Masquerade

by Lam, Laura

‘And frightening,’ I said.

  ‘Yes.’

  They left me, and I napped. I did not dream of the grave robber, but instead of Timur, the leader of the Kashura.

  He stared right at me with those intense eyes, that shock of curly hair. Fury radiated off him in waves. He was in a sumptuous room, surrounded by his followers, none of whom I recognized.

  ‘Have you found any others?’ he asked. ‘What about the girl young Oli mentioned? The one who could read minds, even influence them?’

  One of his followers shook his head. ‘Nothing yet, sir. Yet the hunt continues. It shouldn’t take long until we find either the woman who escaped the cathedral, or another one.’

  ‘Concentrate your efforts. Find one strong enough and we can find the rest,’ he said.

  The sound of voices woke me. Groggy, I sat up, but at least the worst of the headache had fled. The dream had left me unsettled.

  Running my hands through my hair to try and tame it, I opened the door to my bedroom and froze.

  Within our cramped lounge, Maske, Lily – her ridiculous hat set beside her on the sofa – and Doctor Pozzi were having tea with Drystan and Cyan. Ricket was asleep on Lily’s lap. Traitor.

  I felt awkward in my rumpled clothes, my eyes still gummy with sleep. I’d taken off the Lindean corset I wore beneath my clothes to bind my breasts. Sleeping in it was nothing resembling comfortable. Granted, in the heat of summer, it also itched terribly, but if I wanted to dress as a boy, it stayed on. Hunching my shoulders to hide my small breasts, I bit my lip with nerves.

  Maske couldn’t contain his excitement. ‘The good Doctor has just confirmed we will be performing for the Princess in a few days’ time!’

  We smiled back at him, but all of us were hesitant. Me and Drystan because there were likely people in the palace we’d know, and Cyan as she was still uncomfortable around the nobility. She’d been sympathetic to the Foresters and their mission to bring more democracy to Ellada, but now, thanks to the violent actions of the Kashura, she’d turned against the party. Performing for a monarchy she was not loyal to was not her preference, but she would do it, both for the money and for Maske.

  ‘Well,’ said Doctor Pozzi, putting on his white gloves to cover his clockwork hand, ‘I should probably return to the palace and give them your acceptance. Thank you for the tea, and it was nice to meet you, Miss Verre.’

  I only barely managed not to scoff. Lily met my eyes, then glanced back at Doctor. ‘The pleasure’s mine. Good day, Royal Physician.’

  I walked the doctor to the door. On our crumbled front steps, he put on his top hat.

  ‘Why are you doing this for us?’ I asked, tired of dancing around everything. Perhaps I’d forgotten more of the etiquette my mother had taught me than I thought.

  ‘It’s not for you,’ he said.

  I blinked in surprise.

  He paused. ‘That came out harsher than I meant it to. But I’m doing this mostly for the Princess Royal. She’s lonely. For several weeks after the magic duel, your performance was all she would speak about, she enjoyed it so much. When she found out I knew you all, she begged me to speak to the Steward about letting you come and perform for her. So I am merely following her wishes.’

  ‘What’s she like?’ I’d only met her briefly, after the magicians’ duel. She’d been as excited as any other little girl, though her smile had dimmed a little in the shadow of the Steward looming above her. The Princess’s parents had died in a gyrocopter crash near Byssia when she was a toddler. Her uncle, the Steward, was to rule in her stead until she came of age at sixteen, but it was clear to all that the Steward relished the throne and might not give it up easily. The Princess, not even seven, was torn between power plays. Her life would not be easy.

  ‘She’s a jewel, our Princess. I just hope that she won’t crack. Pressure makes diamonds, after all.’

  And with that, he left.

  11

  THE SHIMMERING GIRL AT THE PALACE

  Once there was a girl with dragonfly wings, who soared above the world. She looked down and saw happiness, and sadness, and wide expanses with no one at all save the animals and trees and rocks and streams. She flew all the way around the world, writing down whatever she saw. When she came back, she did not show anyone her little journal. It was her version of the world, and she wanted to keep it for her alone.

  — ‘The Dragonfly Girl’, Hestia’s Fables

  We went to the palace two days later, following the instructions sent by courier on sumptuous regal stationery.

  The Steward sent a gilded carriage for us. Maske, Cyan, Drystan and I squeezed into it and enjoyed the rare luxury. My brother wanted to come, but his name was not on the invitation and I did not want anyone to see us together, lest they make the connection between him and his missing sister.

  The carriage jostled, the engine purring and smooth. Drystan, Maske and I wore smart dark suits with cravats that matched Cyan’s green sash. Drystan and I also had our customary Glamour disguises. I often wondered what we’d do when the power for the Vestige tools ran out. Glamours were beyond our price range just now, and the prices would only go up.

  Cyan kept looking out of the window. She wore an Elladan dress of dark blue damask, a sash of Temnian green silk at her waist. She hadn’t painted her face with the swirling Alder designs as she often did when she played Madame Damselfly, but she’d lined the lids of her eyes in silver, which sparkled as the light hit it.

  Cyan couldn’t help but be curious about the interior of the palace. She turned to me, knowing my mind reached towards hers. Think of all that tax money sitting in marble columns and silver cutlery. Wrapped up in mansions in the Emerald Bowl and lavish apartments in the city. The Snakewoods and the Twelve Trees take so much while their subjects live like they do in the Penny Rookeries.

  I could not disagree with her. Living in the Penny Rookeries, in the neighbourhood where the Foresters had begun, had made me think differently about the monarchy. Every day I saw thin beggars holding out hands for coins. We gave them what coppers we could spare, but we knew it was not enough. Hungry children played in alleyways unsupervised, and others, not much older, worked in factories twelve hours a day. Poverty was everywhere, with no hope of reprieve. Yet here, in one room of the palace, was enough gold to feed everyone in that neighbourhood for over a year. Why did the nobility need so much, when so many others had a greater need? The bulk of the Forester cause made sense.

  As the carriage waited by the imposing metal gates of the palace, I looked out over the square where the Celestial Cathedral had once stood proud. They’d cleared away the rubble, but the broken foundations were like a scar on the city’s face. Flowers lined the square, tributes to those who had been killed. There were nubs of extinguished candles, and notes written by the victims’ family members and other sympathizers were tied to posts, fluttering in the wind. There was talk of Imachara erecting a memorial statue and rebuilding the cathedral – which all sounded well and good, until people remembered it would be taxes from Ellada’s already overstretched coffers that funded it.

  The guard looked at our official invitation and then spoke through a Vestige communicator to the palace. After a long pause he nodded and opened the metal gate, letting the carriage through.

  It was not a case of simply walking into the palace. We were led to an alcove and asked to empty our pockets. Anything that could be used as a weapon was taken away. They patted me down and I had to lie, awkwardly, that the binding corset beneath my shirt was for a problem with my back.

  After we had all been searched, we were led into another room and asked to wait while our gear was unloaded from the carriage and likewise searched. Anisa’s Aleph was hidden in one of our equipment cases, and with a little mental push from Cyan, they did not search that one too closely. It was more a show of control than anything else. Most of our magic props could have been used as weapons – the séance table, the wires and hooks, even the wands. If they really meant to take away pot
ential weapons, we’d be forced onto the stage with nearly nothing.

  We were kept there, watched by the guards, for nearly three quarters of an hour. None of us said much, all too aware that the guards would report our conversation word for word back to the rest of security.

  Despite it all, though, I was looking forward to seeing Princess Nicolette. She was old enough to start noticing when people kept secrets from her, or perhaps lied to her for her own good. Seven was when I started resenting the doctors my parents kept taking me to, when I started mistrusting them telling me it was for my health. What sort of person would the Princess grow up to be? The Steward himself kept out of the public eye, for the most part. He was uncharismatic in his few speeches on holidays. People mistrusted him, hence the rumours flying thick and fast that he wanted to keep the throne. I had only met him the one time I’d met the Princess, and I couldn’t read him either. I hoped he treated her well, taught her what she’d need to know to rule in these uncertain times. Though the violent Kashura arm of the Foresters did not have much support, the people still wanted change. They were growing impatient, and afraid. That could breed more violence, and more sympathy towards it.

  She was still a child, and I remembered how her face had lit up as she watched the magic show. On stage, she’d given Maske, Drystan, and Cyan medals to thank them for the performance, stiff and regal; but afterwards, she’d asked me questions as any normal child might. I hoped we could bring her a little magic again.

  Finally, we were led to one of the salons to set up. The ostentatious display did not impress me as it once might have. Now, it was entirely too much. Soft glass globes tinged pale pink and orange lent the room a dreamy glow. The entire place was made out of marble threaded through with gold. The columns around the dance floor were purest white, but the floor was a pale rose-tinted marble, with smaller tiles of a deep amber stone marking out the design of the Twelve Trees of Nobility. A large, twining Snakewood tree was ringed with a circle, surrounded with different leaf shapes like the hours of a clock: Snakewood at the twelve o’clock spot, surrounded by Ash, Balsa, Cedar, Cyprus, Ebony, Elm, Hornbeam, Oak, Poplar, Redwood, and Walnut.

  They were the original families of nobility, in power since Ellada became the largest empire of the Archipelago. Centuries’ worth of wealth was shared between them, political alliances made through marriages. Sometimes their fortunes could fall, briefly; previous generations of my own adopted family, the Lauruses, had lost wealth in risky business ventures. It was one of the reasons they’d taken the child Pozzi gave them, and the hefty sum of money that came with me. It meant they could rejoin the higher rings of nobility and take advantage of the societal perks associated with that.

  Before us was the stage, a smaller but more ornate version of ours at the Kymri Theatre. Seeing it gave us all a pang, reminding us of the cracked plaster and broken stage of our home. More glass globes were suspended over the polished stage like clusters of pale grapes. Servants were setting out chairs, and we oversaw the seating placement to ensure that no one would be sitting at an angle that might let them see too much and spoil the illusions.

  We set up and went through a few practice rounds. The servants lingered and watched, becoming our rehearsal audience. They applauded for us at the end. Hopefully this meant word of Maske and his Marionettes would spread throughout the palace, and perhaps some of the other servants would come to our Kymri Theatre when shows started again.

  Near the end, after we were packing up, I caught sight of Princess Nicolette peeking around the door. She was with her nurse. When the Princess met my eyes she smiled, recognizing me. I gave her a wink and she blushed.

  As she turned, I saw a flicker. It was as if feathers of light emerged from her skin, then re-settled and disappeared. It reminded me of the shimmer when Anisa took over my body, or the occasional glitch that could happen when a Glamour ran low on power. Her nurse saw, her eyes widening. With a frightened look at me, she took her royal charge away. No one else had seen.

  I hadn’t imagined it.

  We finished our rehearsal and went back to the Penny Rookeries. Our apartments looked all the tawdrier after the grand ballroom.

  ‘The Princess couldn’t be controlled by an Aleph, could she?’ I asked, as we clustered in the lounge. Maske was, as usual, back in his new workshop-bedroom. Cyan and Drystan shrugged and then looked to Anisa, who I’d asked to join us.

  ‘It could be an Aleph. Any being containing a consciousness like me could flicker like that. However, I’d wager it’s more likely a Glamour low on power, as you thought. Or sometimes, if there’s feedback from other articles of Vestige, it can interfere with a Glamour.’

  ‘Curious, curious,’ Drystan said. ‘Why would the Princess be wearing a Glamour? Don’t we have enough to worry about already?’

  ‘It seems there is one more worry to add,’ Anisa said.

  ‘You, ancient damselfly, have no sense of humour,’ Drystan told her wryly.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, which made me nervous. I never knew quite what Anisa thought of Drystan.

  ‘Any other dreams?’ Anisa asked me.

  ‘Just the Timur one.’ I’d already told them about that, along with the feeling of sensing other Chimaera. ‘And I’ve not sensed anyone other than Cyan, either.’

  ‘You’ve not been able to procure any Elixir?’ Anisa asked me.

  ‘There hasn’t been a chance. I’m trying to think of a distraction for next week.’ My tone was defensive.

  ‘Take Drystan with you,’ she said. Drystan frowned at her. ‘He can do it. The sooner the better.’ I noticed she didn’t volunteer a way to help.

  ‘We’re on it. And we’ll see what happens on Saturday,’ I said. ‘And we’re still looking out for Lily going to Pozzi’s. We missed her last week, but hopefully we can follow her this week.’ I rubbed my temples. It was, as Drystan said, too much to worry about, and there was only so much space in my mind. All we could do was push forward and hope luck gave us a break.

  We each went to bed.

  But there was no escape for me there.

  The two corpses lay in a row in the dim laboratory. They were still fresh, and the serum I used kept them in that suspended state, free of further decay, but it wouldn’t last forever. I needed Ampulla tanks, and sooner rather than later. My experiment needed to work within the next few weeks or I’d have to start all over again with new cadavers.

  I drifted closer, hefting the syringe in my hospital-gloved hands. The one nearest to me was the woman who had committed suicide. Wires poked from her veins, connected to machines pilfered from the hospital. Her long, dark auburn hair curled over her shoulders. She must have been lovely, this girl who decided that life was a battle too difficult to fight. I wondered what finally drove her over the edge.

  I unwrapped the bandages, wincing at the sight of the ugly wounds. I touched her hair, then pushed back her grave-dirt-stained sleeve and pushed the syringe into the crook of her elbow.

  The gashes on her wrists still did not heal.

  ‘This will work,’ I told myself. ‘This has to work.’

  I tried once more. And slowly, so slowly, the dead flesh began to knit back together.

  I smiled, and then turned to the man I’d killed at the University Hospital.

  ‘Your turn.’

  I woke up, shivering. The whole bed was cold, as if I had no body heat to warm it. Drystan lay curled into a ball away from me. I shook him. He didn’t wake easily. I had to try several times before he finally stirred.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, his voice blurred with sleep.

  ‘I had another one of the dreams,’ I whispered.

  He put his arms around me. ‘What happened?’

  I told him all I’d seen.

  ‘Experimenting on corpses.’ He sighed. ‘It has to be Pozzi, surely. Him or Timur. You dreamed of him, too.’

  ‘Maybe him. He did want Chimaera. Perhaps he’d settle for dead ones, too. I can’t tell whose eyes I
’m looking through, whether man, woman, or Kedi. It could be Lily or Kai, working at Pozzi’s request. It could be Timur, or one of his followers. It could be someone working for the Royal Family. The Steward was interested enough in the three Chimaera to let them speak to the city. It could be someone entirely unrelated. We simply don’t know.’

  The person in the dream never looked down at their clothing. I had an impression of long, dark sleeves and those hospital gloves, but that was all. I sighed. ‘I’m so tired of this. Every time I turn around there’s something new to contend with.’

  ‘I know. It’d be nice to go at least a couple of weeks without some sort of catastrophe, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘That it would.’

  He pulled me closer. ‘You’re cold as ice.’

  ‘I guess riding the minds of people committing crimes with cadavers steals all my warmth,’ I said, pressing closer to him. He was so leanly muscled that he didn’t seem to keep any of his heat, and it radiated from him like a furnace.

  He stroked my hair from my face, his other hand making lazy circles on my back. I shivered in a different way. My lips pressed to the square of his jaw, the small hairs at the base of his neck tickling my cheek. I always turned to him after nightmares, but he was always there to comfort me. As if after dreaming of death I had to remember that I was alive. He pulled me closer, and our shirts rucked up, our bellies pressing against each other.

  I sat up, drawing him up with me and pulling off his shirt, running my fingertips along the tips and grooves of his muscles. He pulled off my shirt. My breasts were small, but just fit into the palm of his hand. We shimmied out of the rest of our clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor, exploring and losing ourselves in the other.

  I was still so cold, and I let him melt me.

  12

  THE BOY WITH HORNS

  Hush, my child,

  and fall into sleep,

  to have your dreams of wild

  worlds and oceans deep.

  Let your troubles slip and fade,