by Shannon Page
Sian stared at her, no longer knowing what to think. The desperation in this woman’s face and voice seemed very real. This was how Sian supposed she’d look and sound, if Maleen’s or Rubya’s lives were threatened.
“I chose to tell you the truth because I saw that you too fear your cousin,” the woman said, more calmly now. “Was I mistaken? Do your own instincts really tell you that the things I have accused him of cannot be true?”
Sian did fear Escotte. She had for some time now. That much was true.
“Don’t you wonder where your two friends really are?” Arian asked. “They are not on any ‘secret mission’ for Escotte. They’re in his dungeon, right here, below the Census Hall.”
“How do you know … about any of that?” Sian asked, already certain it was true. She had never believed they would just have left her here without so much as a note in their own hands to explain and say goodbye. She’d just been too afraid to face it. More and more afraid with every passing day here. Her cousin was a monster. And she’d known it, all along.
“I know this because one of our conspirators is here in Escotte’s house,” said Arian. “It was Sergeant Ennias who came to tell us what Escotte was doing.”
“The same officer who arrested us?”
“The very one,” the other woman said. “Now I’ve handed all our lives to you.” She stood aside, and waved Sian toward the door. “If you still mean to call for help, I doubt very much that I could stop you anyway. I’m at least as old as you are, dear, and in far worse condition, if the healthy glow you wear is any indication.”
“So you just came here without face paint,” said Sian, still reeling in confusion. “That was … brave.”
The Factora-Consort responded with a nearly silent humph of swallowed laughter, but remained otherwise silent, still waiting to learn what her fate would be, it seemed.
“What will he do with them?” Sian asked her.
“With who? Your friends?”
Sian nodded, her heart breaking to think of Reikos and Pino languishing down there in the dark, for all this time, while she’d been up here stuffing herself with pastry. “Will he kill them, do you think?”
“I do not know,” the Factora-Consort said. “But if I and my husband are defeated here, there will be nothing we can do to help them, or you.”
Sian nodded, believing at last that her new maid really was who she claimed to be. She dropped immediately into the best curtsy she could manage.
“Whatever are you doing?” the Factora-Consort asked.
“I have just spent quite a while threatening the Factora-Consort of Alizar,” Sian said meekly. “It seems wise to show you more respect, now that I am convinced you’re —”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” said the other woman, coming to pull her up. “And I’d prefer that you continue to call me Freda, please. We can’t risk slipping up in front of others. While I am here, it’s crucial that I be nothing but your maid, in every respect. Which means no deference of any kind. Is that clear? None at all.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
The Factora-Consort glared at her. “Did you hear anything I just said, my lady?”
“My apologies … Freda,” Sian said, still trying to come to grips with it all. “So, what is to happen now? Is your son nearby somewhere, or has some plan been arranged to sneak me out of here with you?”
“The latter. But first we must convince your cousin that you absolutely need to have a new dress sewn. Your maid has led me to believe that this request might not be too hard to justify?”
“My maid?” Sian asked, confused. “You mean, Cleone? You’ve talked with her?”
“Of course, my dear. Who do you suppose convinced her to fall so conveniently ill this morning? We had a long chat just last night. She was extremely helpful and informative.”
“Are your lives always filled with such intrigue?” Sian asked, aborting the My Lady Consort just in time.
“Not quite this much,” the Factora-Consort sighed. “Mostly it’s just piles of correspondence and dull paperwork.”
“My life as well!” exclaimed Sian. “Who would have thought it?”
“So, can you convince him that you need a seamstress — rather quickly?”
“That I need a seamstress?” Sian was no longer able to stop her laughter. “I will let you be the judge of that, my — Freda.” She walked over to the hidden closet’s panel-door, and gave its latch a shove. “Behold the wardrobe my dear cousin has supplied for me.”
As the door swung open, the Factora-Consort gasped, both hands flying to her mouth in undisguised dismay. “Oh, my dear. How simply … ghastly!” Her eyes grew even wider. “I remember that one!” She turned to Sian. “Víolethe! She wore it to a Factorate diplomatic ball. Two years after I was wed to Viktor, I believe!”
“These are all Víolethe’s,” Sian sighed. “Left behind. Some time ago, it would seem. I can’t imagine why. I do believe that I could use a seamstress, yes. If my cousin can be persuaded to part with what it costs to pay her, knowing, as he does, that there’s no one but you to see me in it here. May I ask why I need this dress right now?”
“Oh yes, my dear. We have a great deal to discuss. But, let’s go sit by the windows.” She glanced again into the closet with a shudder. “I much prefer the view there.”
Her feet sinking nearly to the ankles in the plush hall carpeting, Arian reached up to tap upon the healer’s door. She could only hope that Sian was equipped to execute her part of their necessarily vague plans, and be convincing about it. “My lady? I have brought Lord Alkattha, as you requested.”
“Thank you, Freda,” Sian answered from inside. “Please bring him in.”
With a glance back at the Census Taker, and the absurd monkey on his shoulder, Arian pushed the door open and stood aside to let him pass.
“You wished to see me?” Escotte said as Arian followed him inside.
“Yes, dear cousin. Thank you very much for coming.” Sian sat before the windows looking as calm as a mid-summer tide pool now.
“Of course, my dear. I have few greater concerns at present than ensuring your comfort here. Is there some further problem to address?” He looked pointedly back at Freda.
“Oh, no. Quite the opposite. Freda is just wonderful, and I am … Well, I have been thinking, actually. Quite a lot. I wish to apologize for having been such an ungrateful guest. I think I had begun to confuse the strain of all this turmoil in my life for some vague discontent with your extraordinary hospitality. I feel terrible about that. Now that it’s so clear.”
“Oh, cousin.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “You need hardly have concerned yourself. I understand completely.” He glanced back at Freda briefly, then gave a little shrug and turned to face Sian again. “I understood all that last night, in fact. As soon as my own little fit of pique had passed. I really must apologize as well, for having answered you so sharply. We are both under quite a bit more strain than usual these days. Please, don’t give it any further thought.”
“Thank you,” Sian said, slumping visibly in relief. Arian relaxed some too. The woman clearly had some acting ability. They might pull this off. “But … there is one other little thing?”
Escotte raised an eyebrow, and waited.
“You asked, last night, if there was anything more I might desire … I hope I am not wrong to presume that this was intended as an invitation to ask you if —”
“Yes, yes, of course,” he said preemptively. “Have you thought of something?”
“Well … I have.” She smiled shyly at him, like a little girl before an indulgent uncle. “I have also come to realize that what I miss most these days is really my work. The fabrics and the dyes. The patterns and designs; these have been my life, cousin. And suddenly, they’re gone. It feels as if … my very hands are withering for lack of use.”
Oh, very good, thought Arian. What a fine embellishment. Her optimism rose further.
“Cleone has done a marvelous
job of finding diversions to keep me occupied, of course, but what I’d really like to do, dear cousin — what would truly make me happy — is to create some dresses.”
“Dresses?” Escotte glanced toward Sian’s hidden closet, his brows rising another notch.
“Oh, you have been so much more than generous to provide me such a wealth of lovely things,” Sian rushed to assure him, “but it’s not more clothes I’m wanting, really. It is the creative task of making them. The fabric in my hands again, envisioning design and cut, working out the best approaches to construction. These dresses are all lovely, but they aren’t mine. Someone else has done the best part. I am left no greater role to play than letting someone put them on me. Do you see? To design a dress or two myself, to see those designs realized … Oh, dear Escotte. Such a task would bring me back to life here. I am sure of it. Might I have a seamstress to come work with me, right here in my room? Freda says she knows a very good one. Here on Cutter’s.”
Escotte turned to Arian, who looked down modestly. “My guards procure my maids, and now my maids procure my seamstresses?” Happily, he seemed more amused than irritated. The monkey scrambled up to the top of his head and peered about the room. “Perhaps I should just go join Víolethe up on the continent and let the staff run my affairs without me.”
“She is an extraordinarily fine seamstress, my lord,” said Arian, eyes still cast down respectfully, “and quite inexpensive.”
“Humph,” he grunted. “Money is not an issue where my dear cousin is concerned.” He turned back to Sian, considering her thoughtfully.
“I have worn all these by now,” Sian said, looking bashfully toward the hidden closet door. “Will a man of your refined tastes not grow tired of seeing me in the same things every night? Would you not be curious to see what sort of things I would create?”
Escotte humphed at her again, but with a crooked smile this time. “I would certainly not have said this to you under any other circumstances, dear, but there have been occasions when seeing you across the table wearing Víolethe’s old dresses did remind me of my wife in … somewhat unsettling ways.” His expression grew more wry. “I had actually already considered having some new things made for you.”
“Then you will let me have this seamstress?” Sian asked with an excited smile. “Could we start today, dear cousin?” She put a hand across her mouth as if to take the question back. “Is that asking too much?”
“This would make you happy here?” he asked.
“Oh, you cannot imagine how happy,” she all but gushed.
Arian had trouble keeping a straight face. Who’d have guessed the woman was this good? Then again, she was a self-made success at business, from what Hivat had been able to tell them about her. She’d have to know a fair amount about maneuvering others to have accomplished that.
“Your happiness means everything to me, dear cousin. Of course, you cannot let her know who you are. For your continued safety.” Escotte turned to Arian. “You are able to give me an address for this seamstress, I presume?”
“Oh, I could have her back here in a trice, my lord. Her house is hardly blocks away.”
He shook his head. “I would not want my cousin deprived of company for even that long, I’m afraid.”
Damn! she thought, struggling to let nothing reach her face. There goes the entire plan.
“I’ll have Sergeant Ennias get her,” Escotte said. “He seems to be my new procurer of such persons these days. Can you tell him where to find her?”
Aplologies to all the gods I’ve just been damning. “Of course, sir. Shall I await him here?”
“I’m here already.” Escotte shrugged. “I might as well just take the address to him.”
“My stationery kit is over there,” Sian told her with an uncertain look, pointing to a miniature cabinet of drawers beside the bed.
Arian went to find it, mentally reviewing her knowledge of the immediate neighborhood. Escotte was surely well aware of everything around the Census Hall, and if the address she gave him made no sense, he’d know it. Were he not a man who’d had no female family members in his house for quite a while — except Sian, of course — Arian would have worried that Escotte would find it strange he hadn’t heard of such a fine seamstress so nearby. Or might even have one on staff. Fortunately, though most of Cutter’s was a virtual blank to Arian, the neighborhood around the Census Hall was somewhat more familiar, as she’d had occasion to come here a few times. As she found the right drawer at last, and pulled out Sian’s supply of writing instruments and paper, she searched her memory for any street name in a residential quarter near enough, then bent to write one that she hoped would pass.
She straightened, and brought the note to Escotte. “It’s just a house, my lord. Assidua has no storefront — and needs none, if you take my meaning.”
“I shall pass that fact along to Sergeant Ennias,” he said. “It’s good that she is accustomed to discretion.” He turned back to Sian. “Have we anything more to discuss, my dear?”
She shook her head, beaming delight at him. “Thank you so very, very much, Escotte. You can have no idea how much this kindness means to me.”
He smiled back at her. “Have I not just explained to you, yet again, how much your happiness matters to me?” He turned and started toward the door. “I look forward to being ravished by these stunning new creations of yours over many dinners in the coming week.” He wiggled his fat fingers at her. “Ta!”
Arian closed the door behind him, then turned to grin at Sian. “Oh, well done, my dear! Well done! You’d be a natural at any continental court I know of. I believe this will work beautifully.”
“But what address did you give him?”
“Oh, I just made up a number on a residential street nearby. It won’t matter to the sergeant. He knows this plan as well as I do, and will understand what must be done. Relax now. You did your part just wonderfully. We’ve nothing left to do but wait until he brings Maronne.”
“You really think we look enough alike to make this work?” Sian asked, all the confidence she had just been wearing laid aside as quickly as she had seemed to take it up.
“She is not that far from your build and coloring. And the silks and veil she’s wearing cover her hair and much of her face. She’ll be buried behind piles of fabric and supplies as well, of course. No one’s likely to have much idea what she looks like, or what you look like either, as we leave.”
“But what if someone comes —”
“Into your room? In the middle of the night? Does that happen often here?”
Sian shook her head. “Never that I know of, though I’d have been sleeping, so how would I know if I am checked on?”
“There is a guard at your door all night. Is that correct?”
Sian nodded.
“Then unless they fear you’ll climb out these windows and shimmy down the trellis all the way into the garden far below, I cannot see why they should feel any need to check on you in here before your maid comes in the morning. I will certainly find you sleeping peacefully when I arrive. And as the seamstress is returning so early with the first of your new dresses, we’ll have you back up here and dressed in ample time to ravish Escotte over breakfast.”
“You keep making it all sound so easy,” Sian sighed.
“Cleone will be recovered from her fever by tomorrow evening. I’ll be gone by the next day, and Escotte will have no idea anything at all has ever happened. Except that you will look a great deal better over meals, and my son will have suddenly recovered despite the Census Taker’s best-laid plans — all praise to the Mishrah-Khote, of course. The hardest part of this was getting Escotte to agree to let Maronne come see you up here in the first place. Now that’s done, thank the elusive gods of Alizar.”
Sian still didn’t look entirely convinced. “And your maids will not mind giving me so many of their dresses?”
“In exchange for new ones?” Arian laughed. “Oh my dear, they’ll be blessing you b
efore the mirror for months to come. I’ll make sure of that. They’ll have more than earned it by the time all this is over.”
Sian fidgeted as the minutes ticked by. Half an hour became an hour, and still no one arrived. She and the Factora-Consort had fallen rather quickly into thoughtful silence after their initial burst of self-congratulations. For all her reassurances, Arian seemed no more inclined to chatter now than Sian felt.
“Do I hear something?” Sian asked, glancing from the windows toward the vague suggestion of a footfall from beyond her door.
Arian rose immediately and rushed to check. She cracked the door and stuck her head out, then pulled back into the room and closed the door again. “No one there. Perhaps it took Escotte some time to find the sergeant, or he was distracted by some other matter, and forgot about us. Would you like me to go inquire with someone?”
Sian shook her head, fearful of trying Escotte’s patience any further than she must surely have already done. Or of raising his suspicions. “What will you do to Escotte, when all of this is over?” she asked, wondering how much more the world might change before she was returned to it.
“Assuming we are able to determine who else is involved this conspiracy, and defuse it before it can succeed,” the Factora-Consort said, “a lot of heads will doubtless roll. For your cousin, I assume it will mean exile at the very least. For others, likely even graver consequences. The least powerful conspirators will doubtless suffer most. That is usually the way of things. You and Sergeant Ennias, however, will likely find your fortunes vastly enhanced.”