What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  Bowe smiled, trying to project confidence he didn’t feel. This was where his plan got murky. “I’m Bowe Bellanger, but you already guessed that, I’m sure.” He held out his arm, but the other man didn’t even look at it. He continued to stare Bowe straight in the eye.

  Bowe searched his mind frantically for something to say. The rickshaw had gotten him past the lower-ranked marshals, and now he only needed to bluff his way past one more guy. At least, that was the idea beforehand. Now that he’d met Tokanu, he wasn’t so sure; he didn’t look the type of guy to bluff.

  “One,” Tokanu said.

  “Listen, I’m sure the Guardians will want me to attend. I’m the last Bellanger. One final time with representatives from all four families together.”

  “Two.”

  “You never told me what you are counting up to and what happens when you are finished. There are rules to this sort of thing.”

  “Three.”

  Another rickshaw rumbled into position behind Bowe, and two words rang out that made Bowe feel like he was the luckiest bastard on the whole damn island: “Kirande Grenier,” a puller announced. One of the three he had come here to meet.

  “Four.”

  “Enough counting—I’m going. I need to talk to the man behind me.” Three, five and ten seemed the most dangerous numbers. Bowe had survived a three, and he certainly didn’t want to risk a five. He went to intercept Kirande.

  He reached the rickshaw just as Kirande was stepping out. The man was tall with thin limbs, and his body was all sharp angles from his shoulders to his knees to the hatchet-shaped thing that passed for a nose. Prominent swirls of scarlet slashed across his coat. He stopped short at the sight of Bowe, then threw back his head and let out a roar of laughter. He clapped Bowe on the back. “Look at you. Spectacular. And here I was afraid that the ball would be dull.”

  “I’d like to talk to you privately for a moment,” Bowe said.

  “Very well. He took a silver from his pocket and tossed it to the first of the two pullers. “Wait here a moment more.” He held the rickshaw door open for Bowe. “After you, young Bellanger.” Bowe got in and sank into the cushioned seat. His rickshaw had been nothing like this.

  Kirande sat opposite him and rubbed the lapel of Bowe’s tunic. “This is great. I can’t wait to see the reaction to your outfit when we go inside. Stenesso, in particular. This is going to be fun. Now,” he said, leaning back, “what’s do you want with me?”

  “To be honest, I only wanted to meet you. I have a gift that I hope you might appreciate.”

  Kirande’s smile faltered. “Well then, let’s see it.”

  Bowe produced the neck clasp. Kirande took it and turned it over in his hands. “Open the curtain,” he ordered. Bowe complied. The gem glittered as the torchlight reflected deep inside it.

  “Remarkable. I had heard about the red garnets’ recent arrival, of course, but I never imagined their color would match a ruby’s so well. So why have you given me this?”

  “I need to get selected. I hope you will look favorably upon me when the time comes.”

  A smile played on Kirande’s lips. “A bribe?”

  Bowe shifted in his seat, causing the rickshaw to creak. “More of an exchange of gifts.”

  “I see.” Kirande examined the clasp closely. “There’s very valuable information to be gleaned from lies.”

  Bowe leaned forward. “I wasn’t—”

  Kirande raised his hand to stop Bowe from continuing. “You can often tell the skill of an ascorim player from the quality of his lies. In your case, they are rather unsophisticated. Given your bold choice of dress, I had hoped for more from you. Let me see.” Kirande steepled his long fingers in front of his face. “You have access to those garnets and need to sell them. And you think that having an ascor wear one at the ball will make them desirable. Why me?” He scratched his chin with his thumb. “You wanted someone who doesn’t care about annoying the Lessards. Someone who would actually enjoy it.” Kirande grinned. “Guilty as charged. And you needed someone independent, not someone else’s lackey. How am I doing?”

  Bowe looked down at his knees and shrank back into the cushion. He was now aware of how clumsy his attempts to manipulate Kirande had been, and he realized that he’d been a fool to think he could outwit someone who’d been playing the ascorim since before he had been born. There was a click, and Bowe looked up to see Kirande adjusting the garnet against his neck.

  “You’re going to wear it?”

  Kirande smiled and stepped out of the rickshaw. “Just because I can see through your plan doesn’t mean it doesn’t suit my purpose. You got one thing right.” He helped Bowe out of the rickshaw. “Choosing me to wear it.”

  “Kirande Grenier,” the puller announced again. Another rickshaw waited behind. Bowe looked around, trying to figure out how he was going to get off the Lessard grounds and back to Bellanger Mansion. Perhaps Kirande would let him—

  A bony arm wrapped around Bowe’s shoulders, and the next thing he knew, he was being half-dragged down the green carpet. “Wait,” Bowe protested. “I don’t—”

  “You don’t think you need to go to the ball now that you have already given me the garnet?” They were approaching Tokanu. “As it turns out, you do.” Kirande leaned down to whisper in Bowe’s ear, “Because I insist.” His tone made Bowe suddenly very aware of how many marshals stood on either side of him. Bowe decided he did, after all, want to attend the ball.

  “Kirande, you are most welcome, as always.” Tokanu stepped in front of Bowe. “However, the walking blueberry hasn’t an invitation.”

  “I just invited him.” Kirande barely glanced at Tokanu and guided Bowe past him and through the doors. Bowe couldn’t resist turning to wiggle his fingers at Tokanu in a goodbye wave. He mouthed the word, “Five.” Tokanu’s grim expression was the only response.

  A long, arching staircase swept up and away from the entrance hall. To the right, a wide doorway led into the main ballroom. Bowe followed Kirande inside. Bowe thought that just seeing that expression on Tokanu’s face made attending the ball worth it. That feeling lasted for a few moments, and then people started to notice him. He felt naked. A ripple of turning heads spread across the crowd as more and more people became aware of his presence. Kirande had a big smile on his face, loving the attention.

  What in Helion’s name had Bowe been thinking when he’d decided to come here dressed like this? And why hadn’t Glil stopped him? Shouldn’t Defenders stop their Elect from doing crazy stuff like this? Glil should have at least tied Bowe down until the ball was over.

  The room contained many more women than men, since each of the ascor had multiple wives, plus all the Greenettes were here. The Greenettes had put aside their plain clothes and now wore dresses almost as elaborate as the ascora. As much makeup, as well. Everyone was dressed in finery, and Bowe had never felt more out of place in his life.

  Kirande leaned down to whisper, “Wear your clothes—don’t let them wear you. You can either look like a clown who got lost on his way to the circus, or you can look like the person who owns this ball. The daring Green who everyone will be talking about long after this is over.”

  Bowe straightened his shoulders and lifted his head. What Kirande was saying made sense, but it was hard to look confident when he felt all quivery inside. He glanced around the room, trying to ignore all the stares. The fact that everyone was wearing white with only small slashes of color was more noticeable than ever. He caught Ariastiana’s cold gaze, and it was almost a relief; she had looked at him like that all his life. At least there was something familiar. At her side, Kesirran was one of the few not staring at Bowe. That, too, went with the usual pattern of life in Raine Mansion.

  Kirande led Bowe into the heart of the ballroom and stopped in front of Veliro and Alandar. “Ah, two of the mentors,” he said.

  Bowe gulped, remembering his last meeting with each of them.

  “Bet you’ve never been joined by one of the
Greens at a ball before,” Kirande said.

  “Definitely not.” Veliro had a pastry in his hand. “Nor have I met anyone as strangely dressed. And I’ve met all sorts of queer outlanders while trading.”

  Alandar rubbed the fabric of Bowe’s cloak between his thumb and forefinger. “Despite its ghastly coloring, this appears expensively made. Good cloth, fine stitching, well fitted. Might have cost a gold piece. Where would a Green get the money to purchase such clothing?”

  “You insult me,” Bowe replied. “I do not dress in cheap clothes. I am a Bellanger, not a Raine.”

  Alandar gave a thin smile. His fingers circled a gem on his knife’s scabbard. “I hear you have some loans to pay off—I would consider that before buying expensive clothing. Some friends of mine tried to have a talk with you about that the other day, but lost you in the crowd.”

  “Maybe you need more competent friends.” The confidence flowed through him as he bantered with the Raine mentor. As long as he was with Kirande, Bowe was safe from arrest. He lifted the side of his cloak and let it fall. “You are right about the fit, and both the quality and color suit me.”

  “I’m going to have so much fun when I finally catch you.” Alandar nodded respectfully to Kirande and Veliro and walked away.

  Bowe watched Alandar’s departing back. Making himself Alandar’s biggest enemy didn’t seem the wisest move, but Bowe couldn’t help himself. Veliro licked cream from his thick fingers.

  “I’d like to thank you for that bargain we made early in the Path,” Bowe said to him.

  Veliro frowned. “I got you to give me money for nothing. And you’d like to thank me?”

  “Hardly nothing,” Bowe said. “Money is just metal; wisdom is priceless.”

  Veliro smiled. “Never heard anyone value my words so highly. Though I fear you’ll find that Alandar and the Raines might not agree with that philosophy.”

  “You let me worry about Alandar. I have it under control.” Bowe almost believed it as he said it. The confidence he was channeling was liquid fire in his veins.

  Kirande laughed. “The boy is something else, isn’t he? To think, I wasn’t looking forward to tonight, and now it’s so much fun.”

  Veliro studied Kirande. “Interesting gem you have around your neck.”

  Kirande cocked his head. “Funny you should mention that. Quite the story behind it. The price was much higher than you’d expect to pay for a garnet. Must be the beautiful Grenier coloring. To purchase the gem, I had to go to a meeting place deep in the heart of escay Arcandis. I had to leave my protectors behind and was led with a cloth covering my head down a twisting series of alleyways. There, the exchange was made. I was led back and the cloth was removed.” Kirande rubbed at the neck clasp. “Quite the adventure. But it’s worth the high price to have it admired by you.”

  “We have been looking for those who stole the red garnets.” Veliro licked the remains of the pastry from his lips.

  “I suggest telling your marshals to keep their eyes open down dark and twisty alleyways in the poorest areas of the city.”

  Veliro’s grunted. “A fake ruby for a fake Grenier.”

  Bowe held his breath. Veliro must be among those who didn’t see Kirande as a true ascor, due to all of Stenesso’s recent promotions. Bowe didn’t know how Kirande had come up with the story about buying the garnet so quickly, but it was perfect.

  Kirande smiled. “If I was not a real ascor, I don’t think you’d let me get away with wearing this Lessard-prohibited gem. But I am, and so you swallow it like month-old bread.” Kirande looked Veliro up and down. “A common occurrence around Lessard Mansion, I’m sure. Bits of food forgotten by the edges of the trough.”

  A flush rose in Veliro’s cheeks, and Bowe thought he was going to explode. Instead, he nodded at Kirande, said, “Excuse me,” and walked away.

  Kirande patted Bowe on the shoulder. “Now that was fun.” He scanned the ballroom. “Who else can we annoy?”

  Bowe didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure he wanted to meet anyone else—he couldn’t afford many more enemies. Or even the ones he’d already made, truth be told.

  “Wait, I’ve a better idea: circulate by yourself and see what happens.”

  Bowe stiffened. “On my own?”

  Kirande slapped his back. “Go on. You’ll be great. Just remember what I told you: wear the clothes.”

  Bowe pushed back his shoulders, puffed out his chest, and marched into the center of the room. He stopped a waiter and took some grapes from the tray he carried. He popped one into his mouth and looked around. Among the maelstrom of disapproving and calculating faces, Bowe saw someone gesture him over—a Lessard, judging by the sea-green patterns on the man’s tunic.

  Bowe approached him and held out his arm. “Bowe Bellanger.”

  “I’m Eolnar. No introductions were necessary on your part.” Eolnar clasped Bowe’s arm warmly. “As of this moment, you are the most famous person in Arcandis.”

  “Famous or notorious?” Bowe asked. Eolnar was the elder brother of Sorani, and second in command after the Lessard leader, Bowe remembered. Maybe not the best person to talk to when Bowe seemed ready to insult anyone and everyone. “Tomorrow, I could be the most famous corpse in Arcandis.”

  “Such are the vagaries of the Path.” Eolnar had a small, round face, a pointy nose, and a head of short, curly black hair. He reminded Bowe of one of the creatures from those picture books—a hedgehog. “And of the ascorim. The possibilities are endless. One choice leads to death and ruin, another to riches and glory. The skill is in knowing beforehand which choice leads where.”

  “There seem to be many more paths toward death than ones to riches. What’s the direction that leads to a quiet life and a peaceful old age?” Bowe asked.

  Eolnar chuckled. “Gatecrashing this ball wearing that outfit does not suggest a search for tranquility.”

  Bowe didn’t know about that—he would have happily skipped the ball once he’d given the neck clasp to Kirande if he’d been allowed.

  “Now, Bowe, I’ve been thinking. Before, you were a nonentity. A Deadbeat. Today, you are something much more. The ghost of the Bellanger family come to curse Arcandis, perhaps. Or the last shovel of dirt thrown on their grave. Or something we thought disappeared and dead, found hanging on the edge of the Path and coming back to life. Time will tell. You’ll have many more enemies after this performance. To survive, you’ll need friends. Maybe I can help you.”

  “If you could direct your brother to select me, it would help a lot.”

  “Not so fast.” Eolnar chortled, showing his little hedgehog teeth. “I’m not going to bypass the Green Path. If you survive until the end and you are at the top of the lists, who knows? But even then, I don’t make the decision. You’ll have to impress my brother to get selected by the Lessards.”

  “So how are you going to help me?” Bowe was disappointed. Alandar was likely to be hot on his heels after tonight, and he’d hoped for more than moral support from Eolnar.

  “I heard you were good at Harmony. Used to be that the four Guardians played each other in the Grand Sexennial Harmony Match. Now we give four marshals the chance to play for the fourth seat in a qualifying match. I thought it’d be nice to have a Bellanger back at the table. I might be able to replace one of the four marshals with you. Win, and you’ll play in the famous Harmony match the night before the Infernam.”

  How in Helion’s name is that helping me? Bowe wondered. I probably won’t be alive by then, and even if I am, I will be unlikely to care about a stupid Harmony game. He bit his tongue and forced a smile. “Thank you—that’s just what I was hoping for.” He tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Let me know if you manage to arrange a place for me in the qualifying match.” Bowe nodded to him and moved on.

  He continued to circulate, but now the confidence was draining from him. Ariastiana caught his gaze. Her dark eyes and makeup mask seemed to fix him to the spot. I know you aren’t the great Bellanger ascor you ar
e pretending to be, the gaze said, You are just a Deadbeat. Bowe began to see the same expression on the faces of others he recognized: ascor, ascora, and even Greenettes from Raine Mansion. They all seemed to be saying the same thing: You are a fake. His shoulders wilted. He began to drift to the edge of the room to get away from their stares. He found a small staircase and climbed it to a second floor balcony that looked out over the city.

  He let out a long sigh as a breeze washed over him. The shadowed silhouette of the city lay before him. Helion had set and the white moon, Luna, was obscured by clouds. It was nice to have darkness without it being polluted by unnatural light. He allowed himself to relax for the first time since he’d arrived. Gradually, he became aware of someone else on the balcony with him. At the far edge, a girl was leaning against the ledge. She turned with a smile, but when she saw Bowe, it disappeared. “Oh, it’s you.” She leaned back over the ledge again.

  “What’s wrong with me?” Bowe asked. She was clearly one of the Greenettes.

  “Go away,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “Find your own hiding place.”

  Bowe almost did. He figured he had to enough to worry about without adding a crying girl to his list. Then again, going back into the ballroom was more likely to add to his problems rather than solve them. “Why are you crying?” he asked. “And what’s your name?”

  “Zofila. And I’m not crying,” she said fiercely. She whipped around and rubbed her finger below her eyes. “Look, no tears.”

  “Bet you want to, though,” Bowe said.

  “Why would I want to cry?” She sniffed. “Just because I’m ugly and have to figure out how to get someone to marry me?”

  “You’re not ugly,” Bowe said, though she certainly wasn’t pretty. Her nose was too big and her eyes were too small and too far apart, but she did have a nice smile, from what Bowe had seen of it. “You’re a bit thin, is all.” She wasn’t as thin as Iyra, but she wasn’t nearly as plump as most of the ascora and Greenettes, either.

  A tear rolled down her cheek and Bowe cursed himself for saying anything. “I’ve eaten for two all my life,” she said. “I just can’t seem to put on any weight.” She dashed the tear away. “And now you’ve made me ruin my makeup.” She slapped his arm. “Infernam’s ass, whoever heard of a blue Green anyway? It’s all your fault. All the men are doing this evening is talking about you. They don’t even notice a desperate girl simpering right in front of them.”