by Zen DiPietro
A roar of agreement.
She kept the smile on her face. “I probably won’t be allowed to leave until I do, right?”
Hisses and whistles from the audience. For such a fancy bunch, they were definitely letting it all out.
“Anything but ‘Realms,’” she said with a cheeky smile.
Laughter and groans. It was the one song they really did want to hear. She knew there was no getting out of it.
She held her hands up in a quelling gesture. “Okay, okay. ‘Realms,’ then. But then that song goes on permanent retirement. I will not be performing it again. Ever.”
The host looked surprised, but pasted on a game smile. “Well, there you have it, folks. Élan Gray’s final performance of her epic song ‘Realms.’”
He swept away and Élan scanned the stage, noting the placement of the audio pickups. As the opening notes of the music streamed into the air, she picked a stage light and positioned herself just right, so that she was illuminated to best effect.
Her lead-in arrived, and with a quick breath she intoned the soft notes of the introduction. The slow progression allowed her voice to warm up gradually since she hadn’t had the opportunity to do so before. The song picked up in volume and pace, then hit the drop, from which her voice soared to the rafters. She used every millimeter of her three-octave range, moving from the warmth of her lowest register and leaping straight up into the higher parts of her register. The song required vocal range and technique that few people on the planet possessed, which made “Realms” a tune that very few other singers ever attempted.
The performance ended with a huge, forceful note that she sustained for so long that people were on their feet clapping and cheering before she was even halfway through it. Finally, she cut off the note at the perfect instant, held her hands out in a “for you” gesture, then bowed. She waited a moment longer to acknowledge the applause, then swept backstage.
She returned to the dressing room with a sense of relief, but was taken aback to find a woman standing in front of the door. She was more surprised when she realized it was Kassimeigh.
Instead of the black shoka Élan had expected, Kassimeigh wore a flame-orange gown with braided shoulder straps and a scoop neckline. The dress fit her perfectly, showing off her lovely shape and muscular physique. When Kassimeigh moved, Élan saw that the skirt transitioned to narrow strips of fabric, almost like fringe. Every movement provided glimpses of long legs. Kassimeigh’s red hair had been pinned up into a curly, cascading updo that managed to be both elegant and unruly.
“Wow,” Élan said, for the second time of the night. She had some seriously gorgeous friends.
“Didn’t expect me in a dress, did you?” Kassimeigh asked, looking pleased with herself.
“Nope.”
“That’s why I wore a dress.”
“Of course.” Élan nodded.
“Beautiful performance.”
“Thank you.” She waited for Kassimeigh to mention her newly public existence, but she didn’t. Of course not. Why would she waste time belaboring the obvious?
The justice brushed her hand over the scanner and opened the door to the dressing room. “Let’s talk in here.”
Élan closed the door behind them and sat on the couch. Kassimeigh sat, too, propping her feet up on a footstool. Élan noticed that she wore a pair of soft slippers in a shade of orange that matched her dress, but no foot jewelry. Well, it made sense that the justice wasn’t very concerned with current fashions. Heck, she might just provoke a new trend, the way she looked.
The fringed skirt of Kassimeigh’s dress shifted and Élan caught a glimpse of something dark against Kassimeigh’s thigh.
“Is that a knife sheath?”
Kassimeigh glanced at her leg. “Yes.”
“Your favorite accessory is a weapon?”
Humor glinted. “Yes, that’s right. Just one weapon.”
Élan got the impression that Kassimeigh was saying there were actually quite a few weapons strategically concealed by that orange gown. She started to ask how many were under there, then thought better of it. It was probably a rude question. Besides, some things were better left unknown.
“Have you seen them yet? Jonas and Kett?” Kassimeigh asked.
On to business, then. “Not yet. But Kett is keen to meet Coco, so as long as I stick with her, it will happen. As long as they’re here.”
“They are.”
Of course Kassimeigh would know that.
Élan said, “Good. There will be cocktails in the side rooms while the main space is converted back into a ballroom. Then the dancing will begin. There will be a few hours of that, but people will start drifting away after only an hour or so. Most break off to attend private parties.”
Kassimeigh nodded.
A light knock came from the door, which opened before Élan could respond. Night and Coco paused uncertainly when they saw Kassimeigh. Élan gestured them in with a welcoming smile.
“We wanted to congratulate you on your performance,” Coco said to Élan once the door closed, but her eyes remained on Kassimeigh.
The small room suddenly felt crowded with all four of them in it. Night stood with his back to the door, while Coco stood next to the dressing table.
“Kassimeigh, these two are Night and Coco. Along with Sim, they’re my closest friends. I trust both of them implicitly,” she said.
“Congratulations on your win,” Kassimeigh said to Coco, standing and offering her hand.
“Thank you.” Coco shook the hand.
Kassimeigh nodded to Night, who nodded back.
There was an awkward pause. Élan wasn’t sure how to introduce Kassimeigh, who might prefer to remain incognito. Since they didn’t know her, they knew she wasn’t a bard, or associated with the entertainment industry. Nor was she a major benefactor of the arts. How else to explain her presence?
Kassimeigh relieved her of the conundrum. “I’m a friend of Élan’s. We recently worked together. I’m a justice.”
Coco and Night both instantly wore expressions of avid interest.
“Oh, this night just keeps getting better and better,” Coco said with a grin.
“Thank you,” Night said.
Coco made a pff sound at him. “Stop that. I meant ‘night’ as in evening, not you. That’s a really old one.”
Élan knew that as long as it amused him, he’d keep on with that joke. Never mind that it had stopped amusing anyone else ages ago.
“It’s nice to meet close friends of Élan’s. So far, I’ve only met Sim. Is he here tonight?” Kassimeigh asked.
“No.” Coco shook her head. “I could only invite two guests, which is supposedly why Night and Élan are here. Supporting their friend, and all.” One corner of her mouth kicked up in a half smile. “I had to promise to bring Sim next time, though.”
Kassimeigh nodded. “I understand you three are due out there for cocktails?”
Coco checked the time. “I am. Contractual obligations, and all. If Élan doesn’t want people trying to follow her home, she’d be smart to do some meet and greet of her own. Night always does whatever he feels like. Everyone knows better than to expect anything particular of him.”
Élan stood. “Out we go, then.”
For no reason in particular they chose the West room rather than the East. Élan saw Kassimeigh slip into the crowd, though how that woman blended in, she had no idea.
Now it was champagne time. Élan accepted a flute and when that one went empty, accepted another. She met, she greeted, chatted, and exchanged small talk. All the while, she kept an eye on Coco and watched for Jonas and his friend. After forty-five minutes, she suggested they move to the East room. It took twenty minutes just to get there, since they were constantly stopped along the way. Night stayed at the fringes, not exactly being antisocial, but not chattering like other people did. Élan was pretty sure he was looking out for her.
She spotted Jonas as soon as they got into the East room. He smiled
with relief when he saw her. He said something over his shoulder, then worked his way through the crowd. The East room was definitely more densely populated than the West had been.
“Élan! I didn’t think we’d find you in this crowd.”
A stocky guy with rugged good looks positioned himself next to Jonas. He had medium-brown hair and thin lips that stretched into an amiable smile.
“This is Kett Silver,” Jonas said with a small gesture toward the man.
Élan maneuvered them into a small circle to discourage others from breaking into their group. Finally her plan was working, and she wasn’t about to let some starry-eyed fan mess it up.
She noticed Kassimeigh just a few feet away, chatting with a prominent producer. Running interference for them, no doubt. Nice. It never hurt to have a shiv on your side.
Congratulations and compliments went around again, and Élan played the part of the gracious socialite, even though she was tired of it already. She didn’t like being fawned over. She redirected the attention to Coco whenever possible.
Kett took an obvious and immediate liking to Coco, which wasn’t surprising. What did surprise her was that Coco, the dream girl of a profusion of unsuccessful suitors, seemed to like him as well. Élan studied him objectively and supposed he was nice-enough looking and had a pleasant way of speaking. He must have a good sense of humor since he kept Coco laughing. Coco cared little about money or movie-star good looks, but she loved a guy who made her laugh.
Élan didn’t know if she should be pleased by the turn of events, or concerned for her friend. Jonas’ description of Kett hadn’t seemed like much of a recommendation. Though perhaps it was Jonas’ own bias, as someone who valued business and “productive” enterprises over scholarly ones. She’d try to keep an open mind. After all, Coco was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
Élan remained in performance mode, talking and smiling. Coco kept the conversation lively, and even Night contributed. She felt like they were both trying to help her in her efforts, even though they had no idea what she was doing. She hoped she did.
When dance music filtered into the room, they turned to see that the crowd had thinned. Coco tossed back the last of her champagne and set the empty flute on a table.
“Sounds like the dancing has begun. Shall we?” Coco cast a sidelong glance at Kett, along with a slow smile. Like he could possibly say no to that.
“You bet!” he said, just as Jonas replied, “Sure.”
Coco shifted and lifted her hands in a way that had each of the men offering her his arm. She shot Élan a cheeky grin over her shoulder as she “let” them lead her back to the ballroom.
Élan shared a look with Night, and he treated her to one of his rare smiles. “She’s a master, that’s for sure.” He offered Élan his arm.
She rested her hand on it. “The best,” she agreed. “There are none better.”
“Well, there’s one. But you rarely employ that particular talent these days.”
She laughed in surprise. She could never be as alluring as Coco. Her vibe was entirely different. Still, she appreciated Night’s compliment. He didn’t give out empty ones.
She tugged on his arm, prompting him to lean down so that she could kiss his cheek. “Thanks,” she said simply. For the compliment. For being here with her. For helping her, even though he had no idea why. She didn’t say that part, but knew he heard it.
“Anytime, sweet one. Let’s boogie.”
She laughed all the way to the ballroom.
Coco danced the first two songs with Kett and then Jonas before going to do her “contractually obligated” mingling. Élan watched her dance with a music producer, the lead actor of the latest action movie, and a parade of people she didn’t recognize. Hungry newcomers to the music business no doubt. People looking to capitalize on the talent and celebrity of bards to make money for themselves.
“What’s wrong?”
Night’s question jolted Élan out of her reverie, and she fastened her performance expression back onto her face. With any other dance partner, she’d insist nothing was wrong. Not with Night. “The industry. You know.”
He continued to guide her in a sedate slow dance. “You judge too harshly. They have a part to play, too, in getting music to the people who enjoy it. Most of the industry people are decent. Only a few bad apples.” The hand at her waist gave her a poke in the back. “You need to give up your prejudice.”
He had zero tolerance for lack of authenticity, so she knew he meant it. “I’ll try. I’m just jaded from my own experience, I suppose. I have to try to shake all of that off. Find a new beginning.”
“It’s way past time for that, but at least you’re finally getting to it. I love that you sang tonight.”
She smiled. “If there’s ever a next time, you’ll sing with me.”
“Deal.” His eyes tracked something over her head. “The fire goddess is on the move,” he murmured. Subtly, he reversed their positions. She saw Kassimeigh gliding around the edge of the dance floor, her skirt streaming behind her. Élan had never seen a shiv in a gown before. She tucked the image into a corner of her mind and vowed to ruminate on it later, for artistic purposes.
Kassimeigh’s path took her past a shiv, but she made no eye contact and didn’t pause. Élan thought she saw Kassimeigh’s lips move, but wasn’t sure. Kassimeigh approached the bar and spoke to the bartender. Anyone else would think the woman simply needed a drink. Élan didn’t know what Kassimeigh was up to, but it wasn’t a beverage.
Still, she watched Kassimeigh accept a short tumbler of something with a dark amber hue, then stand sipping it while she studied the crowd.
The song ended and Élan had to move on to another partner. Given her big reveal, she was almost as obligated as Coco to socialize. The task wasn’t as onerous as it could have been though. She knew that she could turn on her heel and leave any partner who annoyed her. She had no contract to worry about and no song to publicize. She also knew that Night and Kassimeigh were not far away, which was a comfort.
After a very long two hours of dancing, Coco appeared, along with Kett and Jonas. “Quick!” Coco whispered. “Let’s find Night and get out of here! I’ve done my duty and am ready to shazam.”
Swiftly, they made for the exit. Élan hummed a tune softly, letting mana flow through her and into the gentle tune. As the notes fell on the ears of each person that approached them with an expectant smile, the interloper looked upward at the ceiling in puzzlement. Their small group of five slipped right past the distracted people. Élan and Coco retrieved their protective foot covers at the concierge desk, and they all hurried out into the streets of Sanctuary.
“What was going on with the ceiling?” Kett asked. “People kept looking up.”
“Must have been a light show or something,” Élan suggested. Manahi were sometimes hired to provide entertainment at such events. Of course she knew that she’d planted an impression of impending rain, but the others didn’t need to know that. Sometimes, her modest mana talent came in really handy.
Coco slanted a smirk at Élan, who maintained a completely innocent expression. Now that they’d escaped the event, she began to relax, letting her performance persona slide away. She felt like a balloon slowly deflating to its normal size.
When they got to the end of the street, Coco asked, “Would you two like to come to Bob’s? I don’t really want to go to any of the after-parties. I’d rather just relax, have some drinks. Sit.” She blew out a breath. “All that dancing makes my feet sore.”
“Sure,” Kett agreed quickly.
“Sounds fun,” added Jonas.
The five of them strolled slowly through the merchant district of Sanctuary. This time of night, it was lit up with mana lanterns, which lined the roads at regular intervals. Most shops were closed, though restaurants and pubs remained open. Plenty of people roamed about still—even more than usual, due to the awards ceremony. But no one paid their little entourage any particular att
ention. Lots of noteworthy people regularly traveled around Sanctuary in their finery, particularly on such a night.
Élan felt a streak of mana flit by, but saw nothing. She frowned, peering down a dim alley, then shrugged.
A cheer went up when they entered Bob’s, and Élan and Coco laughingly accepted the congratulations and teases. They also accepted unending rounds of drinks, and shared them with Night, Jonas, and Kett. The two visitors seemed awed and impressed. No doubt they recognized a number of the bards enjoying the company at Bob’s that night.
The pit was occupied, so they settled onto the couch and side chairs on the far side of the sanctuary. Élan smoothed her skirt around her, then reconsidered and stood.
“Would you all excuse me for a few minutes? I’d love to change into something more comfortable.”
“Ooh, me too.” Coco bounced up and hooked her arm around Élan’s waist. “We won’t be but a few minutes. Help yourself to something at the bar if you’re hungry. The food’s fantastic. Tell them to put it on my bill.”
They whisked upstairs and to their rooms. It took Élan only a few minutes to tug off her gown and step into a loose, stretchy maxi dress. The soft fabric and relaxed fit was a wonderful relief after wearing formalwear for hours. She removed her jewelry and slid her feet into a pair of comfortable slippers.
Ahh. Much better. She loved dressing up, but after a few hours, she loved changing back to comfortable clothes even more.
She swept back downstairs and rejoined the men, who seemed content to relax and talk to one another. She picked up a small practice drum pad from a side table on her way back to them. The pad allowed a person to practice while making very little noise. A good way to maintain friendships, if you were a budding percussionist. Or even an already excellent one.
Night was explaining the security system as she took her seat beside him on the couch. She rested the drum pad on her lap. Coco hadn’t yet returned.
Kett smiled at her. “I didn’t realize you’d gone to Jonas’ party. He only told me about it when he invited me to meet up with you and Coco at the awards.”
