The Veiled Diplomat

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  And the whole setup made him feel odd. The little theater had all the accoutrements of a larger one, but done in miniature. Even Skylar, who had the smallest hips of the group, couldn't wiggle her way into the seats. As they worked, he noticed more details like the balcony and the loge boxes that were too small for anyone to fit inside.

  When they'd first arrived, Portia pointed out—with far more glee than horror—that the designs in the scrolling were misshapen skeletons and gaping-mouthed skulls. The whole theater had a madhouse feel to it beneath the gilded exterior.

  "It's almost like there were two designers, warring with each other," had said Portia as she'd run her hands across the detailed scrolling.

  Petri, on the other hand, seemed completely muted during their preparations. She was in charge of the makeup desk, and had the most detailed work to paint onto her face, so Zayn hadn't seen her much, but she carried herself with a sense of dread. While it warmed Zayn's heart to know that Petri wasn't ready for the year to be over, that she'd enjoyed her time—however fleeting—with them, he worried about what it meant for her as a powerful supernatural being.

  His worry doubled when he heard a thump of a fist against wood in the back area, followed by a powerful wave of angst that left him cross-eyed for a few painful seconds. Zayn checked to make sure he was still wearing the brass bracelet.

  "Was that...?" asked Vin with his forehead wrinkled.

  "I'm going to check on her," said Zayn.

  Skylar was organizing the costumes, making last-second repairs with a needle and thread while his cousin was painting Portia silver for her role as the mythical Silver Queen. All three of them gave him looks of concern.

  When he found Petri, half her face had the stained glass panels drawn in with a black eyeliner pencil, but she was furiously rubbing away a line on her cheek with a rag.

  "Everything okay?"

  "Does it look okay?" she said, the words coming out like a jet of fire.

  "It looks great, actually," said Zayn, hoping to defuse her frustration.

  He sat next to Petri as she rubbed so hard she made her face contort.

  "You're going to rub your face right off," said Zayn, smiling, but she didn't return the gesture.

  Another wave of emotion slammed into him—fear mixed with a hollow dread. Zayn staggered on his stool. It was like being at the epicenter of an earthquake.

  Her eyes were dark with terror, so he fought through the dread, reached out, and captured her hands, pulling them away from her face. The psychic assault lessened but did not abate.

  "It's going to be okay," said Zayn.

  "No," she said, her voice carrying in his head like a million-watt megaphone. "It's not. I'm changing."

  Her fear was escalating in a feedback loop, spiraling higher and higher. Zayn felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff that was perched in the stratosphere.

  A tear formed in her eye as she looked at him. "Look what I'm doing to you. This is what I'm going to do to everyone. I remember last time. I remember the gas rolling across the battlefield, silencing the men in their trenches forever, tanks bursting through houses in a cloud of debris, storms of unnatural lightning charring men into pillars of ash, the blood and screams when the demons tore from the earth, the children with hollow bellies and eyes. That was me. Zayn, I don't want to be that person again."

  "You won't," said Zayn. "And that wasn't you."

  "You don't know that. You can't know that. I can't, I can't, I can't!"

  Sitting so close to her, he felt his mind tearing apart. It was like standing at the door of a blast furnace. The psychic winds blowing from her were tearing him apart. If she couldn't calm herself, he'd be torn to shreds.

  "Petri. I need you to think about when you're on stage"—a spike of fear—"when the audience is smiling and laughing and all the world loves you."

  She fought against her feelings, but it wasn't working. His thoughts were beginning to disintegrate.

  "Or think about Marley in your lap while you're eating a bowl of Fruity Fireballs, and Portia is on the other end of the couch singing a song from her favorite K-pop band," said Zayn breathlessly, and as he spoke, her emotional hurricane slowed, giving him a chance to keep going.

  "...and Vin has his leg up on the kitchen table as he's doing one of his limbering exercises while reading a spell book he's holding in his hand. Keelan's sitting on the fireplace hearth, a crackling fire at his back as he's whispering new spells into the tiny gears of an open-backed watch, while Skylar's thumbing through her cellphone snarking on the latest Giovanni Portellenne designs. And I'm—"

  When he referenced himself, a vein of their passionate night together opened briefly, but mostly he felt a keen admiration, like the awkward freshman having a crush on the popular senior, and realized that during this whole year mostly what she'd wanted was his attention.

  "And I'm sitting with you, and you're regaling me with the story of how you stole that car after we left your aunt Amber's store, and you tell me about the hilarious look on my face as you drove away."

  When he finished speaking, the emotional assault had subsided. She reached out, and he took her hand. They sat quietly for a time, during which the others came to check on them, but left without comment.

  After a while, her head came up as if she'd just realized something important.

  "Zayn," said Petri, eyes wide with understanding.

  "Yes?"

  "The Veil."

  A frisson of concern passed through him. "You know what you are?"

  "You shouldn't have brought me here," said Petri softly.

  "I was more worried about leaving you out."

  She squeezed his hand, a measure of thank you. "I'm sorry. Some things weren't apparent to me before. Now they are."

  "Why shouldn't we have brought you? If you know what you are, can't you do something about it?"

  Petri bit her lower lip. "Later, yes, but right now, I'm changing. I can't control it. I'm more of an amplifier. I really should leave."

  "We can't leave until after the play," said Zayn. "So until then you have to try and hold it together. I know this is hard, but please try."

  She squeezed her shoulders in and her face was pinched, but she nodded. The aloof girl who stole a car on her first day in the city seemed so far away. Growing up was like that, it hurt in all the ways you never expected.

  "We're here for a reason," he said, putting his hand on her arm. "I don't quite know what that reason is, but Priyanka pointed every sign she could at this place for us. And there's been weird things with the seers and prophecies, a lack of consensus. I think someone, or something, has figured out how to hide their intentions."

  Which interested Zayn for more reasons than the safety of the Hundred Halls. It might be a technique he could use against the Lady of Varna, so he had to stay, even if it was only to learn that one thing.

  "I feel something as well," said Petri, her face contorted with thought. "I can taste it. It's acrid like blasted soil and torn steel. I hear screaming in the distance."

  "I'd look around, but these damn guards won't let me past," said Zayn.

  Petri's face broke into a smile like a spot of sunlight slipping through the clouds. His face warmed.

  "Zayn...the Veil."

  "What about it?"

  "Go there," she said.

  "You know about that?"

  She blinked. "I'm remembering that you woke me."

  "But I can't just walk around here in the Veil. I'm not supposed to stay long," he said.

  Petri patted his hand like a grandmother consoling a weepy child. "You already woke me. And as for the other things that live there, I'm their queen, so while you're with me, nothing will bother you. Go, explore the embassy. Find out what's going on. I'll stay here and let the others know."

  He almost bowed, which seemed strange to him, until he realized that in that moment, she held herself as royalty. The impression didn't last long, as Petri was still finding herself, but he
sensed the various possibilities of who she might become. It was both wonderful and frightening.

  "I will. Thank you," he said, and they fell into a hug.

  She squeezed him tight, and whispered in his ear, "No, thank you."

  A glistening tear had formed in the corner of her eye, threatening to streak down and smear her makeup, so he reached out and dabbed it away, bringing a smile to her lips like sunlight hitting a spring-fed pond.

  "Be quick, and come back safe. And don't leave the structure of the building. Eldritch magics hem this place in like a fortress," she said.

  "Yes, my Queen," he said with a wink.

  When he shifted into the Veil and the walls turned wavery like a blacktop road in the desert, he was stunned. Amber had called her Rain After Dry Spell, or Petrichor. While this name fit, it did not adequately describe her.

  Petri was both fell and beautiful, much in the way a summer storm might wash away a village in a flood, but also provide nourishing silt to a fallow field. She was the lightning strike that killed, but also the wonderous electricity as it streaked across the sky. She was dark and terrible, and also at a crossroads, and Zayn knew that whatever happened in the Embassy of the Diamond Court would change the world forever.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Diamond Court Embassy, May 2016

  The real price of diplomacy

  As Zayn moved through the embassy by way of the Veil, it didn't take long for him to realize the tiny theater was a separate part of the structure. Rooms nearby had maetrie guards and closed doors, which meant he couldn't easily explore, but the difference in architecture suggested they were the apartments of Prince Orráine.

  The three courts held their place in maetrie society. The Ruby Court consorted with the criminal element, the Jade Court controlled high technology and magic, and the Diamond represented the wealthy interests of the Eternal City. The rest of the embassy met the traditional view of the Diamond Court: a palette of gold and white revealing opulence and excess.

  Guests had already begun to filter into the building. Zayn noted a few patrons of minor halls, Aleister Cornwall, who was the mayor of Invictus, Camille Caldwell, the owner of the Herald of the Halls, important mages from the city, minor celebrities, and dignitaries. Zayn even saw Instructor Konig, who looked out of place with his bushy mustache and look of wide-eyed wonder.

  They milled about the Grand Hall. Along the walls, display boxes beneath glass showed off important artifacts from the Diamond Court's history. The display boxes themselves were exquisitely made of dark witchwood edged in golden vents. Most of the artifacts in the cases were jeweled chalices, gem-studded crowns, or other gaudy items that were rarely functional. Zayn had watched a documentary about the Vatican, and the display of wealth reminded him of it.

  It was strange to wander amongst them without receiving so much as a glance sideways. If circumstances were different, he would have enjoyed staying to covertly listen to their conversations, but he felt like what he needed to find was not in the Grand Hall, so he searched the side passages looking for unguarded doors.

  After a few rounds of the main area he heard a rumble of voices from across the room. He looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered maetrie march into the room with a jeweled scepter in one hand and a retinue following him. There was no doubt in his mind that it was Prince Aethalstar, though his size and physical presence defied Zayn's expectations of the lithe race. His clothing was militaristic, unlike the softer robes of the other maetrie. His retinue included the maetrie guards Zayn had evaded on his first visit to the unfinished embassy: Captia and Precept.

  Prince Aethalstar strode through the room like a rock star, greeting his guests in the glad-handing style of a human politician. Zayn had noted that the guests each wore identical brooches, which he assumed were protections from the maetrie's latent charms, but they did nothing against the prince's natural charisma.

  Zayn stayed near the prince, hoping to catch something of interest, but the exchanges were uninteresting. What was of more interest was the way Captia and Precept seemed to note the crowd with their eyes, a mixture of thoughtfulness and concern. Whatever was going on behind their eyes, it left Zayn biting his lower lip.

  When the prince was about halfway finished working the room, he whispered something to Captia, and she grabbed Precept and headed towards a side passage. Zayn hurried to catch up to the fast-walking maetrie guards.

  As they neared a doorway, Zayn sidled up behind them, matching them lockstep, not only to hide his footfalls, but to keep him close enough to slip through the door behind them. Zayn focused on keeping his feet only inches from Precept's. The guards swung open the door and the two maetrie went right through.

  A few strides into the next hallway, Precept halted. Zayn seized up every muscle to keep himself from crashing into the maetrie, who then spun on his heels to glare directly behind him.

  Zayn had just taken a breath, and desperately wanted to exhale, but the gold-flecked gray eyes of Precept searched the hallway only inches away from him. Perched on the balls of his feet, while his heartbeat thundered in his ears, Zayn expected Precept to reach out and bump into him at any moment.

  "What's wrong?" asked Captia, who had paused further down.

  Precept squinted. "I don't know. I felt a trickle of wind against my back, and thought I heard a foot scuff. It all feels so familiar..."

  Zayn turned his body like a ballet dancer—silently thanking Instructor Allgood for the years of work in the dojo—while balancing on one foot until he had pressed his back against the wall. Still holding his breath, he sucked his gut in, making himself as small as possible.

  "Do you remember the intruder we chased at the beginning of the year?" asked Precept.

  Captia grumbled. "My failure to apprehend the individual still burns."

  "This feels similar," said Precept, still searching the short hallway with his eyes as if he expected to catch a sign of Zayn.

  "Let it go, Precept. There is no way to reliably stay unseen for this long," said Captia confidently.

  "But yet..."

  "We have a timetable," said Captia.

  Shaking his head, Precept followed Captia, glancing back a few times before they turned down another hallway. Zayn allowed himself to breathe finally, clenching his hands to make the shaking stop.

  The two maetrie went ahead, and Zayn followed from a more comfortable distance. When they went into a storage room, closing the door behind them, Zayn put his ear against it. He caught sounds of something mechanical, then the finality of a click.

  After waiting a minute, Zayn dared to open the door, half expecting the two maetrie to be waiting on the other side, but it was a room filled with shelves containing the brooches he'd seen the guests wearing. Zayn shoved a couple in his pocket in case he needed them later. There was no sign of Precept or Captia, which meant there was a secret door in the room. Zayn felt around the walls, before eventually finding a hidden panel with a keypad beneath. The fifteen buttons each had a maetrie hieroglyph.

  Zayn brought himself out of the Veil, before casting a spell that would allow him to see heat signatures. Six of the buttons glowed faintly. He didn't know the maetrie hieroglyph language, so he couldn't determine which order to press them in.

  He stared at the buttons, scratching his head, trying to determine how to figure out the order, when the wall split open. Zayn barely fled back into the Veil before Precept and Captia came walking back into the room.

  "...wish he would have told us this plan before," said Precept.

  "You should understand the reason why he could not," said Captia, stepping into the storage room. "And it is not for us to question him, only to obey."

  "I would never question him," said Precept. "He has my utmost loyalty, but I hope he is prepared for what is to come."

  "When the coronation begins, then we shall know," said Captia. "Come, there's nothing more to do."

  Before Captia could punch a button, closing the door, Zayn slippe
d through it. The wall shut behind him, leaving him in darkness. He sensed a vast room.

  As his eyes adjusted, he noticed there was a faint reddish light in the room. Based on their conversation, Zayn guessed no one else knew about this location, so he dared a magelight. As the ghostly illumination flooded into the room, his breath left him.

  Zayn stood on a balcony above a massive room. When the embassy had been built, the talk in the city had been about how quickly they'd constructed such a massive building. Looking into the room that went down multiple levels, Zayn could only think about how wrong they were. The embassy was larger below the city than above it.

  It looked like a silo going down, with floors as far as the light revealed. Zayn hurried down the first set of stairs, coming face-to-face with a room full of bone men with gemstone eyes. There were thousands upon thousands of them. They looked grown, like the pillars. Bone magic was a particular skill of the Diamond Court, but he didn’t know it could happen on such scale.

  Zayn remembered that the maetrie assassin Kavano had told them that Prince Aethalstar had cornered the gemstone market. Kavano had thought this foolish, but now Zayn understood why. These gemstones could give sentient life to inanimate objects. In the Eternal City, the faeila had chips of them as eyes.

  "It's an army," said Zayn, breathlessly.

  Not only was it an army, but it was an army without thought, with no way to give away their intentions. A surprise invasion was thought impossible because it required the coordination of too many people. Prince Aethalstar had gotten around that problem by creating an army that didn't think, and he hadn't told his trusted lieutenants about his plan until the last possible moment.

  Everyone else within the Diamond Court probably thought this was a party for the prince as well, which hid the true reason. And the guest list ensured that there were less people to defend the city, as well as provided prisoners to ensure compliance later.

  Zayn wondered if this was what Priyanka had suspected. It seemed odd that none of the patrons of major halls were in attendance, which suggested they had been concerned.