by B B Reed
The touch to her arm made the writhing presence in her head thrash, and the witch took a deep breath, resting her fingers over Inka’s, “It’s fine. I’ve persevered in spite of it. Uhm, don’t you think it’s getting late? Lady Ravenwood may start to worry.”
“I suppose we should get back to the Spine.” Inka nodded, taking the witch’s hint with a gentle and patient smile.
XI
The Masquerade
Saris began the incantation, reading from her book as she loomed over the ritual circle, again in a tongue that was indistinguishable from any spoken language. The syllables and consonants hissed with their utterance, the room rattling down to its foundation with some kind of unseen force. Halena pressed her hands to the floorboards and took a steadying breath, the vibrations in the air and bones of the cottage absent and disorienting.
Her thoughts raced, limbs numbing more and more while she listened to a language no mortal tongue should speak. The chalk lines glowed with a dim light and candle flames danced with each abhorrent word uttered. Then, the bright hearts of the candle flames flickered black as the void. Saris was unfaltering in her recitation, unburdened by the spell of her dark sermon. The witch continued her entranced chanting even while her niece struggled at her feet.
She trembled, the room grew still, the house itself holding its breath in a foreboding vacuum. Saris paused, eyes glued to the pages of her tome, the first verse ending. Halena’s violet eyes went back to the pot in front of her as she felt the bend of reality begin anew with the reading of the dark script. The pot’s contents let off a fine, steaming mist like it was being reheated over the coal pan. The herbal, bloody fragrance trailed up to Halena’s nose and her muscles relaxed. The young witch’s head swam with the fumes, as if her consciousness reached out to the dark beyond of the night sky above them. The air grew thin, but the shallow slow rhythm of her lungs felt as rewarding as the purest breeze in the spring. Her body was paralyzed, protesting against the slightest twitch or tilt of the head, and her vision darkened. She gripped tight to her willpower buried deep in her chest, straining to focus on the final verse and complete her graduation.
◆◆◆
Ever the late riser, she woke to find the townhouse alive with the servants bustling to make preparations. However, Lady Jeanne was mostly absent for the morning as her staff catered to her needs with urgency. Halena returned to her room to change out of her night clothes and resume reading and notetaking, until Inka stopped her on the stairs.
“Have you cleaned up yet?” She asked, coming up beside the witch.
Halena shook her head, a puzzled look creasing her face, “No, why?”
Inka took her by the hand and hurried up the stairs, “For the masquerade. Come, you need to start getting ready!”
The witch tried fruitlessly to slip away from Inka’s grasp, dragged through the hall towards the master bedroom. Inka called into the great room, tripling the size of the guest room, “I found her!”
Lady Jeanne sat in a chair, covered once more in her silken blue robe while a handmaid ran a brush through her sable hair and cradling her long pipe in her fingers. She grinned at the witch, “Are you ready to step into the world of Arram nobility, dear? Get in a chair and we can begin.”
She pointed with the end of her pipe to a chair across from where she sat. Halena settled in, hesitant to protest, and twitched as another handmaid came up behind her, setting up cosmetics on the table. Lady Ravenwood inclined her head at the witch, “Relax. You need to look the part if you’re going to be my sleuth for the evening.”
Halena nodded and let out a tense breath, “Right.” Her hair came undone by the maid’s handiwork. She winced as the brush free rats from her mahogany tresses and her fingers curled into the fabric of her gown.
A wisp of smoke was blown through Jeanne’s lips as she watched Halena squirm in place, “Now, I have a list of nobles I need you to keep an eye on throughout the evening. These individuals were once Lady Doctus’ colleagues… and potential conspirators in her magickal experiments.”
“Anything you need me to determine from them?” The witch winced at the sting of yet more rats loosening from her hair.
“Strange charms, erratic behavior, unseen presences that our mere mortal eyes can’t discern. Anything you think may be subject to scrutiny for foul play with underhanded magick.” Lady Ravenwood suggested, crossing one leg over the other, “You need to watch other nobles that serve House Astor. Lord Vaughn has been making great pushes for unity between Astor and the newly formed House Traille, plus a peculiar interest in the Manin College’s resources. They’re easy to spot thanks to the lion crests they wear. On top of that, I’d like to know what kind of company Elle is going to keep at the ball.”
Inka peeked up from a case of cosmetic palettes, “You still believe Elspeth has anything to do with Lady Doctus?”
Lady Ravenwood gave an affirmative nod, taking another puff from her pipe. The handmaid started folding an elaborate braid behind her head while they all conversed. All the names of these powerful people weighed heavy on the witch, yet she continued to nod along to Jeanne’s instruction and anecdotes. With her hair braided into two loops tucked behind her head, Halena was faced towards a mirror on the table and the handmaid pulled the assortment of cosmetics closer, sitting and studying Halena’s face with confusion. The young woman glanced over to Lady Ravenwood, “My lady, does she need much? Her eyes are already painted. Shadow and eye liner won’t stand out much on the red color.”
Lady Ravenwood tapped her cheek, “Then you’ll do the rest that isn’t marked.”
Halena endured the teasing bristles from the beauty brushes and the cloth pads dabbed across her cheeks. Her pale complexion was accented with light rosy tints on her cheeks, a light layer of white powder applied to her pale face and her lips painted dark red. She could hardly recognize herself with the artfully braided hair and the features accented by the brushes. Jeanne caught her staring, a smirk pulling on her lip, “Admiring yourself, dear?”
Her eyes flicked over to Lady Ravenwood, “Ah… Perhaps a little. Is this normal for nobles to do? All of this paint seems excessive.”
Jeanne chortled, “It is customary for grand parties. On most other days, you’ll find these masques in thinner layers.”
The handmaid touched Halena’s shoulder, urging her to get up from her chair, “Let’s put on your dress.”
She stepped into the closet with the handmaid to dress. Jeanne rose out of her seat, letting her robe fall away from her shoulders, and Inka slipped out of the room to her quarters down the hall. Her assistant helped her into a frilled blouse, careful of the woman’s arm. A tie about the noble’s neck, tucked in a vest, and the assortment flaring over the petticoats under her skirt to make her hips shapely. A long-tailed coat was wrapped about her shoulders, one arm left loose to cover her sling. Halena shuffled out in the dark violet gown, panels of the cloth tuned to her willowy figure. Lady Ravenwood beamed at the sight, “Ah, a rare sight to behold. A witch in noble’s clothing.”
“That’s good, yes? I look the part?”
“Perfect, my dear. Except…” Lady Ravenwood pursed her lips, approaching Halena to size her up, “You don’t act it. Why are you so restless?”
The witch kept her eyes down, sheepish and timid as she argued with herself. She brought her eyes up to her lady, “I-I don’t think I can blend in. What if I attract too much attention, or my mask comes off? My face… It’s—”
“Stunning, Halena.” Lady Ravenwood interjected, “A masquerade could not be more fitting for our endeavors, for a small piece of obscurity is all we need to hide your worrisome brand.” She turned away to find the box with Halena’s mask resting inside, taking it from the package to offer to the witch.
“With this on, the world is left with the rest of your beauty to enjoy.” Lady Ravenwood wore a warm smile.
Halena held the mask gingerly in her shaking hands, “You are too kind, Lady Ravenwood…” She whispered, �
��…You think I can do this—that they won’t notice that I’m a witch?”
“With an aura of confidence that commands respect, they will see someone exotic and mysterious. It is the best kind of temptation that you can wield.” Lady Jeanne assured her, reaching out to give Halena’s shoulder a squeeze, “I have faith in you, dear.”
Halena blinked with awe washing over her face. Lady Ravenwood found her cane and made for the door, “Let’s go have some fun tonight, shall we?”
The witch nodded with newfound eagerness and slipped her mask over her face, following Jeanne to wait in the foyer. Inka’s footsteps clicked along the stairs, her own brilliant blue mask in her hands. A short dress of dyed azure feathers flared down from her hips, sleeves covering her arms and complete with blue stockings. She held the appearance of a dancer, the nose of her mask hooked just enough to complete the avian accents. A bright smile spread on her lips as she sees Halena’s full garb, “You look beautiful!”
“Thank you, Inka. You’re quite stunning too.” She smiled back.
Wallace twisted the handle on the front door and held it open, “Shall I expect a late night, my lady?”
Lady Jeanne grunted, “With luck, no wardrobe malfunctions or sour stomachs. Enjoy your evening of peace while it lasts, Wallace.”
The noblewoman winked at Wallace and shepherded the girls out into the street with a spring to her step as they walk under the glowing street lamps. In the lift cage, Jeanne ordered the attendant to go up to tier three. Halena inhaled a deep breath, the jolt of the lift no longer pulling at her nerves as they make their ascent up the tower of shining lights. Another tier higher in the small tower-town, another leap in the sheer amount of austerity and opulence of the district. Cobbles and sidewalks were clean enough to dine upon, and street lamps polished and bright. The doorways facing the street were all ornamented with polished brass details, some featuring small imitations of lawns gated off to the street. Jeanne directed her entourage through the sterile district up the lane towards a small mansion plucked from the ground and placed upon the towering echelons of Arras Ando. The gates were open, colorfully costumed men and women slowly funneling their way through the entrance into the mansion.
“What is this place, Lady Ravenwood?” Halena continued in her awe of the impossibility of the structure’s place within the Spine.
“The estate of Lord Vaughn of House Astor. Rather typical of their lot to keep a flashy eyesore in these cramped lanes.” Lady Ravenwood answered, her tone nonplussed by the locale. She paused on the sidewalk, pulling a long-nosed mask out, “Follow my lead until we’re inside, Halena. Remember what I told you and check in with me as the night goes. Let’s not forget the soul of the party, now.”
The noblewoman slipped the mask on and approached the gate. Lady Ravenwood reached into her coat for a neatly folded piece of parchment, producing it for the waiting staff. Once approved, the gentleman motioned to the front double doors, “Enjoy your evening, and please let the servants know if your needs aren’t met.”
The witch could not help to hold her breath as they passed the gates, her muscle sinews taut in anticipation. Her boss continued onward, head still high and shoulders back. Halena recalled Jeanne’s words and emulated her posture. They passed through the double doors into the estate’s foyer, moving with the river of colorfully dressed nobles. Two twisting staircases welcomed guests, an intricate coat of arms hanging between the stairs depicting a lion’s head and theatre masks at its feet, both radiating in brilliant purples and golds. Staff members directed the flow to the left, through another grand set of doors into a great room with high, vaulted ceilings. Ribbons decorated the columns of the great hall, round tables set through the back half of the room, the front half left strangely empty. Nobles dispersed inside, taking seats at the dining tables, amassing to the sides of the influx of traffic, or overflowing into the garden patio. The sight was magnificent, brilliant, and incredibly trying for Halena as her head spun from so many bodies and voices contained to a single room. Her arm is seized by Inka to keep her in step behind Lady Jeanne. The noblewoman stopped at a table with a folded card reading ‘Mistral’ sitting in the middle, giving the witch a concerned look, “Will you be okay?”
“Y-Yes, yes. I’m just… amazed.” Halena breathed finally, blinking behind her mask.
Lady Jeanne tapped Halena’s chin, “Try to keep your mouth closed when you do that. You’ll appear more charming.” She motioned to the table, “If you need anything, meet here. Now… Time for some professional politicking.”
The noblewoman took a deep breath, puffing her chest out and adjusted her blouse to deepen the plunge of her collar and put her chest on display. She sauntered off with her cane in hand towards the sea of party-goers, sneaking a glass of some sparkling drink from a servant’s plate. Halena watched her walk off, wringing her hands with uncertainty.
Inka offered a smile and took the woman’s wrists, lowering them to fold in front of her waist, “There. Walk around, have a drink. It’s a party after all, so try to have a little fun while you’re out.”
Halena nodded as Inka slinked off into the throng of feathers, frilled lace, and masks. Her fingers gripped tightly around her wrist and she made her own path, surveying the attendees. A number of the nobles wore lion faces that followed a violet color palette, and tended to be the most robustly dressed, clearly intended to draw attention. Another group wore avian masks shaped like bird beaks, colors ranging from dark royal blues to bright seafoam, and a number of them stopping to speak with Lady Jeanne. The third group of masks wore emerald shades of green and sharp shapes with pointed cat ears, by far the smallest group mingling in the crowd. A rise of clapping hands drew her attention away from the birds and lions to witness an arrival of ministers clad in yellow garb and adorning festive masks that all shared large furry ears, the long snouts of hounds. A woman’s voice chirped from the witch’s left as she spoke to her date, “Those Cabralen ministers always try to take the thunder of House Astor when they show up to parties. How petty!”
She hardly understood the grievance, watching the group disperse into the room. Hounds, birds, cats, and lions all mingled together as she waded her way through them all. Halena found it difficult to assert any further identity to the nobles aside from their themed headgear and saw an approaching servant with drinks. Emulating Lady Ravenwood, she snatched one for herself, holding it between her hands and indulged in a sampling sip. It tickled her nose and tongue as she drank.
“The drinks are quite divine, are they not?” A man’s voice asked her. She looked up from the bubbles, a gentleman with black locks draping down his shoulders, his doublet composed of red colors accented with yellows and a wolfish grin spread under a dog mask. Something was oddly familiar with him, especially the hair, yet the mask made it difficult to put her finger on it.
“Yes—Yes, they are quite the treat.” Halena answered in her best noble fashion, though her lack of smile made the attempt fall short.
He chuckled, swirling his own glass, “An interesting take on fine drinks, I see. Though, I’ve always considered company to be half of the enjoyment when it comes to wine.”
“Well… Who else are you going to tell of the flavor and aroma?” She toyed back, holding her glass closer to her chest. His voice rang familiar in her ears and she prodded him further, “Whom are you attending with? The hound masks appear to be the most recent additions to the party.”
The gentleman nods, “Why, House Cabral, of course. You must be with the Mistral houses, yes?”
Halena nodded, “I am. It seems my lady is having quite a time here.” She looked over to the small gathering Lady Ravenwood had assimilated into.
“Ah, Lady Jeanne. Unfortunately, the game of the Masquerade does not work for everyone that attends.” He smirked, having a drink of his wine.
“You’re one to speak, Mister Astier.”
He seemed taken aback, his grin widening with surprise and amusement, “Why… I’ve been had! Have
we met?”
“Briefly, sharing a carriage ride across the county lines until you left me stranded at the Manin campus without so much as a word.” Halena glowered behind her mask, having a gulp of her drink to cool down the smoldering contempt.
The gentleman’s grin slowly faded and he looked closer at the witch’s violet catseyes, “The college… Miss Maris?” He paused and glanced around himself, then leans in with a lowered tone, “What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you why I was abandoned at the campus!” She hissed back.
Edward tried to calm her down, fumbling over his words, “Listen, I had to resume my duties to my house and if anyone saw me with you, we both could have been detained.” He shrugged, “You seemed resourceful enough—it’s nothing personal.”
Halena huffed, scowling at him, “How gentlemanly of you, Ed. Thank you kindly for your helpful hand in escorting me until it no longer suited you.”
He slipped his arm around her shoulders and guided her through the ballroom, “Easy, now. You don’t want to make a scene here. It’s their show, not ours. I’m sorry for abandoning you in the middle of the city, truly.”
“I’ll show you a scene and remove my mask in the middle of all of these people. I bet your association with Lord Calyrien is a falsehood too.” The witch fumed as she moves with Ed.
“Don’t, Miss Maris. You know that won’t end well for either of us. As for Lord Moreaux, I could introduce you to him…” He trailed off, pausing to look through the room, then directed her towards a pair lingering near a group of hounds.
A sickly pale woman, thin and willowy in build, passed off her bird mask to a rugged blonde man at her side. She fixed some straight locks of dark hair from her face and Halena quickly discovered her assumption was incorrect. The sickly woman was in fact a man of his early thirties, also leaning heavily on a cane, and he waved his hand in dismissal at the blonde attendant, “Cover a disfigured orphan’s face with it, I don’t care. These party games are more irritating than fun.”