by Laura Lam
I chewed my lip at that. One morning several weeks ago, I had broached the subject with Maske of what would happen if we won – if he would truly keep up his end of the bargain and ruin the boys’ career.
“Why do you care?” he asked. “There’s no love between the twins and you. Especially Drystan.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement as he remembered the tale of the fistfight after the Specter Shows.
“No, but it’s not their fault their grandfather is a tosser, is it?” I asked.
“No, I suppose it’s not,” was all he’d said.
I stared at Maske, hoping he would remember the conversation.
I willed a thought at him, wishing he could hear it: Be the better man.
I could not send it, but Cyan could. I felt her push the thought so that it whispered in Maske’s mind. His eyes darted first to Cyan and then to me. I met his gaze.
When it was his turn to speak, Maske cleared his throat. “Thank you to everyone who has watched our performance tonight. I am overwhelmed with the support you have shown for us and for magic. I am ecstatic to be declared the victor.” He licked his lips. “However, I wish to amend the wager slightly, if it is alright with the Collective of Magic, of course.”
Professor Delvin frowned but motioned for him to continue.
“In the fifteen years I have not performed magic, it has been difficult for me, like missing a limb.”
My eyes found Doctor Pozzi in the crowd. His mouth twisted at that turn of phrase.
“I thought that, were I victorious, I would delight in giving that same sentence upon others. That it would make me feel the stronger man. But, I have learned that it would not, and so I do not wish to ban Sind and Jac Taliesin from the Specter Shows, nor take their premises from them. The loss of such a wonderful spectacle would hurt Imachara and Ellada. What the world always needs more of is magic and wonder.” He bowed to the audience, and then toward the Taliesin twins.
They looked at him in utter amazement, and bowed back in turn. They were so surprised that I wondered how much kindness they’d had in their lives.
Not much from their grandfather, that’s for sure. He speaks to them like they’re his servants. Or vermin, Cyan said.
Be that as it may, I still didn’t like them.
The audience approved of Maske’s speech and everyone applauded, and most gave a standing ovation. Maske, Cyan, and Drystan held hands and bowed again. People threw flowers and coins onto the stage. And then the curtains closed, obscuring them from sight.
I grinned in fierce triumph.
We won.
29
THE KYMRI THEATRE
“I did it. We did it. Somehow, these three came into my life, and now I have a life of performance and magic again. It still doesn’t seem possible. I still don’t feel as if I deserve it, for all my repentance. But tonight, after much wine and dancing, all feels well.”
Jasper Maske’s personal diary.
Maske threw open the doors to the Kymri Theatre. Many of the people he held séances for, the Lord and Lady Elmbark among them, came to celebrate. Some of the friends he still played cards with every now and again – for buttons instead of coins – arrived, bringing spirits and hearty smiles. Oli was up in Cyan’s room, as the lump on his head had grown to the size of a clementine.
I told Maske what had happened in the carriage ride back to the theatre. The Eclipse was tucked into the pocket of my coat.
Maske sighed. “Can’t say I’m surprised he tried something like that. Are you sure the boys had nothing to do with it? If they have, I’ll rescind my moment of sentimentality.”
“They’re innocent,” Cyan said, with a certainty only she could possess.
He nodded. “Seems I owe you even more of a debt, now.”
I waved the gesture away. “It was selfish. We like living here.”
He smiled.
In the Kymri Theatre, Maske was the cat with the cream. He could not stop smiling magnanimously at everyone. We held the party in the main theatre. The brass automaton stood on the stage, an angel watching over us. I had changed out of my stagehand gear into my stiff suit. I kept tugging at my cravat.
Cyan came over to me.
“We did it,” she said.
“So we did. We made a good team there, with Taliesin.”
“Aye, that we did.” She tilted her chin toward the other end of the room, amused. “Look at Maske.”
He was dancing with Lily Verre, the white of his smile visible from here. He looked twenty years younger. It all felt worth it.
“We saved him.”
She nodded, and then she hesitated. “Anisa showed me what she showed you. Those visions with Ahti and Dev.”
“Ah.”
“Guess it’s time to try and save more people, soon enough.”
“That’s us, heroes of the world in the making.” I tried to keep my voice light, but it fell flat. “Drystan knows. He wants to help.”
Cyan looked over at him. Drystan was chatting comfortably with Lord Elmbark, no doubt amused that the man didn’t recognize the boy who once played with his son at his own apartments. “That’s good. You care for him a lot, don’t you?”
I paused. Life seemed better, brighter, with Drystan around. One touch and my fears quieted. One off-hand comment and he’d have me in stitches of laughter. Even when I’d first seen him in the circus when his gaze met mine, I had felt a spark. Now, I felt a flame. “Pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with him.”
“Have you told him that?”
“No. Not yet.”
“You should. He loves you too.”
I blinked. “Have you…?” I tapped my temple.
She smiled. “No. I don’t need to.”
A rush of warmth flowed through me. I wouldn’t believe her until I’d heard the words from his lips, but the possibility was sweet as sugar all the same.
Across the room, Drystan threw back his head to laugh at something Lord Elmbark said. I felt happy, and safer than in a long time. Much was to come, but tonight, at least, was celebration.
“Have you told Maske yet?”
She shook her head. “The right time hasn’t appeared. He was always in his workshop, or with Lily, or…”
“Or excuses.”
A corner of her mouth quirked. “Aye, excuses. What if he doesn’t want me as a daughter?”
“Cyan, he’s already shown how much he cares for you. He never considered anyone else for an assistant. He’ll be delighted. You should speak to him.”
She chewed her lip and nodded, leaving me. She tapped Maske on the shoulder, and he nodded at her question and they made their way to the parlor. I smiled.
Doctor Pozzi came up to me, holding two glasses of wine. He passed me one with his clockwork hand. I nodded at him and smiled, taking a small sip.
“Did you enjoy the performance, Doctor Pozzi?”
“Very much so. It was a piece of art. I thought you would be on the stage, though.”
“No, I’m afraid not. I decided it’s safer for me to be behind the scenes instead of in the limelight.” I swirled my wine around in my glass. I didn’t like the taste much.
“Perhaps it is, at that. Are you feeling quite well?” he asked, his brows furrowed in worry.
“I’m in perfect health, as ever, Doctor.”
“That’s good to hear, Micah.” He looked around the theatre. “This is an extraordinary building. Some parts of it mirror the Kymri temples I’ve been to.”
“I’d like to see those one day.”
“You should. Everyone should travel the world if they can. Open their eyes to different cultures and ways of life. I feel like a changed man after my time abroad.”
“Maybe someday,” I said, “we’ll do a touring show.”
He nodded. “So you plan to stay in show business?”
“I never plan anything for forever. Too much has shifted beneath my feet in the past for that. But for now, this is where I belong.”
Docto
r Pozzi nodded. “I am glad for you.”
“And will you be staying in Imachara long?” I asked, wondering how long I’d have to worry about him looking over my shoulder.
“It depends on a myriad of factors. There’s been an interesting birth in Kymri I’d like to investigate – the child can cause his bottle to float to him when he’s hungry, which has scared his parents half to death – but I do believe my brief travels are over. I am the Royal Physician, and the young Royal is my charge.”
Something in the phrasing reminded me of how Anisa spoke of her charges. Someone who knew Pozzi hailed him from across the room, and he made his excuses to me and ambled over. I watched him go, wishing I could have the measure of the man.
When Cyan and Maske returned, they both beamed brighter than glass globes, Maske with his arm tight around her.
Have things gone well? I ventured, looking over to Pozzi. He did not seem to notice how we spoke, or if he did, he gave no sign.
He had no idea, but he doesn’t deny he was with my mother around that time. It’s still a little bizarre and awkward, but he’s happy. And I’m happy.
She laughed in my mind.
I smiled.
30
THE WOMAN IN THE RED DRESS
“But the spirits show me visions. I see a girl, no, a woman, in a wine-red dress. Her child is ill, eaten from the inside. I see figures on a stage, playing their parts, the audience applauding as magic surrounds them. I see great feathered wings flapping against the night sky. A demon with green skin drips blood onto a white floor. A man checks his pocket watch, and I hear a clock ticking, counting the time.”
The words spoken to Micah Grey at the séance.
The peace did not last.
A week later, Anisa woke me up.
It’s time, she whispered in my mind.
“Hmm?” I asked aloud, still half asleep.
I had a vision. You must go to that place where you saw the woman with the ill child. I think something has happened. Something impossible.
I sighed, rolling out of bed. “Alright, alright,” I muttered, tugging on my shoes I rubbed my gritty eyes. My muscles hurt. I yawned.
What about Cyan and Drystan? I asked.
No need to trouble them with this.
My mouth twisted. I’m at least asking Drystan if he wants to come. We promised each other – no secrets.
Hurry, then.
I shook Drystan awake, and whispered what had happened. He clambered out of bed and dressed, stumbling to the washroom to splash water on his face. We left. The air was warmer today. I barely needed my coat and left it unbuttoned. All of my clothes were nice and new. Séance requests were flowing in thick and fast, the Collective of Magic had assigned us a manager, and we had plenty of bookings in Imachara and other cities along the coasts and in the Emerald Bowl. We had enough money to flee Ellada five times over, but neither of us had brought up the possibility of leaving Maske, Cyan, and the Kymri Theatre.
We trudged through the city, still yawning. It was so early we doubted we’d see the woman pushing her child about for a stroll. I wanted to ask Anisa for more information, but I figured I would learn soon enough.
“So who’s this woman again?” Drystan asked me as I walked.
“In my first vision at the séance, Maske mentioned her. For a time I thought she was the second client of the Shadow, but that was Pozzi. Something about her or that child is important. I can feel it, but I can’t explain it more than that.”
“Time to find out, it seems.”
I nodded.
The café across from the building where the woman lived had just opened. We ordered a strong pot of coffee.
Now what, Anisa?
We wait. She will come here.
She fell silent in my mind. I stirred sugar and milk into the coffee, my hands shaking. I was scared. Anisa’s master plan was meant to be a vague event in the future. This was the first step, and I did not know where it would lead. I wished Cyan could tell the future, but she only had that dream about the lion. The one that Anisa sent.
The door of the building across the way opened. A woman came out pushing the wicker wheelchair. I sat up straight, and Drystan followed my gaze. She pushed the chair across the cobbled street, her bonneted head ducked low. When she came closer, I peered into the chair, but a cover hid the child from view.
Before entering the café, the woman came around and told the boy off for removing his scarf and she wrapped him up again. It was only when she turned around that I saw her face.
It was Lily Verre.
“Styx,” I swore. She hadn’t seen us. Quickly, I grabbed a newspaper on the empty table next to it and unfolded it, feeling ridiculously conspicuous.
“It can’t be,” Drystan whispered to me. “That’s Lily. What’s going on?”
I rubbed my forehead, and my fingers came away damp with sweat. “I don’t know. She said she didn’t have any children.” I peeked around the newspaper. Lily was at the till. She kept glancing back at the boy in the wicker chair.
“Two coffees and two chocolate pastries to take away,” she said to the woman behind the till, and I reeled again. Gone were her flighty voice and her rough mannerisms. She spoke with the smooth, educated voice of the nobility of Imachara.
“Oh, Lord and Lady,” I breathed. “We’ve been had.”
She’d been waiting for us at Twisting the Aces. She’d just joined the week before. But how had she known to lie in wait? I searched my memory… and the first night we went to Maske’s, there had been a woman walking down the street. I remember the sound of her heels echoing on the cobblestones. Had it been her?
The woman you saw matches her height and weight. I believe she shadowed Shadow Elwood, Anisa said. I can see it now. She followed him the last night you were in the circus and knew where you went. I didn’t know if I believed her. What if Anisa had known this all along?
I didn’t. Oftentimes what I see does not make sense until many other pieces fall into place.
Lily waited impatiently for the coffees and the pastries.
I went back through every memory with Lily, trying to see her ploy. When I went to Twisting the Aces and I’d had a vision: was she to blame? On the second visit, she dropped something, a glass in a frame. My breath hitched. I had been blind and foolish. That purple glass with the motley frame. Take away the gaudy flame, and wipe off a sheen of thin red paint, and it could have been a Mirror of Moirai. It was the same size, and when she’d wiped off my fingerprints with a cloth, she’d taken care not to touch it herself. She could have known where we were the entire time.
She wasn’t the second client of the Shadow. She was a second Shadow.
When the coffees arrived, Lily put them on the small shelf below the chair and pushed it back onto the street. We waited for her to leave and then dashed up to the till and paid for our unfinished coffee. I put extra coins into the tip jar to make up for the tea I had stolen months ago.
Lily disappeared around the corner. She wore her wine-colored dress. I nodded to a drainpipe and we made our way up to the roof. As we climbed, I felt a little dizzy. Why hadn’t she turned us in after our actions resulted in the death of Shadow Elwood? What did she want from us?
Poor Maske.
She made her way through the streets. She gave one of the pastries to the boy and we finally had a clear view of the boy in the wicker basket.
Despite the mild weather, the child, who must have been around eight, wore a coat, a hat, and a thick scarf that covered most of his face. But the child used his weak arms to tug at the scarf and managed to disengage himself from it so he could eat his pastry. I stared, my mouth falling open slightly. The boy’s face was peeling badly, and patches had fallen away. Beneath, the skin was dark green, like the back of a beetle. Beneath the hat, I saw two small protrusions.
Horns.
Like Ahti.
Of course, Anisa breathed in my mind. I should have seen it. This is why the world is in danger. If someon
e hurts or frightens this little Chimaera, then all is lost. She sounded so sad. Once he finishes his change, he will look identical to Ahti.
Drystan was staring at the boy as well. “Did I just see what I think I saw?”
“Yeah. That’s a true Chimaera. A Theri.”
Lily drew the covering back again, surveying the street. But she didn’t look up. We followed her as she made her way to the nicest part of town, passing the palace. She paused at the gates, and for a moment I thought she would enter.
Instead, she gazed through the bars and continued onto Ruby Street, to press the buzzer for Doctor Samuel Pozzi’s apartments.
She was let in immediately.
Drystan and I froze in shock. The woman who joked and comforted us, helped tidy the theatre and had supposedly fallen in love with Maske was all smoke and mirrors, like any of our illusions. I shivered again, but it was not from cold. I felt very warm. I loosened my coat, sweating. Drystan peered at me.
“Micah, are you alright? You’re pale.” He put his palm on my forehead. “Styx, you have a fever.”
“A fever?” I asked him thickly. “Is this what a fever feels like? It’s terrible. I don’t like it.”
“Come on, let’s get you home. There’s nothing more we can do here.”
It was so difficult to climb back down the drainpipe and trudge home. I kept having to pause to catch my breath. My eyes felt like they were cooking in my skull, and I’d never been so weak.
Drystan didn’t seem unduly concerned. “It’s just a fever, Micah. You’ll take a cool bath, get some soup and liquids, and you’ll be fine in a day or two.”
In response, I stumbled to an alleyway and retched up my coffee. The bile burned my throat.
In all that happened, it turned out I still kept one secret from him. That if I became ill, it could be the sign of something being very wrong.