by Sharon Shinn
“They haven’t gone wrong yet,” I said. “We’ll get through this.”
She cheered up as I showed her the blond wig, and we spent a few minutes admiring how it changed my look once I put it on and arranged the false hair in exactly her style.
“Look at that,” she said, as we stood side by side before the mirror and gazed at our reflections. “You hardly even notice the differences in our faces. You might not need to wear a veil at all.”
“I still think a veil is a good idea,” I said. “But I admit this makes me feel better about the whole deception.”
She showed no inclination to join the other nobles in their afternoon activities. In fact, she’d already told a housemaid—speaking through the closed door—that she didn’t plan to leave her rooms until dinnertime. So I fetched a tray of food from the kitchen and brought it up so Marguerite and I could share a luncheon with the echoes.
We spent the rest of the afternoon dancing.
There was to be a ball the following night and Marguerite wanted to make sure I was as good as my boast. All four of us took off our shoes so we would make a limited amount of noise, then we lined up for a waltz. Patience and Purpose made up one pair, Marguerite and I another. As Marguerite hummed a simple song to give us the beat, we swung into the measures of the dance. Truth to tell, I was a little worried that my technique wouldn’t be as refined as that of a noblewoman’s, but apparently my dancing mistress had been as good as she claimed.
“Whoever taught you the steps did an excellent job!” Marguerite exclaimed after we’d practiced two numbers. Patience and Purpose spun and twirled beside us, their blank, pretty faces wearing faint smiles. Hard to know, but it seemed as if they were enjoying themselves. “Let’s try some of the reels and the other dances. If there’s anything that’s unfamiliar to you, let me know. I can always sit those out.”
There were only two that I didn’t recognize, though Marguerite said they weren’t very popular and might not even be performed. “But you’ll do just fine,” she said. “I’m so pleased.”
“What’s going to be the entertainment for tonight, do you know?”
She made a face. “Cards.”
I felt a flicker of apprehension. “Uh-oh. I only know the simple games, the ones children play. I don’t know any of the rules for the fancier games.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. You won’t need any skill for this. But I think you’ll find the evening deadly dull.”
In fact, as I had during our first evening at the palace, I rather enjoyed myself. Again, everyone gathered in one of the salons before dinner to laugh and flirt and gossip. Lady Elyssa’s injured echo was still too incapacitated to join her, but it didn’t seem to bother her. In fact, when Nigel tried to express his sympathy, she said in a sweet voice, “But, Nigel, I so much appreciate the chance to see how dreadful life always must be for the unfortunate people who only have two echoes to begin with.”
He made a strangled sound of displeasure and stalked off, his two echoes hurrying behind him. Elyssa turned her smiling face toward Marguerite. “It’s so easy to ruffle him,” she said. “It’s hardly even fun.”
Marguerite didn’t have to answer that because they were joined by two young men accompanied by three echoes each. Elyssa, who grew quite lively at their approach, greeted them enthusiastically and introduced them to Marguerite. One was from Banchura and one from Empara, and their triple echoes marked them as highly eligible. No wonder Elyssa was excited to see them.
“Shall we make a pact now that the four of us will sit together for the card games tonight?” she suggested.
“I don’t care about the games—I’m more interested in securing your promises that you’ll dance with me tomorrow. Both of you,” said the one from Banchura, a dark-haired fellow with a deep scar through one eyebrow. Probably a souvenir of a childhood accident. As discreetly as I could, I let my gaze wander to the faces of his echoes, to find them all similarly marked. If this young man had fallen and cut his face open, had the echoes all fallen at the same time, with the same results? Or had he received a singular blow to the head, an unfortunate slice on the face, that wasn’t repeated on his echoes? Had the wounds just magically opened up in their own skin, even if no harm was visited upon their bodies? I would have to ask Marguerite.
“I’d love to dance with you—half the night, if you like,” Elyssa replied.
“I’m not sure I can spare half the night, but I’d be happy to be your partner as well,” Marguerite said.
“And mine,” the other noble interjected. Even without a scar, he wasn’t as attractive as his friend, though he wasn’t exactly homely; merely, he had a somewhat nondescript look about him. If it would ever be possible to overlook a man trailed by three identical shadows, he was the sort of person it would be easy to ignore. “I might not be as smooth as Deryk in extending invitations, but I’m more likely to be sober.”
“That’s true,” Elyssa said to Marguerite. “But Deryk is funnier, so it all evens out.”
“Funnier and meaner,” Deryk answered. “Let me tell you what I learned today about that ghastly girl from Thelleron.”
“Vivienne?” said Elyssa in a mocking voice. “Oh, yes, please.”
“You’ll have to tell me some other time. I must go say hello to Darrily,” Marguerite spoke up, waving at someone across the room. My guess was that she didn’t like Deryk’s tone, or the fact that he seemed to enjoy Elyssa’s company. I admired the neat way she extricated herself from the conversation.
We were only halfway across the room when a footman came in to announce dinner, so Marguerite didn’t get a chance to talk to Darrily. We all filed into the dining hall we’d used the first night, and dinner was served as it had been that night as well. I felt more at ease this time and better able to enjoy my food, which was delicious.
Afterward we convened in a long, well-lit room set with a couple dozen small four-person tables. I followed faithfully behind Purpose while I tried to figure out the layout. I quickly realized that the center of the room held six of those four-person tables, lined up in two rows of three, and that was where all the nobles would sit. For each one of the nobles’ tables, three echoes’ tables had been set up in one straight line. I watched in fascination as the card players gradually settled into their chairs, all the echoes sitting in the exact same spots as their originals, just one or two or three tables away.
As always, I was in the outer ring, which meant I had a good view of the entire room—and even more important, a clear view of Purpose’s back, so I could mimic her movements. There was one empty chair at my table, meaning one of the men at Marguerite’s table had only two echoes. But one of the other echoes was a perfect replica of Prince Cormac, who apparently had chosen to seat himself to Marguerite’s left. At some signal I missed, the prince’s echo picked up a deck of cards from the center of the table and began to shuffle.
I tried not to rub my palms on my dress, but my hands were a little sweaty; this might be even more difficult than eating a meal, when everyone else was somewhat occupied with their own cutting and chewing. Here, I was in a small group and we were all staring at each other. A miscue would be more readily noticed.
Except echoes didn’t really stare. Or notice things. And they couldn’t speak up to question me if they did.
The echo dealt seven cards to each spot at the table, even the empty place. I waited for Purpose to pick up her cards before I reached for my own. And then it was all I could do to keep from laughing. They were blank. These were special decks, manufactured simply to allow echoes to play games with the exact same props and gestures as their masters. Who would ever have thought up such a thing?
Cormac’s echo laid a card down in the middle of the table, and the female echo across from me did the same. I waited until Purpose put down her own card before I put mine down as well. All three of us paused for the length of time it should have taken our fourth player to select a card, then the female echo gathered up the hand. Then it was her turn to
lead.
It was the most bizarre experience of my life to date.
It was tempting—so tempting—to play out of order, to refuse to deal when it was my turn, to gather up a hand even if Marguerite hadn’t won it. Would the echoes look at me askance, tilt their pale faces toward me in puzzled wonder? Would they be bewildered, thrown off their rhythm, incited to a level of uneasiness so great that it caught the attention of their originals? I didn’t do it, even though I suspected the echoes would not respond in any way. But there were servants moving among the tables, filling water glasses and offering plates of sweets, and they might notice if I behaved out of character. We were so much at risk that it would be suicidal to do anything that might draw attention to me or to Marguerite. But I did wish I might have the chance.
We had been playing for maybe a half hour when all the men—originals and echoes—came to their feet. I sat back in slight alarm, but it turned out they were merely moving to the next table so that, by the time the night was over, all the men would have had a chance to play in company with all the women. I had to suppress a groan as I quickly calculated that, if they spent thirty minutes at each table, we would be playing cards for three hours.
Marguerite had been right after all. I was beginning to be as bored as I’d ever been in my life.
Things got a little more interesting, and a little more unsettled, when Lord Deryk’s echo took his place on my right. While the other lords had been animated and friendly, judging by the behavior of their echoes, Deryk was in exceptionally high spirits. He went through two glasses of wine before the first two hands were dealt, chugging them down so quickly the servers had to scurry over to refill them. My guess was that he had been imbibing pretty heavily ever since the game began—and so had his echoes. The one sitting by me seemed completely intoxicated. His gestures were broad and careless, his smile loose and wide, his whole demeanor unsteady. Pretty soon I was forced to pull half my attention from Purpose and focus it on Deryk’s echo just in case he did something outrageous.
He didn’t, but he did grow increasingly sloppy, with the result that when he shifted positions in his chair, he accidently kicked me in the leg. I thought I heard Marguerite’s soft gasp of pain, Deryk’s hastily muttered apology, and then his echo was grabbing my hand and planting a wet kiss on my knuckles. I was so annoyed I wanted to wrench my arm away, but Marguerite and the echoes merely endured the unwelcome touch in what seemed like frigid silence, so I let my hand lie listlessly in his grasp. A moment only, then he released me, and play resumed.
I thought perhaps Deryk would now display a bit more decorum, but that didn’t prove to be the case. Five minutes later, when a footman came by with wine, the lord was quick to request more. I was glad to see Purpose shake her head in the negative when the server offered to refill her glass. Like me, I was certain Marguerite was wishing this night would soon come to an end.
Five minutes later, it almost did. At the main table, Deryk had hitched himself forward in his chair to tell a story that required a great deal of gesticulating and laughter, and naturally his echoes all did the same. One swipe of their hands knocked over their wineglasses, and I instinctively leapt to my feet to spare my dress.
No one else was standing.
Not Purpose. Not Patience. Not Marguerite.
I stood there motionless for the longest moment of my life, while the echoes at my table stared at me and footmen throughout the room stared at me and the nobles at their gaming tables stared at me. An independent echo. A creature who did not exist. We were exposed. We were doomed.
The room was utterly silent. Not a whisper of conversation, not a clink of glassware, not a flutter from a shuffled deck of cards.
Then slowly, deliberately, Purpose came to her feet, brushing at the front of her dress, which was stained with a few drops of wine. A moment later, Patience stood up, making no attempt to replicate either my pose or the one that Purpose held. Finally, Marguerite rose and glanced around the room.
Now everyone was staring at her.
“Your echoes,” said the lady sitting at the table with her. Her voice was thick with awe. “They have minds of their own?”
“Hardly that,” Marguerite said in an easy, offhand way. “They are capable of some individual motion, but only when I choose to release them. Mostly I control them—” She snapped her fingers, and the three of us instantly adopted her exact stance. “But when I’m alone, or when I’m very tired, or when I’m upset—” Here we all paused to turn accusing looks on Lord Deryk and his shadows. “Sometimes I let them go.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” someone else said.
Rescue came from the most unexpected quarter. “Then you’ve been living in some unsophisticated backwater,” said Lady Elyssa. She came to her feet in a graceful surge of glittering gold satin, tossing back her black hair and smiling contemptuously. Her two echoes kept to their seats, their hands folded before them on the table, their eyes gazing downward. “It’s a common enough thing among people who have particularly fine command of their thoughts.”
Now she made a sharp gesture and her echoes leapt up and instantly, seamlessly, began copying her again. “But generally speaking, I find life less tedious when I don’t have to wonder if my echoes are behaving themselves,” Elyssa added with a throaty laugh. “So I usually don’t give them freedom.”
She and her echoes sank back to their seats, and after a moment of strained silence, the nobles returned to their card games. But there was a great deal of whispering around the room, a good number of surreptitious glances thrown in our direction. I spent the next hour scrupulously following every move that Purpose made, but I was relieved beyond description when Prince Cormac and his echoes pushed back from the table and stood up.
“This has been a very instructive evening,” he said, in a tone that indicated it was now concluded. “Thank you all for a most enjoyable time.”
The rest of the nobles were dropping their cards, standing up, and starting to mill around as Cormac made his way over to Marguerite. “I wanted to offer my apologies on Deryk’s behalf,” he said. His echoes all showed faces of grave regret to Patience, Purpose, and me. “His spirits are often high, but he is usually more entertaining than disruptive. I am sorry if he made you uncomfortable.”
She offered him a composed smile. “I assure you, this is not the first time some inebriated noble has spilled a little wine on my dress,” she said. “I am entirely recovered from the incident.”
“That’s gracious,” he replied. “But I hope you fare better tomorrow night at the ball, and that your evening is one of unalloyed delight.”
Her smile widened. “I hope so, too.”
He bowed over her hand, she curtseyed, and all their echoes played along. He turned to make goodbyes to a few of the other guests, and she said her own farewells to her particular friends. Finally, we were out the door, heading down the hallways and up the stairs to the safety of Marguerite’s room.
The minute the door was locked, we all loosed soft wails of horror and collapsed into each other’s arms. We stood there the longest time, huddled together, rocking back and forth, and trying to hold back tears.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” I said over and over again, while Marguerite clutched my cold hands with her own icy fingers and said, “It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s all right.”
At last, I straightened up and wiped my dripping nose. “I almost ruined everything,” I said. “After all the times I’ve told you to be strong, to be careful, I’m the one who behaved stupidly.”
She shook her head. She flicked a hand at the echoes and they moved over to sit on one of the couches. Marguerite and I still stood by the door, taking deep breaths and trying to calm our nerves.
“We’re both going to make mistakes,” she said. “We know it’s going to happen. We just have to recover quickly, like we did tonight.”
“Releasing the echoes. That was brilliant,” I said. “I was so stunned I neve
r would have thought of it.”
She turned her head to look at the echoes. Patience had slumped against the cushions and was half asleep, but Purpose was bent forward, picking at the stain on her dress. “I didn’t,” she said.
“What?”
“I didn’t let them go. Not consciously. Purpose is the one who figured it out. She’s the one who saved us all.”
Now I was the one to turn and stare. Purpose gave up trying to rub away the stain; now she sagged next to Patience and closed her eyes. “How is that possible?” I whispered.
Marguerite shook her head. “I don’t know.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I slept badly and woke in my own small room feeling worried and unrefreshed. To my surprise, Marguerite seemed to have passed a better night than I had, for she was oddly cheerful when I arrived at her door. She and the echoes were already dressed, but in their simplest clothes; clearly, she intended to skip the morning’s social events, as had already become her habit in three short days.
“Let’s go to the market,” she said, “and buy flowers for the ball.”
The last time we had been there, Nico had showed us the way and a hired conveyance had carried us back, but the route was fairly straightforward and I was pretty sure I could find the place again. But we hadn’t been walking for more than three blocks when Marguerite said, “Let’s go to the temple first.”
I was behind her, so she couldn’t see the reproach on my face. But she could hear it in my voice. “My lady. There hasn’t been time for Taeline to send a reply yet.”
“I know,” she said. “I just want to go.”
So we changed course and headed to the three-towered temple instead. Once again, we crossed the bridge, circled the building, and entered through the door for mercy, taking our seats near the back of the round room. Once again, I tried to maintain a pious expression as I surreptitiously glanced at the other penitents gathered in this wing of the sanctuary. I wondered if any of them could be praying for absolution for crimes that were as heinous as ours. The young woman with the sleeping baby on her lap—did she feel guilty for cuckolding her feckless husband, or had she poisoned his soup because he beat her when he was drunk? Perhaps the elderly man with the palsied hands had pushed his demented wife down the stairs because he was no longer hearty enough to care for her and death seemed preferable to a precarious existence. I stared for some time at a handsome professional man who might have been twenty-five. He looked strong enough to strangle a rival and smart enough to embezzle funds. It was impossible to judge from their faces what secrets they carried in their hearts.
