Echo in Onyx

by Sharon Shinn

  Despite the circumstances—the memory of murder, the fear of discovery, and an oppressive sense of impending disaster—I found myself feeling a growing sense of excitement. I was about to join a roomful of high nobles and eat my dinner in the presence of the prince. Whatever else I had expected my new life to bring me, it certainly hadn’t been this. I had to make sure my smile was no broader than Marguerite’s as I followed her out the door and down to the royal dining hall for our first meal at the palace.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It turns out that a servant isn’t the most invisible creature in a nobleman’s house. An echo is.

  Marguerite and the rest of us first circulated through a large parlor sparsely furnished with chairs and stuffed full of people. So many people! It was impossible to count the numbers because they were all in motion, waving to friends or stepping over to greet new arrivals—and because they were all trailed by echoes who pivoted and bowed and curtseyed behind them. A simple maneuver, such as crossing the room to secure a glass of wine, created a churn in the crowd as big as a ship’s wake passing through rough waters. Every movement created ripples of more movement. I could not imagine how everyone else was keeping their balance. I just fixed my eyes on the back of Marguerite’s head and followed her everywhere, Patience and Purpose at my elbows.

  From what I could tell, most of the people were about Marguerite’s age or a few years older; most seemed somewhat acquainted with each other. Orenza was strategically important, but located a significant distance from any major trade routes, and few of these lords and ladies had visited Oberton in the past. Marguerite was almost a complete unknown. Some of the nobles in the room ignored her, but others made a point of introducing themselves.

  “You’re the girl from Oberton, aren’t you? Everyone’s been curious to finally meet you,” was the careless greeting of a young woman with silky black hair and milky white skin. She wore a gown of the deepest shade of purple; clusters of amethysts hung from her throat, her ears, her wrists. My guess was that she was from Alberta, which took amethyst as its traditional stone, and her next words confirmed it. “I’m Elyssa, you know. The one nobody likes.” She threw her head back and laughed, and the two echoes with her did the same.

  “Surely the prince likes you, or he wouldn’t have invited you here,” Marguerite answered.

  “He likes the idea of keeping peace with Alberta,” Elyssa said cynically. “He likes the idea of making my father happy.”

  I was a little shocked by the woman’s plain speaking, but Marguerite merely answered, “Keeping the peace seems like an admirable goal.”

  “If you’re not the one being sacrificed to achieve that goal,” Elyssa said with the semblance of a sneer.

  I thought Marguerite might have some sympathy with that sentiment, though she would never say so in a gathering such as this. Before she came up with a response, our little group was enveloped in a cloud of blue satin. That was really what it felt like, as if a small, spinning cyclone of sky-colored fabric started swirling around us. Elyssa and her echoes instantly decamped. Marguerite and the rest of us were left in a circle of a dozen identical women, all of them blonder than Marguerite and all dressed exactly alike. It took me a moment of quick study to determine that three were originals and the rest were echoes.

  “You’re Marguerite, aren’t you? We’ve wanted to meet you forever,” said one of the young women, extending her hand to Marguerite. Three of the others simultaneously reached out to Purpose and Patience and me. The hand of the echo felt cool and insubstantial on my skin, as if I had been touched by a ghost in a midnight dream.

  “Oh—you must be the triplets from Banchura!” Marguerite exclaimed. “You’re quite famous, you know.”

  All twelve of them laughed. “Yes, I’m Leonora, that’s Lavinia, and that’s Letitia,” the first woman said. “But don’t worry about it. You’ll never be able to tell us apart. No one can.”

  “And your echoes—they’re dressed just the way you are.”

  Leonora grinned. “Usually at home we put them in paler gowns or different accessories, but we thought, well, we’re going to be so unusual here anyway, we might as well really play it up.”

  “Twelve of you—everywhere you go—that must be challenging,” Marguerite said.

  “Our father said that, when we were little, it was like having a huge litter of puppies tumbling through the house all day,” said Letitia.

  “That’s still sort of what it feels like,” Lavinia added.

  “Do your echoes ever get confused?” Marguerite asked.

  The triplets all shook their heads. So did their echoes. “No,” said Leonora. “Though when we were little, the nursemaids sometimes made mistakes and put the wrong echo with the wrong baby.”

  “And then we would cry and cry and cry until someone came back in and switched the echoes around again,” said Lavinia. “Finally our mother thought to tie different-colored ribbons on our wrists, and on our echoes. Three different shades of blue.”

  “That’s still how we dress today, when we want to be helpful,” said Letitia. “Leonora will wear navy, Lavinia will wear turquoise, and I’ll wear sky blue.”

  “You never put on other colors?”

  “Oh, of course,” Letitia said. “But then we usually all match.”

  “Those are the days we don’t want to be helpful,” Lavinia said, and they all burst out laughing again.

  “You make me wish I’d had a sister,” Marguerite said. “I only have brothers, and we don’t have much in common.”

  “We have two brothers, but neither of them has any echoes,” said Leonora. At least, I thought it was Leonora. There had been some shifting around during the conversation, and I’d started to lose track.

  “Well, you’d think they were each other’s echoes, they’re that close,” one of the others replied.

  “They banded together in self-defense,” Leonora explained. “Not that we blame them.”

  “But I feel bad for anyone who doesn’t have a sister,” one of the others said. “Only brothers! That would be dreadful.”

  Marguerite sighed. “And now I feel even sorrier for myself!”

  Lavinia turned toward her sisters and gave a brisk nod. All her echoes did the same. “I like her,” she said. While her sisters murmured an agreement, Lavinia turned back to Marguerite. “We were determined not to, you know, but Cormac said we should give you a chance.”

  Marguerite drew back a little. “Why would you not like me before you even met me?”

  “Because of Vivienne, of course,” said Letitia seriously. “We have known her forever, and we’ve always been friendly.”

  “Thelleron is so close to Banchura, you see,” Leonora explained. “There’s always been a lot of visiting between our provinces.”

  “So when word came that Cormac had broken off his engagement with her so he could marry you—”

  “We were very upset on her behalf.”

  Marguerite looked distressed. “But I’m not— There’s been no engagement announced between us. I hadn’t even met Prince Cormac until a few weeks ago—”

  “We know,” said Leonora, nodding wisely.

  “We realized none of it was your fault,” added Letitia.

  Lavinia made a rather rude noise. “Politicians and their scheming,” she said. “So we have decided to be nice to you after all.”

  “But of course we’re still going to be friends with Vivienne,” said Letitia.

  Marguerite took a deep breath. I assumed she was having trouble keeping up with the rapid-fire conversation of the triplets; I certainly was. “Is she here?” Marguerite asked.

  Leonora turned to take one quick glance around the room. “I haven’t seen her yet, but I know she was invited. I can’t even imagine how hard it will be for her to make an appearance every day and behave with some semblance of dignity.”

  “I hope she won’t hate me,” Marguerite said.

  “Vivienne’s too kind to hate anyone,” Letiti
a said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if her heart was broken.”

  At that Marguerite looked even more distressed, but she quickly hid the expression as the group was approached by a knot of men—two lords with five echoes between them.

  “As usual, the triplets find the most interesting person in the room and lay siege to her,” said the one with three echoes. He was tall and slim, with light brown hair and a pleasant smile. On his left hand he wore a thick gold signet ring with small garnets studding the rim. As garnet was the traditional stone of Sammerly, I supposed that was the province he hailed from, but I didn’t realize quite how exalted he was until he introduced himself. “Lady Marguerite. I’m Jordan. My family is so honored to have you come visit us, and I’m delighted to finally meet you.”

  “Prince Jordan,” she replied, dropping a curtsey to Cormac’s younger brother. Patience and Purpose and I curtseyed beside her.

  “Please, just call me Jordan,” he said. “I feel like I’m impersonating my brother whenever anyone uses my title.”

  “No one ever stands on ceremony with Jordan,” said Leonora.

  “He’s the nicest member of the whole royal family,” Lavinia added. “We like him a great deal.”

  The man who had strolled up with Jordan now showed us an easy smile. “I hope you like me,” he said. He was shorter and stockier than Jordan, with skin the color of ground cloves. I thought he must hail from Pandrea, the central province of the Seven Jewels, where most of the population was similarly dark. I’d met a few Pandreans when they stayed at the Barking Dog, but they were even rarer than echoes in Orenza. “I’m just as nice as Jordan is.”

  One of the triplets linked her arm with his, and her echoes promptly did the same with his echoes; she had one extra, so two of her echoes attached themselves to one of his. “You’re even nicer than he is because you’re not already engaged to be married to someone else,” she said.

  Jordan looked alarmed and the Pandrean man laughed. “I’m not!” Jordan said. “There have been no formal agreements.”

  “Nonsense. Everyone knows a marriage between Sammerly and Alberta is eminently desirable,” one of the triplets said.

  “If not so desirable to be married to Elyssa,” added another one.

  “Nothing’s settled yet,” Jordan said firmly.

  “I’m Dezmen, by the way,” the Pandrean man said. When Marguerite accepted his proffered hand, Purpose and I took the hands of his echoes; Patience extended her arm but didn’t seem to mind that no one was there to take it. I noticed that the echo who bowed to me never quite met my gaze before he stepped back behind Dezmen.

  “Marguerite,” she identified herself.

  “Are you enjoying yourself so far, Marguerite?”

  “I’ve only been here a couple of hours. I have to admit it is slightly—”

  “Overwhelming,” one of the triplets filled in. “We’re used to big crowds of people because we are a big crowd of people, and even we are feeling a bit bewildered.”

  “The trick is to find one or two people you rather like, or at least can tolerate, and just attach yourself to them at every function,” said Jordan.

  “Like Elyssa will attach herself to you?” Lavinia said sweetly. At least, I thought it was Lavinia.

  “I am sure she plans no such thing,” Jordan replied.

  “What makes her so bad?” Marguerite asked. “She introduced herself as the one everyone hates.”

  “Which is accurate enough,” Leonora responded.

  “She’s just hateful,” said another triplet, whom I decided was Letitia. Really, it was just as hard to identify them as it was to distinguish between Patience and Purpose. “She lies and she schemes—”

  “And she mocks and insults—” added Leonora.

  “She seems to enjoy making other people uncomfortable,” said Dezmen more temperately.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tortures animals for fun,” said Letitia.

  “So obviously, she shouldn’t be the one I attach myself to,” said Marguerite.

  “No!” said Lavinia. “But the three of us are all quite amusing—and Dezmen and Jordan are each charming in their own way—so you could do worse than to make us your friends.”

  “I’m grateful to have the chance,” she said. “I don’t know a soul here. I don’t even know who anyone else is.”

  “I can tell you that,” said Jordan. “I know everyone here.”

  “Oh, yes, let’s gossip about all the others,” said Leonora happily. “Anyone in particular you’re curious about?”

  Everyone in our group shifted slightly so they could gaze out at the assembled company. “That beautiful woman in the gold dress,” said Marguerite. “Who is she?”

  That made all our new friends laugh. “Dezmen’s sister Darrily!” Leonora exclaimed. “Isn’t she ravishing?”

  I had to squirm a little to peer over Marguerite’s shoulder to see who she was talking about, but the woman was easy to spot. She was dark-skinned like her brother, but much more incandescently dressed, in a gown of stiff gold fabric accented with falls of antique lace at the bosom and elbows. Her black hair was combed back in a severe style, leaving the sharp bones of her face exposed. On her forehead was a single teardrop-shaped opal, held in place with a gold chain pinned into her hair. Against the deep tones of her skin, the gem seemed to burn with a living fire. She was followed by two echoes also dressed in gold and ornamented with opals. They were, by any measure, the most striking creatures in the room.

  Dezmen gave an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. “Do you think people ever go up to Darrily and ask her who her beautiful brother is?” he said. “No. I assure you, it gets very tiresome very fast.”

  “Marry her off,” Jordan advised. “Then no one will trouble you anymore.”

  Leonora exclaimed with annoyance. “If you’re saying that a woman simply vanishes once she’s married, none of us will ever accept a proposal!”

  He made her a deep bow. “I cannot imagine that, whatever else happens to you once you’re wed, you will ever disappear.”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t intend to.”

  “Who else would you like to know about?” Dezmen asked. “Someone more interesting than my sister, I hope.”

  “I suppose you recognize Cormac,” Leonora added. The prince had just entered the room, trailed by his usual entourage.

  “Oh, yes! He was in Oberton just a few weeks ago.”

  “What did you think of him?” Lavinia wanted to know.

  “You can’t ask her that!” Jordan exclaimed. “She can’t possibly say anything except polite comments about how much she enjoyed his company, especially since I’m standing right here!”

  “No, but wouldn’t it be interesting if she could?”

  “Well, I for one am glad to see him,” Dezmen said, “because that means it’s time for dinner.”

  Indeed, not a minute later, one of the servants came in to announce the meal, and the whole crowd began to funnel through a door to an adjoining room. It turned out to be the largest dining hall I’d ever seen, and it was laid out in a unique fashion. In the center was one large rectangular table with eight place settings on the long sides and four on the shorter ones; it was laden with gold-rimmed china and heavy tumblers of sparkling leaded glass. Around this central board, on all four sides, were arranged two additional tables, one behind the other, set with plainer china and simpler goblets. I quickly realized that these secondary tables were meant for the echoes. If someone had only two echoes, one sat at the inner table and the other at the outer one; if there were three echoes, two sat at the outer one. As someone who had spent a fair amount of time arranging dinner tables for unwieldy groups, I was exhausted to think about the amount of effort that must have gone into calculating who would be placed where.

  The nobles filed toward the main table, chatting amiably, and took their places according to gilt-edged place cards. For all the topics Marguerite and I had discussed during our days in the coach
, we had never considered seating arrangements at formal dinners, so I didn’t know if I should sit directly behind Marguerite or farther back. Fortunately, Purpose—who was never at a loss—went straight toward the inner table, leaving Patience and me to take up spots behind her at the outer one.

  The meal was the most complex bit of choreographed action I had ever seen. Dozens of servants filed in, carrying steaming platters of food, and made every effort to serve the originals and their echoes at the same time. Whenever anyone at the central board lifted his fork or sipped from her wineglass, the appropriate shadows repeated the motions simultaneously. There was a constant ripple of motion, as if the main table was a colorful body of water and someone continually tossed pebbles into its depths, causing actions and reactions that spread outward from the middle.

  I had thought it might be difficult to keep up, especially since I was several rows back from Marguerite. But she progressed through her meal in a slow and logical manner, and I was able to copy Patience even when I couldn’t see what Marguerite was going to do next.

  Besides, no one was watching me. I was invisible. I might have become very visible very quickly if I deviated in any drastic way from Marguerite’s behavior, but for this night, at least, I didn’t. I was so tense I barely tasted my food, and I couldn’t have said if the liquid in my glass was water or wine. Judging by the slight giddiness that I started to experience halfway through the meal, it was wine; but Marguerite was careful to limit how much she drank. I imagined that, even more than I did, she knew how dangerous it would be to muddle her faculties this evening. Or ever, while we were in Camarria.