Masquerade

by Lam, Laura

  ‘I do not know. Perhaps the Lord and the Lady decided I had suffered enough.’

  Drystan finished the story:

  ‘But even though the gargoyle was freed, he stayed by the side of his queen, through all her long years. He flew throughout the kingdom, protecting the borders. He became her adviser in earnest, though others still feared him and called him a monster.

  ‘With the curse broken, the gargoyle aged. And when the Queen died of old age, her gargoyle soon followed.’

  The glass globes brightened again, with Cyan, Drystan, and me on stage. We bowed to applause. The Princess’s companions smiled and clapped, even Drystan’s sister Darla, who in my memory was sombre. The Princess smiled like the rest of them, but there was a small line between her eyes, as though she still contemplated the storyline. The allegory was fairly evident – Chimaera, like the gargoyle, meant no harm.

  Darla looked at me, frowning. I straightened my shirt, nervous. I was wearing the Glamour and male clothing – there was no way she could recognize me as the girl who had sat across the table from her at afternoon tea parties in the Emerald Bowl. Yet I was relieved when her attention wandered elsewhere.

  The Princess came to us, clasping our hands and thanking us for the performance. It seemed as if she’d enjoyed it, but knowing she wore so many different personas for different people made it difficult to tell for certain. At our duel with Taliesin, she’d smiled and clapped, bright with excitement. Had that been real? I hoped so.

  How are you feeling, Your Highness? I chanced asking her with my mind.

  She started, but recovered her composure. A lot better than last time, thank you, she replied.

  I’m glad, I said.

  I’ve been wanting to speak to you. Can anyone hear us?

  I strengthened the shield around our minds, so even Cyan would not hear. It’s safe. What did you wish to discuss, Your Highness?

  I’m growing ill a lot. Collapsing like I did last time. The doctor told me you are having treatments too. And others.

  Others. Me and Frey; were there more? Was Kai treated? Why hadn’t I thought to ask that?

  Yes. I take Elixir injections once a week, just like you do. But I’m not sure how I can help. We are . . . different.

  I’m scared all the time, and no one understands. I can’t tell anyone. Her eyes darted towards her friends, speaking amongst themselves and nibbling on scones and cakes laid out by the servants. Well, not Darla. She still had no sweet tooth.

  Yes. I do know what that’s like, I thought.

  The Doctor will fix us, she said, determined. I looked into her hopeful face and I wanted to weep.

  Perhaps he will, is all I said.

  We’d been silent and staring at each other too long. I turned away from her and busied myself with my magic props.

  Maybe neither of us needs to be cured, I sent her.

  Her eyes widened and she smiled at me genuinely, eyes as bright as the night of the magic duel. I do like you, Sam Harper.

  Please, call me Micah. It’s my real name. And I like you too, my Princess.

  Call me Nico.

  Nico. I flashed her a little smile, marvelling at the fact I’d just called the future monarch by a nickname.

  The Steward entered with a few bodyguards and servants, to lead the Princess and her companions to their lessons.

  But the Steward lingered. Drystan, Cyan, and I all bowed low to him as etiquette dictated with a murmured, ‘Your Highness.’

  ‘Good afternoon,’ he greeted us. His lone bodyguard stared straight ahead, a statue made of flesh and bone. Soon, he could forget every word we were about to utter.

  And, if the Steward decided we knew too much, he’d do the same to us. I shivered.

  ‘Another enjoyable show, I hear. My apologies that I could not attend, but I was needed elsewhere.’

  ‘You are a busy man and we completely understand, Your Highness,’ Drystan said.

  ‘I’ve learned more about you since our last visit,’ the Steward said with that same, inscrutable calmness. Cyan stared at him hard, and a frown line appeared between her eyebrows.

  He’s wearing a Cricket, she whispered. Can’t sense a thing. He either knows or suspects, and neither is good. He also has an Augur, so ensure you do not lie outright, but you can withhold aspects of the truth without triggering it.

  ‘Yes, Your Highness?’ I chanced, when no one else made a move.

  ‘Of course, with the little our Royal Physician told me, I had to delve deeper to ensure you are safe enough to have around my niece. What I found was most interesting.’

  My mouth was dry. He did not seem to expect an answer this time. That little smile still played around his mouth. Here was the man in charge of a kingdom, of a former head of an empire. Here was a man who knew every piece in play, and delighted cornering us into a checkmate.

  ‘You,’ he said, nodding to Cyan, ‘are Cyan Zhu. You grew up in Riley and Batheo’s Circus of Curiosities, the daughter of Temnian immigrants. After suspicious circumstances involving a lion tamer, you left the circus.’

  Cyan swallowed. ‘The way you phrased that, Your Highness, makes it seem as if I was involved. I was not.’

  ‘No, no, I am well aware the tragedy was an accident. Yet there is a strange spate of rumours about the exact reasons for your disappearance.’

  One of his hands went to the hollow of his neck, where he wore the Cricket disguised beneath his clothes. Cyan’s back stiffened.

  ‘In any case, should I have need, I believe your certain skills will prove most advantageous. Can I rely on you?’

  Cyan did not hesitate. ‘I am a loyal citizen of Ellada. What you need, I will give.’ Unless you ask me to do something undeniably wrong and against the spirit of Ellada. She shot me a look out of the corner of her eye, and I gave her the most imperceptible of nods.

  ‘And Ellada thanks you for it,’ the Steward said. ‘And you,’ he said, next turning to me. ‘Maske insists on referring to you as Sam Harper, but we both know that is not your name. It’s not even Micah Grey, the young fugitive. It’s Iphigenia Laurus, the runaway. Your parents are very worried about you.’

  I forced myself not to react, but it was all I could do not to faint. The Steward had done his homework on us. ‘They are,’ I managed.

  ‘You’re a little harder to deduce. You seem strong; by all accounts you were a very healthy child. No evidence of wrongdoing prior to that night at R. H. Ragona’s Circus of Magic, and none since.’

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  ‘Tell me what you can do, Iphigenia Laurus.’

  The name made me wince. ‘Micah Grey is the name I now use, Your Highness.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Micah.’ His voice was flat with a warning.

  Taking a deep breath, I told the truth. ‘I rarely grew ill, until I needed Pozzi’s treatments. If I am injured, I heal faster. I can sometimes glean the thoughts and emotions of others. That’s all.’

  He paused, waiting to see if his Augur would chirp. He nodded. ‘Thank you for telling me the truth. I know this is not easy.’

  I breathed a little easier. The Steward turned to Drystan, and my shoulders tensed again.

  ‘You were an interesting surprise as well,’ the Steward said. ‘Amon Fletcher is yet another pseudonym. But I did not expect the son of my most trusted adviser to be one of the escaped clowns from R. H. Ragona’s Circus of Magic.’

  ‘I don’t have any abilities,’ Drystan bit out.

  ‘Oh, I know. But you are still very useful to me. Card-counting, petty theft, drug dealing, and picking locks. This could come in handy. I also figure that, since I can’t dangle the threat of exposure, I have to use a slightly firmer hand.’ Another pause, a studied glance at his fingernails. ‘You have a young sister. Darla, is it? She was just here. A lovely young girl – her debutante ball is this year.’ The Steward smiled. ‘It would damage her prospects if word were to spread about what her brother has been up to. Might harm your fath
er’s standing, although you’re probably not bothered by that. Am I wrong?’

  Drystan didn’t collapse, but it was a very near thing. My ears rang and Cyan’s mental walls had fractured, her fear and confusion spiralling into the room. I had only met Darla a handful of times, and though I didn’t like her, the thought that the Steward would so cavalierly speak of ruining her future chances left me cold. I’d faced a life without prospects. It was hard for a young woman of means to remain on the shelf, especially if it was due to a scandal in no way her fault. In that moment, I hated the ruler of our country.

  The Steward could ask us to do almost anything, and we would have to do his bidding. The Steward of Ellada, one of the most powerful men in the country, knew all of our secrets and dangled them over us. He was shrewd and knew he could not rely on our loyalty to the crown alone. He let us know that he could destroy us with a wave of his pinkie, sending us to prison for the rest of our lives if we refused him.

  It was a pretty trap. And how easily we had stepped into it.

  ‘Are . . . you asking us to do anything?’ I managed to ask, voice shaking.

  The Steward smiled, and he shed that polite facade. His smile should have had pointed teeth. ‘Not now. Not yet.’

  ‘Why not hire proper spies? Even knowing our secrets, we’re hardly professionals, Your Highness.’

  ‘No, that you aren’t. Yet the Princess’s secret is spreading far too quickly for comfort and I don’t know who to trust. The Kashura have agents everywhere. I don’t trust you, but I trust that you wish to remain free. Blackmail and bribery are not my usual way of business, but in this case, they are a necessity.’ He spread his hands widely, but made no further apology.

  ‘We will do as you bid, Your Majesty,’ I said, bowing and hoping it was to the right depth. Growing up, I’d focused on memorizing the proper curtsies. Drystan followed, stiffly, and Cyan sank into a shaking curtsy.

  The Steward of Ellada let us go. For now.

  19

  THE NEEDLE

  Lerium is one of the most powerful drugs known to man. It was not consumed by the public until the last century. Before that, it was a sacred substance used only by priests in the remote mountains of Byssia. A foolhardy Elladan trekked through the mountains on his own, and became trapped in a snowstorm. He would have died, had not a passing priest seen him shivering beneath a pine tree and taken him to their monastery. The priest may have later regretted his decision.

  The priests had one of their ceremonies, and the Elladan, breaking their hospitality, stole some Lerium and tried it himself. The high was the best the man had ever experienced, and this was a man to try as many substances as possible. He brought some back with him to Ellada.

  The secret was out. Within a matter of years, Lerium was no longer the exclusive providence of Byssian priests. But Byssians were very canny about it. They kept the recipe and the source of the drug secret, so Ellada could not copy it. Though the drug has ravaged many in Byssia, Ellada, and all the former colonies, at the same time, it has made Byssia incredibly wealthy.

  Yet if that man had perished in the snowstorm, would Lerium still be the well-kept secret of the priests? Would all the people who have since perished from the drug still be alive? Very possibly.

  — ‘Lerium’, paper and lecture by PROFESSOR IONA DOUGLAS, a student of PROFESSOR CAED CEDAR, Royal Snakewood University

  Drystan only barely managed to hold it together until we were home. He sat in the carriage, still as could be. None of us could bring ourselves to speak and Cyan had her mental walls locked tight. I was as surprised as anyone at the ruthlessness of the Steward, but at the same time it was somehow inevitable.

  Drystan had tried to leave his family and Elladan politics behind, and now he was drawn back into their orbit. The Steward had toyed with all of us, but him most of all, showing that he could still shatter the life Drystan thought he’d left behind. The Steward hadn’t threatened my brother. Perhaps he felt he didn’t need to, or through his network already knew of Cyril’s staunch loyalty to the crown and didn’t wish to taint it.

  It was all because Pozzi had told the Steward enough secrets to pique his interest. He’d arranged this as neatly as everything else. In some ways, the Royal Physician and the Steward were two sides of the same Elladan coin.

  I’d hoped that despite everything, the doctor had our best interests at heart. Now, I dreaded my next visit, even as the thought of more Elixir sent a thrill of anticipation through me.

  When we entered our flat, Maske rang the bell from his bedroom impatiently, urging us to report. I couldn’t help but be glad that he hadn’t been there for this.

  ‘Don’t tell him,’ I whispered. ‘He doesn’t need to be drawn into our troubles any more than he already is.’ They agreed.

  Maske had also received a letter from the insurance company the day before, saying that the renovations of the Kymri Theatre would be delayed due to Forester protests around the area and limited shifts due to curfew.

  I still did most of the talking, telling Maske the Princess had enjoyed the show and asking how he felt. He said he was feeling better and would soon be able to dance a jig.

  ‘But maybe not just now,’ he added, ruefully. He asked for more details, and so I kept speaking until the sound of my voice lulled him to sleep. He slumped against the pillow, his hair rumpled and his mouth hanging open in a most un-Maske-like fashion. Cyan put her palm on his forehead.

  ‘His fever’s broken,’ she said. ‘He just needs sleep.’

  We left him, dimming the lamps, before returning to our bedroom. The room was stifling, so I opened the window. Outside, the air was crisp and chilly, but the night was clear.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Cyan asked Drystan.

  ‘No,’ he said, shortly.

  ‘Me neither.’ Cyan wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at the stars. ‘We can only hope he never calls on his favour.’

  ‘It’s only a matter of time.’ We should never have accepted Pozzi’s invitation to perform for the Princess. The strings attached had tied us too tightly.

  We lapsed into a silence filled with worry. My hand clasped Drystan’s, giving him what wordless comfort I could. The moonlight shone its faint silver light on the three of us.

  I awoke in the middle of the night, alone in the bed. The space next to me was cold. I waited a few minutes, wondering if Drystan had gone to the toilet, but he didn’t return. I left the bed, my bare feet cold on the floor.

  He wasn’t in the bathroom. I reached out with my mind and sensed him in the tiny spare bedroom, the one we used for storage of our magic kit. Bizarre. If he couldn’t sleep, he’d surely go to the kitchen or the small lounge, with the banked fires to take away the evening chill. Foreboding surged through me as I made my way to the room.

  I could not sense his thoughts through the door – for all my recent surge in abilities, I wasn’t anywhere near as talented as Cyan.

  Frozen with indecision, I wanted to knock but at the same time feared to discover what he was doing in there. Did that mean I didn’t trust him? It was his own business, and I’d kept my own fair share of secrets from him in the past.

  I strained to read him again, but only sensed . . . elation?

  I’m probably going to regret this, I thought before pushing open the door.

  For a moment, the room seemed empty aside from the covered magical props, and I squinted. There, in the corner, Drystan lay curled up around himself.

  ‘Oh, Styx,’ I said in dread. In front of him lay a spent syringe, and I knew it was Elixir. If I hadn’t spent so long tied up in my own fear, I might have been able to stop him.

  ‘Drystan.’ I rolled him onto his side. I’d read somewhere that you should do that, in case they choked on their own vomit. He was shivering, his eyes rolled up into his head.

  ‘Oh, you stupid fool,’ I said, my hands fluttering over him, unsure what to do. I had no experience with this, and no idea how Elixir would affect him. What if it was
poisonous to someone not Chimaera?

  Drystan’s eyes opened and focused on me, sharp as knives.

  ‘I sense the threads of the world,’ he said, clutching the front of my shirt. ‘They’re made of light. The blue of Penglass, the orange of sunset, the red of blood. I sense them all.’

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ I said, speaking to him calmly, though my heartbeat pounded in my ears.

  ‘No, you don’t understand. It’s like Anisa said. Everything is written in the world, if only you have the ability to read it. And she’s right. Someone wishes to hurt the Chimaera. But it’s so cloudy. I see the man behind it, but his face is . . . blurry?’ He rested his face in his hands. ‘It’s beautiful and terrible to read the world. Oh Gods, what have I done? I . . . just wanted to be better than myself again. For a little while.’

  ‘Oh, Drystan,’ I said, stroking the hair back from his face. ‘You don’t have to be better than yourself. You’re wonderful as you are.’

  ‘No,’ he said forcefully, pushing away. ‘I can’t help you. The day the cathedral fell, I couldn’t help you. The other day, with Frey and you and Cyan, I was thrown across the room by power like I was a feather. But now I can – with Elixir, anyone can be at least a little Chimaera. Maybe that’s why they’re so afraid of you.’ He struggled to sit up. ‘It means I could help you if I keep taking it!’ The words tumbled from his mouth, faster and faster. ‘Maybe I’d gain a power, like moving objects with my mind, or turn invisible, or fly! It’s not for the high. You have to believe me. I didn’t do this just for the high. I’m not an addict . . .’

  He shook even worse. I swallowed, my mouth dry with fear. ‘You shouldn’t have done this without telling me. Elixir is risky, and you didn’t know how it’d affect you. We don’t even know what’s in it yet.’

  It could be dangerous because you’re not like Cyan and me, I wanted to add, but bit my tongue. I knew he felt left out because he did not have extra abilities. Yet I never thought he’d do something so foolhardy as to risk addiction with a drug we didn’t understand.

  ‘I wasn’t going to . . . I was just going to look at it.’