn’t respect her profession.
The carriage trundled across the square, over the red stone bridge, and into the rolling countryside. Farmland surrounded the town for miles, and the smell of hay and cattle filtered in through the carriage windows.
“I must say it was good to be back at the Academy,” Edwina said as she settled in for the ride. “We trained there ourselves nigh on twenty years ago. Kiev joined the Masters Council the same year we got our first assignments. What a legend he is!”
As Redbridge receded behind them, Mica and Edwina chatted about the Academy, where she and Rufus had met, and about Jewel Harbor. Mica was disappointed to find that the cheery Impersonator didn’t know much about life in the Silver Palace itself. Princess Jessamyn, who was a few years older than Mica, had been a toddler when Edwina and Rufus moved out of the capital to raise their children in the country.
“That was before the emperor’s wife died. Oh, I hear that girl needed a mother’s firm hand to rein her in. I expect it’s too late now.”
“Rein her in?” A memory popped into Mica’s head of her mother lifting Wills and Rees straight into the air seconds before they released a jar of poisonous spiders in the kitchen. They’d collected them with their bare hands, not understanding that the rest of the family didn’t have impervious skin like theirs. Somehow, she doubted that was the kind of thing Edwina was talking about. “Is she that bad?”
“You know how ladies are, dear.”
“Uh . . .”
“Reminds me of my first assignment as a double for Lady Maren of Winnow Island. What a temper that woman had! Little wonder she needed protection.”
Edwina babbled on about Lady Maren—who sounded fearsome—as they rumbled down the road toward the western coast of Amber Island. Mica felt troubled at Edwina’s description of the noblewoman, especially after what Sapphire had said about how Mica didn’t know what she was getting herself into. How did she know, for that matter? Sapphire had grown up in a wealthier family than Mica’s, but she was not a noble. Maybe the habits of elegant ladies were discussed more regularly in households that didn’t include four brash boys with far too much energy and supernatural
ability.
Still, it was nice to talk with someone who had worked in various impersonation fields over the years, and when Edwina and Rufus were let off in their town that afternoon, Mica was sorry to see them go.
“Good luck with your assignment, dear,” Edwina said, patting her hand. “And stay safe in the big city, you hear? Talents can’t be too careful these days.”
“What do you mean?”
“You hear things, you know? Disappearances and the like.”
Mica sat forward. “Disappearances?”
“Aye. More than usual. These are strange times.”
“I reckon you’ll be safe in the palace,” Rufus said. He had roused himself at last, and he heaved a trunk out of the way and helped his wife climb down from the carriage.
“Can you tell me more about—?”
“Hurry up back there!” the carriage driver shouted. “You’re keeping His Lordship waiting.”
Rufus grumbled an imprecation then looked back at Mica. “Just keep your eyes open.”
The carriage door slammed, leaving Mica alone with the baggage.
The journey became less enjoyable after Edwina and Rufus departed. The nobles paid little attention to Mica. Lady Euphia complained relentlessly about the food and accommodations whenever they stopped, and Lord Ober spent much of his time appeasing her. He had called Talents the backbone of the empire during his Assignment Ceremony speech, but now he barely seemed to notice Mica. Lord Caleb slept through their early stops and stumbled straight to his room in the inn the first night. Mica caught a glimpse of tousled brown hair and a shuffling walk, but she never saw his face.
She tried making friends with Lady Euphia’s handmaids, who were her best chance to learn about the life she was about to embark on amongst the nobility. The three handmaids were all older than Mica, and they looked oddly alike. Their hair, though different colors on each—black, red-gold, and chestnut—had the same sleek sheen, as if treated with a potion, and all their eyes had a sharp glint, somewhere between haughty and distrustful. They rode in the middle carriage and moved in a giggling group whenever the carriages stopped.
Mica approached them in the crowded common room at the roadside inn where they stayed the first night. The nobles had been given a private booth removed from the ordinary travelers. After making sure all of Lady Euphia’s needs were met, the maids gathered at a table by the window with thick bowls of stew.
“Mind if I join you?” Mica said, coming over to the table with her own stew. “It’s been lonely in the baggage carriage.”
The women turned as one and looked her up and down, their eyes lingering on her skirt. Mica fidgeted with the coarse brown material. The maids wore surprisingly expensive-looking dresses with complicated lace-up fronts emphasizing their womanly features.
“Can I sit, or . . .”
Mica trailed off as identical sneers twisted across rosy lips.
“Who are you?” one of the maids said at last. She had red-gold hair, deep-set eyes, and a mole on her cheek.
“I’m Micathea, from the Academy. Well, originally from Stonefoss, but I’ve been at Redbridge for five years. I’ve been riding with—”
“Stonefoss?” A red-gold eyebrow arched. “How quaint.”
And the women turned right back to their conversation.
Mica gaped at the backs of their heads. She had been trained to pay attention to appearances, and while it was easy to see she didn’t belong in this group, she hadn’t expected outright rudeness. What was their problem?
She was tempted to plop down at the maids’ table no matter what they said. Instead, she left the noisy common room and sat on the steps of the carriage to eat her stew alone, pushing away the growing fear that this assignment was going to be a disaster.
She couldn’t refuse her posting without being liable for the full cost of her education. Employers paid a percentage back to the Academy during the first years of a professional Impersonator’s service, and Mica’s family didn’t have the money to settle a debt like that. She could only hope most of the people she’d encounter in Jewel Harbor wouldn’t be like her traveling companions.
Mica missed Sapphire and Danil more than ever as she ate her stew in the gloomy stable yard, listening to the laughter rising from the common room. Danil had to be back by now. She couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her friend.
Talents can’t be too careful these days. Edwina’s words repeated in her mind. Disappearances . . . More than usual.
Were the Obsidian raiders getting bolder? The possibility that their enemy was becoming more aggressive only strengthened Mica’s feeling that she was traveling in the wrong direction.
Chapter Four
Over the next two days, Mica rode alone in the swaying carriage among the trunks and hatboxes. The scenery changed from rolling farmland to windswept coastline, occasionally interrupted by settlements, and the salty tang of the sea replaced the smell of hay and manure.
The night before they arrived in the capital, they stayed in a bustling seaside town called Gullton. Their inn, located on a steep sea cliff, was packed with people traveling to and from the big city. Mica was given a cot in the servants’ quarters above the common room, where the maids slept six to a room. She turned in early, hoping for a good night’s sleep before she reported to the palace. But the women in her room chatted late into the night, gossiping relentlessly about their employers and ignoring her requests to keep their voices down. After the fourth time the sound of shrill laughter jolted her awake, she gave up and left the room.
The common area was just as noisy as the servants’ quarters. Mica found herself missing the ramshackle tavern where she’d stayed up late with her brothers on her final night in Redbridge. She hadn’t expected to feel isolated among so many people.
You’d be alone in Obsidian too, she reminded herself as she searched for an open seat. This is the life you signed up for.
She spotted Lord Ober drinking port with a handful of other men, all wearing fine clothes suggesting they were nobles or perhaps wealthy merchants. Ober carried himself with a sense of assurance that reminded Mica of the commanding officers back in Stonefoss. They had confidence bordering on arrogance, as if they had never doubted their place in the world. Mica squared her shoulders and adopted a similar stance, hoping the dominant bearing would help her feel bold inside too.
Then someone bumped into her roughly, knocking her hip against a table.
“Watch out,” said a low, gravelly voice.
Mica stepped back as a man with white hair pushed past her, carrying a brimming tankard of ale. She did a double take at the sight of patchy scars covering his face and hands, as if he’d been splashed with burning oil.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean—”
“This is no place for a young woman at this hour,” he grumbled, continuing on to a table at the back of the common room.
Mica sighed, shoulders slumping. So much for her dominant stance. It seemed no place was quite right for her on this journey. Admitting defeat, she slipped out of the inn doors to go for a walk.
Other raucous establishments surrounded their inn on the main Gullton thoroughfare. Mica strolled past them, peeking in windows to catch glimpses of the faces within. Light spilled out onto the sandy street, and the clatter of voices almost drowned out the sound of waves crashing below the town. She wondered if this was what Jewel Harbor would be like. She had never actually been to a city as large as the capital.
Mica walked until she escaped the commotion, keeping the sea to her right. A stiff wind carried fog through the outer edges of Gullton, glowing white as the moon rose high above it. The cacophony of the inns faded as she left the town boundaries and strode along a pathway beside the cliff. Soon all she could hear was the wind and the waves.
She found a large, flat rock overlooking the water and sat cross-legged on it to exercise her faces. She was supposed to practice her impersonations every day, cycling throu
gh features the way a singer practiced scales. As the moonlit fog swirled around her, she engaged the muscles in her face one by one, calling on her Talent to change her eyes from hazel to green to blue, first dark and murky and then as pale as a late-summer sky. Pale blue turned to yellow, darkening to brown to black, then gray, lavender, and on through increasingly unnatural shades. Next she morphed her eyebrows, thinned, thickened, arched in different places depending on the mood she wanted to convey. Her mouth was next, followed by her skin tone and then the bone structure of her face. It was soothing to stretch her features from shape to shape as the wind blew sharp across her cheeks.
After completing her “scales,” Mica stood up on the rock at the cliff’s edge and practiced her regular rotation of impersonations. The cowherd’s daughter, the buxom barmaid, the mischievous lad, the lean old soldier, the humpbacked crone. She became a fat little boy, a devastating beauty, a miniature version of Master Kiev. She couldn’t bring herself to practice any of her Obsidian impersonations. Taking on those shapes reminded her too much of the excitement and anticipation as she’d prepared for her espionage career. She tried to hold on to the hope that Master Kiev had something big in mind for her in Jewel Harbor, something only she could do.
The roar of the waves breaking against the cliff below filled her ears as the night deepened. The fog was like a living thing, morphing and curling around her in an elegant dance. The chill raised bumps on her arms.
Mica began to grow tired. Impersonation took effort, just like lifting heavy objects or walking long distances. But she needed to stay sharp, especially because she would need to learn a whole new cast of impersonations in the palace. She tried out a few of the people she had seen on the journey, mimicking Rufus’s paunch, Lord Ober’s nose, the haughty maid’s mole and red-gold hair. At last, she shifted back to her own form: slight build, snub nose, nut-brown hair.
