“How I love evenings like this,” his partner said, “I believe this must be one of the finest palaces we’ve ever seen.”
“Indeed, it is beautiful.” The ball had started at sunset, so that the colors of the sky would turn the castle of ice, with its delicate arches and lattice, into a display of beautiful colors before the stars and moons rose, painting everything blue and silver, the cold lights creating a gentle gleam throughout the grounds and ballroom.
“I look forward to it all year,” the woman said, trying to make pleasant conversation.
“As do I,” he said kindly, watching the colors of the sun sink into dusk. He excused himself to the lady, feigning the need for punch. At the edge of the dance floor, he saw the shimmery black of Bonny’s costume and followed it. He grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. “Come, my dear, you look thirsty.”
“William,” she said, sounding relieved. “You scared me.”
“Your actions do you and your husband a disservice, madam. You are a married woman of honor. Do not besmirch it by betraying your husband’s love.”
She yanked herself away. “You think you understand everything but you don’t. You’re not even married, so how could you possibly know anything about what I’m going through?”
“You may be right, but making yourself into a harlot and my brother into a fool is not something anyone could understand.” Her hand raised and he tensed for a slap.
“Always so certain,” she hissed back at him. “How I wish I were you.” He had caught Lavoussier’s eye. He bowed to the other man, who turned and took Tasmin out onto the floor without asking her. He let his sister go, and bowed. “I would not wish that on my worst enemy. Until later, sister. Perhaps you will spare a space for me on your dance card, but now, I see your husband goes wanting for a partner.”
She looked away, and he took care to disappear before she could turn back, melting into the crowd. It was not hard. That was the point of waiting for the time of evening when the shadows grew and the twilight made vision uncertain.
Along the edges of the trees, Ayers awaited. He wore dark clothes, as William did under the motley, and when William dressed him in the cloak and hat and mask he was pleased, for they looked much the same. “I believe that Lavoussier will soon know that you are not me, so try to avoid him and my family. Have fun. You recall, I’m sure, when we will meet again.”
Ayers nodded, skipped to make the bells ring, and ran off to rejoin the dancers in the still murky light. When William returned, people would be drinking and less observant, or so he hoped. He put on Ayer’s dark brown jacket and hat and made his way to Admiralty House.
Down the hillside and to the beach, he then made his way to a no longer used sally port. He wished he could have borrowed the sprites to help him, but he had to rely on his own lock picking skill to open the iron-bound wooden door. The lock was not in too poor a shape, for the purpose of it was still recalled. Once, it had been more of a back door for the officers in case the place was besieged. Being on the beach as it was, they could easily get to a ship from here, it was hoped, and then find a better point from which to stage an attack.
When the place was rebuilt to accommodate heavier guns along the sea facing wall, the shape of the fort had changed so much that now the sally port door was blocked off from the part of the beach leading towards the harbor and ships, leaving a barren spot of land that required an exertion of great effort to climb down to or out of. When one opened the door and went in, as William finally managed to do, a hallway that doglegged onto itself, a maze of sorts created by new rooms and offices and storage, was revealed.
William had been here once, four years ago, when he had agreed to take a cargo of questionable legality from here to the Emperor of Pandroth. The Emperor wanted a type of liquor that was illegal to make within the borders of Berengeny, let alone sell or transport, and the huge barrels had been rolled through this room and out the sally port door, where he and his men had loaded them onto boats and transported to his ship one moonless night. He delivered the cargo and heard nothing else of it, though he found from that day forward that he was never charged port tax, and that the rumbles of war from the Pandroth Empire soon faded to mere rumor and speculation.
He did, however, get lost, and had to backtrack slightly, and twice he had to hide in the shadows made by the deeply recessed doorways, but after a time he managed to find himself picking the lock of Lavoussier’s office. This was not the one he met people in, but his private office, where he did his real work, and where the previous Port Admiral had once offered William a sip of illegal liquor. Once inside he took out a cold light he’d pinched from the ball, and rested it on the desk.
He wished he could have figured out where Lavoussier had begun in his search of the Bishop’s things, for that would have indicated, perhaps, where Lavoussier himself hid the things he thought valuable. The room was poky and crowded, and he felt quite discouraged as he began with the book case. He took down a series of books, well and often read, that he, too owned. Well, last time I read that set of novels with the same level of enjoyment. He was careful in his search, slow even, because he knew the second Lavoussier came in to this place he would know it had been violated, and he wanted to make sure he left as few clues as possible. If William got his way, Lavoussier would eventually excuse the feeling as paranoia.
He tackled the drawers next; grateful the office was not overly large.
As he was going through a sheaf of papers he saw Tasmin’s name, the details of her life listed in a neat column, her education, her family, even the fact there was, according to the dressmaker she had visited to get her costume, a birthmark behind her left knee. William blinked. Lavoussier’s spies worked quickly.
There were similar dossiers on every member of his family; the longest, of course, was Bonny’s. He felt ill when he read it and slightly angry, not only because of the fact it outlined in detail everything Bonny did during lovemaking, but because the tone was detached, even sometimes a little derogatory. Andrew’s was written in a slightly similar tone. The file was filled with quiet malice disguised as a detached police report. William put it aside, unable to finish it, and went on to his own.
Well. I never quite saw myself in that light. I never thought myself as handsome or very wise, but I don’t think one could really describe me as a blithering fat sow. Mayhaps he meant cow? Still, the gender wouldn’t be right. It included a manifest of the Tregaurde as it was, as far as he could tell, during the Pandora Chase. Yes, William realized, that was exactly what it was, for it even had the names of the seamen that had been rescued, along with the Bishop, listed on the bottom. At the top, Lavoussier had written The Heart of Ithalia. He had starred it, and then starred the list of items recovered from the Pandora, circling, “Pale wood box of undisclosed contents, remanded to the Bishop’s cabin.” It was the original page from his own logs; William recognized his purser’s hand. It was aggravating to see it here, for all records were supposed to go into storage when they were finished with, never to see the light of day again unless there was an audit.
He heard a step outside, so he threw his hat over the cold light and ducked under the desk. He buried his head in his arms as he heard the flitter of wings rubbing together. A sprite of some sort, he thought; he could hear the creature darting around the study, and then he sensed light.
He buried his face more, hoping that if it saw him it would not be able to identify him.
“Oomanzs?” the squeaky voice said.
He risked a peek, and could see its shadow on the wall, dancing around the cold light it had revealed. He could see, in the glass of a framed picture, a sickly green body. I didn’t know Lavoussier had a Skellitt sprite.
“Oomannzs?” He saw the shadow dart and covered his face again. Skellitt sprites were larger than most sprites, more real. They didn’t travel in groups, either, and from what he remembered they were like little slaves
to the person they chose. A creature like that requires its owner to have some sense of magic; ‘tis what it feeds off, I believe. I shall have to ask Tasmin.
“Oohmanzs!” he heard in his ear, and the creature flittered out of the office.
“Bloody hell!” The only thing on the desk was the cold light and Andrew’s dossier. He reached over to shut it, pausing abruptly when he saw the last paragraph. He shoved it in the drawer, running out into the hall. The sprite would be coming back with guards soon.
He needed a left. Yes. There. Now, another left. The approaching guards’ boots thudded loudly on the stone paving, so he unlocked a room, threw open the window, and ran back out. He threw himself behind some crates, waiting for the guards to discover his escape route. While they were in the room he ran for the store room door he wanted. It kept them busy just long enough so that he managed to get inside, holding his breath so he would not sneeze from the dust. He hoped he remembered the rooms right, but as he searched he got worried. Where was the trap door? They’d lowered the barrels down into the hallway from this room, he was sure of it.
“Oohmanzs! Oohmannnnzs!” The sprite was throwing itself against the store room door.
“Shut up, you damned thing!” a guard said, echoing William’s thoughts precisely.
“Nay, I think it’s trying to tell us something. Do you have the key to this?”
“I think.”
“Come on, come on, then!”
The sprite came through the keyhole, attacking him.
William swatted at it. “You are little and I don’t wish to hurt you,” he hissed at it.
There. There was the dip in the floor that marked the hand grip for the door. The sprite alighted on his shoulder and bit his ear. Ignore it. ‘Tis nothing. But it did hurt, and the sprite seemed determined to take a chunk from his lobe. He grabbed its small skull in his thumb and forefinger, with pressure enough to make it let go. He saw an empty sack and threw the sprite inside and tied it tightly. Now, the sprite, blinded and hobbled by the sack, bobbed about close to the floor, still attempting to fly and attack.
He found the outline of the trapdoor and lifted it up as the key began to turn in the lock of the door. He slid under the hatch and hung there, suspended over the floor by a few feet more than he remembered.
He closed his eyes and let go. You learned to roll when you fell, being on a ship, and though it did not feel good, when he got up he was certain dancing was not completely out of the question for the night.
Still, he did not breathe freely until he had climbed the wall and rejoined the main road briefly before slipping into an alleyway, using the full darkness to disguise him as he hurried back to the party. The whole time he could swear he heard soldier’s boots racing down the cobbles after him.
William,
This is a letter you will never see. It is a prayer and a hope that I write, but will never reveal. I do not know you. The Pandora Chase is over, yet still I cannot rest. Why do I lie awake, and wonder if you live? Why, in the darkest hours of the night, do my fears prey upon me? I do not love you. I do not love you. And if you died I would not care. So why can I not sleep? Why do I pray, over and over, God bring you home?
Yours, eventually,
Tasmin
She did not see William leave, though she did see him later, shamelessly flirting with a woman who wore her hair in deep lavender ringlets. She could not tell if it was a dye or a wig, but it was oddly stunning, especially over the woman’s mask of plain white. He was pulling roses from behind her ears, making them disappear and then reappear a different color.
Tasmin narrowed her gaze dangerously, about to go over, when she realized there was something wrong about the movement of that hand, the arm, the set of his shoulders. Wait, no, do not let your eyes alone lead your knowledge. She looked again with her whole mind, and realized it was Ayers. Her jaw tightened, and her fingers stilled on the stem of the wine glass. What are you up to, you great big fool? And why did you not tell me?
“Ah. I see your intended is having a good time ... or is he not your intended? Are you merely trying to discover what lies behind the mask?” Lavoussier took the empty glass from her and placed it on a tray.
“Come now, sir. We both know you—being the cunning investigator that you are—made certain to discover the whereabouts of my intended immediately. I am merely admiring him for celebrating so happily the very reasons behind this day.”
“Meaning?”
“There is still beauty, and joy, and magic to be had in this world.” She looked up, where the moon silvered the arches of ice. She thought the palace looked like a spun sugar cake. Tonight was the party, tomorrow there would be holy services during the morning, then presents in the afternoon. For each day the place would change, like a chameleon, to reflect what was required.
“Ah, Tasmin.” His voice brought her eyes back to his, which were filled with a pretense of both awe and sorrow. “If only you could keep such innocence. But it is not to be.”
“Come, now, sir. If my intended will not attend to me—” Doubtless William told Ayers to avoid me on purpose, for fear I would discover his little trick. “—then perhaps you will do me the favor of another dance?”
He thought for a moment. Bonny smiled at him from across the room, plainly wanting the next dance to be hers, but he turned back to Tasmin and said, “Of course.”
So it was, for a bit, that Tasmin and Bonny took turns dancing with him. During Tasmin’s last turn with him, she grew bored and decided to be provocative. “Poor Andrew, his wife quite abandons him.”
“You must feel for him deeply, for your own intended pays scarcely more attention to you.”
“Ah, but William is under orders to avoid me from his mother. It is inappropriate for us to spend much time together before the wedding.”
“Oh, the horror.” He turned her so they were marching forward, stately, and then turned her again, face to face. “Is she afraid you will run away if you get to know him?”
She laughed. “Hardly. She thinks I am trying to force William into wedlock.”
Turn; march forward; then spin; spin right; march; face to face ...
“And are you?” He lowered her to the left and brought her back up.
“Not at all. If he doesn’t want me, fie on him.” He lowered her to the right, and smiled.
“But you have no choice, do you, my pet?”
Her eyes widened at the endearment, and she tried to find something to say. He laughed at her, and she wondered if, for a second, he would drop her out of cruelty. It seemed like that kind of laugh.
“Sir ... sir, someone has broken into your office.” The young man in the uniform of an officer looked flushed and a little scared.
They straightened so quickly that she almost fainted from the abrupt change of blood in her head. Lavoussier snarled at the unfortunate man in front of him, saying something ugly and unintelligible.
Tasmin turned and caught Ayer’s eye. “Run!” she mouthed, then turned back to Lavoussier. “An outrage! You must go immediately and catch the scoundrel!”
“Sir, the thief had a cold light.”
Lavoussier grinned. Cold lights were only available here, on these grounds. “Then that person must be here, or has been. Well, well, Miss Bey. What do you think?”
Oh, William.
The music changed to a tingling, spiraling dance. Ayers began to imitate it, going in and out, threading himself around the columns.
“Where is your intended? Where?”
She looked somewhere else quickly, hoping her gaze had not given things away. “I don’t know! How should I know? I have been dancing with you! And I want to know how dare you accuse him of such a thing, when we have just seen him? Is every sin to be placed firmly on his shoulders?”
“There! There he is!” Lavoussier pushed Tasmin aside. She grabbed for
him, but he shook her off.
Ayers danced around the columns to her right, playing the fool. She reached out, using her ability to know where he was, and felt William. He was at the columns to the left, and the two were closing in on each other, doubtless meaning to meet behind the throne. She ran to the left, to warn him, hoping that Lavoussier was too occupied with catching up to the jester magician to see her move.
They were closer, so close. She raced around the buffet, darted around the group of ladies forming gossip circle. She saw a swirl of cape out of the corner of her eye just as the jester magician came from around the column and grabbed her waist, twirling her out onto the dance floor. His hands were warm on her waist, and she wanted to say something quite sharp to him, but knew it must be saved until later.
“William Almsley, is it?” Lavoussier said, pushing his way past a butterfly and a swan to catch up to them.
“Of course it is. Do not be a fool.” She turned, and pushed his mask up onto his head, the foolish cap falling to the floor.
William smiled at her and produced a white rose, which he placed behind her ear. A pink rose came next, for her other ear, and then a red, which he handed to her with a flourish.
Lavoussier looked ready to chew the floor.
“See? Who else would conduct such a foolish trick? Have we not been seeing him perform it all this night?”
“Foolish?” William seemed affronted.
“Very,” she said, with a flash in her eyes.
“I’m not an idiot,” Lavoussier said for their ears alone, glaring at them both. “I know you were the one in my office this night, and when I discover how you did it, you will both be very, very sorry.” He left quickly, but he made quite a show of laughing, as if all were well.
The Chocolatier's Wife Page 18