Masque (The Two Monarchies Sequence) Page 11

  “I expect the Watch took him away,” I said, my tone dampening.

  Not at all dampened, Keenan grinned. “Maybe he has a- a comp’ny of blackguards who are waiting for darkness to storm the keep.”

  “I certainly hope not,” I said, slipping my feet from under the covers to the floor. Vadim, spurred into remembrance of her duties, dashed to offer me my dressing gown. “Since Lord Quorn has never seen fit to fortify the ambassadorial quarters against the onslaught of a battalion, I can only assume they would succeed, and then where would we be?”

  “I’d protect yer,” declared Keenan stoutly. “I got a dagger, you know.”

  “I feel better already. I may need you later, Keenan; don’t wander far. Vadim, I suppose it would be too much to expect my breakfast?”

  Vadim grinned guiltily. “Sorry, m’lady. Keenan pinched-”

  “Levied!”

  “Pinched two muffins that cook just took out of the oven, and she kicked us out. She might have calmed down by now.”

  “Then you had better make sure cook supplies me with a side of muffins,” I observed, cocking a brow in Keenan’s direction. He grinned.

  Vadim, shooting him a nasty look, exited to fetch my breakfast.

  “Now,” I said meditatively, beckoning to Keenan; “I have another job for you.”

  I took to the streets later that morning, my highly recognisable hair cocooned in a green silk snood and my hat set at a saucy angle that conveniently concealed most of my face. I had a pretty good idea of the way Lord Pecus had taken me when we found Charles Black’s headquarters, and I wanted to do a little investigating on my own account. If it was not unusual for young society ladies to play at treason by attending the Charles Black meetings, it might well be possible for me to slip in and observe.

  Much to Vadim’s injured astonishment, I left her in my chambers. It didn’t seem likely that young ladies engaged in this kind of venture would take their maids along. Besides, I had no intention of putting the children in danger: getting Keenan to grease windowsills and cut ropes was one thing, but bringing them to what was likely to be a revolutionary meeting was quite another. The danger involved might be no more than the usual rush out the back door if the Watch showed up to drink an ale in the taproom, but it was the principle of the thing.

  As I walked the streets at a brisk march, the only immediate dangers seemed to be that of the threatening storm to my hat, and my one stiff ankle. The ankle could be cared for by a more moderate pace, and as for the hat; well, I had never been terribly fond of it. The streets were quiet and a little muggy, as if the city was waiting in silence for the storm to break around it. I had not yet experienced a Glausian storm: if the horselords were to be believed it was quite an occasion, and I felt a stirring of interest as I picked up my pace.

  Much to my satisfaction, I found my way back to the inn without a wrong turning. My satisfaction was destined to be short-lived, however: at the turning of the street I was politely stopped by an excessively good-looking young man, who, if I did not miss my guess, was one of Lord Pecus’ watchmen.

  “I’m sorry, my lady, but you can’t go down there.”

  I eyed him narrowly for a moment, and then enquired: “Lord Pecus’ orders?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “May I ask how you recognized me?”

  The hat should have covered my face sufficiently, and the snood hid the redness of my hair: in fact, I found myself impressed.

  The young guard grinned. “Lord Pecus said you would have a veil or a large hat. He also said you would cover your hair.”

  “Very well: I shall talk to you instead.”

  “Lord Pecus told me that you would flirt with me and try to persuade me to let you through,” the watchman said, with interest. He looked as if he were willing to be flirted with.

  I gave him a saucy smile. “How kind of you to put me on my guard! I do assure you, my dear sir, that were I minded to pass you I could do so without resorting to flirting.”

  The interest in the watchman’s eyes deepened. “I’d be willing to wager you cannot, my lady!”

  “No?” A sense of wicked amusement stole through me. “What will you wager?”

  “I’d wager my badge on it!” he said frankly. His blue eyes were crinkled at the edges in a mix of camaraderie and enjoyment, and I guessed shrewdly that he had many younger sisters. They were not, I devoutly hoped, as conniving as myself.

  “Very well. If I slip past you I shall keep your badge for a day. If I do not, you may name the stake you choose.”

  The blue eyes crinkled a little more. “I accept, my lady. Do your worst!”

  I retreated down the next street, my thoughts moving quickly. He was a clever young watchman: in fact, I was counting on him being a clever watchman. Clever enough to weigh options and come to the only decision he could reasonably come to. Hopefully Lord Pecus (who was turning out to be shrewd enough to bring enjoyment to the affair) had not been quite so fore-thoughtful as to provide the young man with instructions for what I was about to do.

  I had only to wait a few moments before I espied a possible mark approaching along the walkway. He wore a peaked hood, as if in preparation for the storm, but the manner in which he hurried along the street was most certainly surreptitious. He looked elderly and impressionable, much to my satisfaction. I took a breath, let it out again, and tripped up to him with a friendly and sufficiently vacant smile.

  “Oh, thank goodness! You must be here about the meeting, too!”

  The old gentleman stopped, momentarily confused. “Madam, can I help you?”

  “Oh, you know! Charles Black!” I opened my eyes wide, and then allowed my lashes to drop over them, blushing with all my might. “It’s so stupid of me! I’ve lost my way!”

  “Allow me,” said the old gentleman gallantly, offering his arm. I accepted it with a becoming simper. “I take it you haven’t been to one of the meetings before?”

  “Oh no! I have a particular friend who told me about them. Only I’m afraid she wasn’t very good with directions.”

  He patted my hand, beaming in the usual way of an old gentleman who is pleased to have a young woman on his arm. “You are safe with me, madam.”

  We walked right past the watchman, who was lounging casually in a shadowed stairwell, yawning with well-simulated disinterest. I saw his eyes flick toward us, admiration and resignation combined, because there was nothing he could do without frightening off the old gentleman. If I had so chosen, I could have walked into the meeting without being molested by the Watch, and he knew it. But he was a nice young watchman, and it wouldn’t be fair to expose him to the ridicule of his peers for failing to keep a nosey old maid outside his perimeter, so when the old gentleman and I were halfway down the street, I let out a distressful exclamation.

  “Oh no! I have forgot my veil!”

  In vain the old gentleman tried to expostulate that my face was too charming to be hid, and when that failed, that my hat concealed it admirably. Within a few moments I was back in the stairwell that concealed the watchman. He rose to meet me, his face rueful, and I held my hand out, palm up.

  “You’ll be the ruin of me, my lady!” he said, dropping his brass badge into my hand.

  “Nonsense. Another time you will know better, and you will have me to thank for it! You may call for your badge tomorrow, at the Ambassadorial Quarters: teatime precisely.”

  I sailed away serenely: more serenely, in fact, than I felt. It is so important to make the right impression on the right people. Besides, he really was terribly good-looking.

  Since Lord Pecus had ruined a perfectly good afternoon’s fun, I took my revenge in the only sensible way I could. I went to the Royal Library of Magic.

  The Royal Library of Magic is longer than it is high: a great, bleak monolithic structure built from huge slabs of black marble that are intended to give it a look of stately and learned magnificence. In reality, it gives the impression of glowering fiercely at the two building
s opposite it, as if crouched for attack. One is always surprised to see that the storefronts are still there the next day.

  It is very well kept on the inside: cold, shining marble floors and dustless bookshelves, each book in its proper order. I had visited the library many times during my sojourn in Glause, and each time I did so, I was surprised all over again at how much I disliked it. Libraries and bookstores ought always to have a decent amount of dust, and to smell pleasantly of mothballs. The Royal Library of Magic felt more like a hospital.

  I hoped, by a judicious examination of pertinent books, to discover somewhat more about Lord Pecus’ curse than I did at present. It is common knowledge that it is good policy to know as much as possible about one’s enemies: what is not as commonly known is that it is even better policy to know as much as possible about one’s allies. Lord Pecus had been surprisingly proficient in his knowledge of me, and I would dearly love to repay the favour at an opportune moment.

  Unfortunately for my plans, the Royal Library of Magic was less than enlightening. After a frustrating hour’s search, flipping through countless perfectly crisp pages, I was left wondering just where the Library kept its really interesting books. The ones on the shelves were a colourless, unhelpful lot that seemed concerned with magic only as it touched ethereal, high-minded theory.

  I left the library shortly before noon with something of an annoyed snap to my step. What a useless piece of infrastructure! Very well! We would see what else the Imperial City had to offer. I returned home briefly to fetch Vadim, who was quietly but fiercely pleased to be walking along with me, and sallied out again with a new determination.

  “I need a bookshop, Vadim,” I told her. I was beginning to have a very lively appreciation for her talent of knowing exactly where to find everything I asked of her.

  “Do you want to buy it, my lady?” Vadim’s tone suggested hopeful interest. Heavens! How rich did the child think I was?

  “No, Vadim: I wish to purchase a book. Perhaps several books. I shall know more once I have browsed.”

  “A proper bookshop, or a spiral bookshop?”

  “And by spiral, you mean-”

  “Magic,” Vadim nodded. “We say spiral because they go round and round and never end. No matter how small they are, when you get inside, they aren’t.”

  I allowed myself the pleasure of a put-upon sigh. I knew a little of magic buildings.

  “Don’t people complain?”

  “They do if they get out,” Vadim said cheerfully. “Missing people don’t complain.”

  “Oddly enough, I don’t find that at all comforting, Vadim. Very well, take me to a spiral bookshop. If we become lost and wanting for food, I can always eat you.”

  Vadim grinned. “Yes, m’lady. Keenan’s fatter, though.”

  “Undoubtedly we should have brought him,” I murmured. “However, it’s too late to turn back now: I only hope Lord Pecus appreciates the trouble I’m going to.”

  “Are you trying to annoy Lord Pecus, m’lady?” asked Vadim, unexpectedly perspicacious.

  “As much as possible,” I assured her. “If I can contrive to annoy the Earl of Horn also, I shall not consider the day to be wasted.”

  We had walked a street in silence before Vadim, whom I was discovering to be a quiet and penetrating thinker, asked: “I understand wanting to annoy the Earl of Horn, but why are we annoying Lord Pecus?”

  “Because he annoyed me earlier today, and I should not like to be backward in repaying the compliment. I wish to know a little more of him.”

  “He’s a good guv’nor,” Vadim said, unexpectedly. “Everyone says. My ma used to say that he takes it personal, people breaking the law, and around the Sinkhole they say if you do wrong he doesn’t leave the trail until he’s caught you.”

  “Like a bloodhound, I expect.” I was familiar with the forms of poetic exaggeration, and there was a satirical inflection to my voice, but Vadim answered me in all seriousness.

  “No, they call him the Wolf, or the Beast Lord. I think he looks more like a bear, though.”

  I looked down at her thoughtfully. “Why so?”

  “He has such big shoulders,” Vadim explained, expelling my first, startled thought that she was aware of Lord Pecus’ facial characteristics. I did not like the thought that I was one among many privy to the secret. It was grating enough that Ciara had known, and I wondered for a brief, cold moment if he had ever proposed to her. A moment’s rational reflection told me the answer: of course not, she would have jumped at the proposal.

  I found that my lip had curled, and hastily straightened it. Dear me. I seemed to have some rather strong feelings on the subject. I would have to take care.

  “You’re a positive fount of surprising information, Vadim: cultivate that talent, won’t you? What else does the Sinkhole District have to say about Lord Pecus?”

  Vadim’s eyes sparkled. “That he turns into a wolf every full moon and terrorises criminals.”

  “Dear me! How enterprising of him!”

  “He doesn’t really,” Vadim hastened to assure me, anxious that I should not be put off. “That’s just one of the dark ones that gets whispered when there’s been too much wine. Mostly they talk about his servants.”

  I found that we were ascending a set of stone stairs that lead to a dingy shopfront, and waited absently for Vadim to open the door for me.

  “What about his servants? Are they said to be cursed, too?”

  “No, m’lady,” said Vadim, cheerfully unaware of her duties with respect to the door. “I met a girl who was engaged to a lad whose sister works nearby, and she said that they all have to wear masks like him. What are we waiting for, m’lady?”

  My lips twitched. “I haven’t the faintest idea, Vadim. Let us proceed.”

  The door set a little bell tinkling somewhere in the depths of the store, and a breath of book-scented air wafted around us comfortingly. I took in a deep breath and gazed around me with approval.

  “This is exactly what I wanted, Vadim. Well done. I’m sure Lord Pecus will be pleased I took the time to research.”

  Vadim grinned, but said demurely: “Yes, m’lady! Oh, look! There’s the shopkeeper!”

  I looked in time to see a colourful vest disappear around the corner.

  “I should like to be prepared for Lord Pecus’ ball,” I pursued, declining to hurry after the bookseller and instead approaching the dusty counter.

  “Shouldn’t we follow him?” asked Vadim anxiously. She was bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet with a wholly misplaced zeal to be after the shopkeeper.

  “Certainly not!” I said calmly. “It’s the first trick. That, my dear Vadim, is the way one becomes lost in any type of magical building. A flash of a vest here, an invitingly crooked finger there, and before you know it, you’re lost.”

  I struck the tiny silver bell that was nestled among the dust, and a single, sweet tone rang out. The sound hung in the air, lightening the shop around us, but before it had time to fade, I heard Vadim gasp. I turned my head to find that the old bookseller was behind the counter as if he had always been there. Of course he had not, and there was no way for him to get there without either Vadim or I seeing him, but that was the third trick, after all.

  I smiled at him, my eyes twinkling, and saw the answering smile in his brown eyes.

  “Fourth trick?” I suggested invitingly, and he chuckled, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

  “Fourth trick!” he agreed.

  Vadim, her eyes very round, watched in silence as the old man thumped a book down on the counter. Dust flew into the air in giant tickly clouds but I refused to cough: it would only encourage him. As it was, he wriggled hairy eyebrows at me, and leaned forward over the desk.

  “How’d I do?”

  The book’s title read: Book of Interesting Excerpts in block letters, but when I opened it, the pages were blank.

  “I’ll be sure to let you know,” I said, shooting a look at him through my eyelashes.r />
  For a moment the bookseller tapped his fingers on the wooden counter, undecided; then he grinned.

  “Oh, all right. Say the name.”

  I folded my arms on the counter and leaned into it comfortably, ignoring the dust.

  “Lord Pecus,” I said to the snowy pages. There was a moment’s hesitation from the book before colour leeched into the pages and three words took form.

  Friend or foe?

  “I haven’t decided yet,” I said severely. “Well?”

  There was another pause, then a reproachful sentence sprawled into being.

  You’re supposed to say ‘friend’.

  “And how would you know if I wasn’t?”

  The book appeared to think about this, and then conceded: This is true. Very well, what would you like to know about Lord Pecus?

  I tilted my chin thoughtfully. “Family history first, I think. From ten generations ago, specifically as regards the Pecus curse.”

  All personal excerpts indicate that the Pecus curse wasn’t around ten generations ago. Would you like particulars on the curse, or on family history?

  “The curse, I rather think,” I said slowly, digesting the new information. My eyes flicked thoughtfully to the bookseller, who was leaning on his counter-top and smirking amiably at me, and then back down at the newly filled page of writing. I skimmed the series of fragments briefly, my lips moving silently, and then looked back up at the man with interest.

  “I believe the fourth trick is yours. Where did you find such a treasure?”

  He looked rueful, and, if I were not mistaken, slightly ashamed of himself. “Truly, lady, I inherited the shop. The books have been here longer than I: they don’t belong to me. Four tricks are all I have.”

  I didn’t for a moment believe it. I snapped the book shut and tapped my forefinger on the cover. “How much?”

  A smile swept across his face. “Fifth trick, lady. One copper.”

  I placed a copper on the counter with a snap and said curiously: “What is the catch?”

  “You’ll find out,” the shopkeeper said. There was a glint to his eyes that suggested he had a sixth trick, and that it would pop up at the most inconvenient moment, but I was inclined to risk it. “Good day, lady.”