Well, she was much more sympathetic now.
Getting strapped into the corset again was just the start. Then she had to wear a wholly impractical gown with wire underpinnings that kept the skirt out and away from her legs; it gave her the feeling of being trapped in a bell, her legs the dangling clapper.
But that wasn’t the worst.
Jill had spent over an hour piling her hair on top of her head in an elaborate construction as a house for the wire and crystal head piece that was to be affixed with two long, rather wicked-looking pins.
Even though she felt the fool, even though she couldn’t help but think how her life had been so different just last Wintertide, she supposed the overall effect in the mirror was quite beautiful. She just wasn’t sure it was her.
Sitting in the gown was a nightmare, so she had stood for the entire boat ride to the square in front of the Palazzo Confluens. Crews had gallantly stood with her, offering his arm for support, and she was very grateful for his good sense of balance. She could just imagine herself tipping head first into the canal. He’d even told her she looked ravishing.
That was a new concept for her to wrestle with too.
She walked at the head of their small procession to the front steps of the Palazzo, Admiral Crews at her side, and she found that she was still clinging to his arm. Jill and Dolph came behind, dressed in fine—though not quite so elaborate—outfits, her gown yellow and his coat a deep red. They were flanked by Sergeant Morris, Moley, Midnight and Crabs—if they had brought anymore of the Ravens, she was worried it would look like a show of force. Alana hadn’t been to the square at night before, and it was startling to see it lit so brilliantly. The lamps that rose from the ground in neat straight lines, like burning carrot tops in a field, spread evenly out into the rest of the city, their gas-lit flames shining brightly in the night and casting away the shadows. She could see now why it was called the City of Lights.
Alana was introduced to the same officious looking man as the previous day, now stationed at the foot of the stairs and equipped with a long list and a pen. He checked them off and then waved her up the stairs without making eye contact once. “Your guards are to remain outside. Your staff should remain at the sides of the hall,” he said, while already ushering the next party forwards.
Sergeant Morris wished her a pleasant evening and moved his team off to the side, his fingers straying to a pocket at his belt where Alana knew he kept his pipe. Ascending the carpeted stairs, they entered the great hall; empty and cold the day before, now full of hundreds of men and women dressed in their finery. She had been slightly concerned that she was going to be over dressed, knowing little about Iothan fashion, so Alana was relieved to see women moving around wearing extremely elaborate headgear. It appeared as though there was a competition related to the height of one’s hat, and she was grateful to see that she wasn’t in contention.
They walked through the attendees, most giving her party only passing attention. One gentleman did a double take and looked back and forth between her and Jill as they went over to the side of the room where the other attendants of the guests were forced to wait. Jill wished her luck for the evening and gave her words of encouragement, while Dolph made a comment about being left where there weren’t any drinks.
Crews and Alana said their goodbyes and progressed out into the crowd; a hanging chandelier of crystal suspended above their head, lit by what must have been a thousand candles, scattered rainbow sparkles across the attendees. A serious man, dressed in a floor-length black frock handed them glasses of sparkling wine from a silver tray without a word, before sweeping away to dispense the rest of his drinks. By a set of wide-open doors that led outside, likely to a terrace, were sat a dozen musicians playing a tune she didn’t recognize. Across the way she noticed the Saint standing by the Archimandrite. The boy waved, said something to the older priest, and weaved his way through the crowds towards her.
“Welcome, Alana Narring, to our Wintertide festivities,” said the puffed-up boy, dressed in a long white silk robe, intricately embroidered in gold. “This is all for me, you know,” he added proudly.
“It is amazing,” said Alana, unsure how to respond to such an observation, especially as now her presence was being remarked upon by the people nearby. She wasn’t sure what to make of the attention of the boy Saint; was it normal for him to be so generous with his time?
“Yes, it is. Did you enjoy the Blessing of the Sea?” The Saint held out his right hand for Alana to inspect. “Look, all healed. Not even a scar.” Alana touched the faint scar on her collar bone, the reminder of the assassin that almost took her life. The Saint looked at her with those piercing blue eyes and tilted his head. “It’s a different kind of magic,” he explained.
She nodded, though she was not sure she really understood. Alana had very little time to think today, it had been such a whirlwind since meeting the Saint this morning. She was again wrestling with her own lack of faith in Arloth. It was clear that, through this boy, Arloth did indeed exist. Where else could this magic come from? But if so, why had her parents been cruelly snatched away from her? They were good people.
The boy’s face fell, his broad smile replaced by a frown of sadness. “Arloth doesn’t control us, or lay out what happens to us. He helps us to be better versions of ourselves.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, mirroring his frown. “I’m sorry my lack of faith is disturbing.”
“That’s quite alright. I can see that my presence is troubling to you. I will let you enjoy yourself. There are many wonderful people who are most interested in talking to you now.” The boy looked around at the other guests, who were avidly watching their conversation. “Maybe you would like to dance later?”
Alana laughed. “Of course, that would be delightful.” She curtsied and he matched it with a bow before slipping away into the crowd.
Crews chuckled too. “I think someone has an admirer.”
“Admiral! He’s only a boy,” she said once she was sure he was out of earshot.
“I was a boy once, so believe me when I tell you he has a crush on you.” Crews stepped from her side to face her. “And why wouldn’t he? You look beautiful tonight.”
Alana was quite experienced in the art of blushing. Whenever she said something she was nervous about, she usually turned pink and hot in the cheeks and she would blurt whatever it was that she needed to get out. Now though, she blushed as she had never done before, a warmth and a prickle that stood out on her neck and chest. She didn’t know what to say to the Admiral’s welcome compliment—something else that was absurd to imagine just a year ago—and was grateful when a couple swept into their eye-line, obviously waiting to speak with them.
The man introduced himself as Actassi Sanfratello, a name she recognized from her research aboard ship as being a member of the ruling Assembly. She knew he was younger than most of the Assembly members, the role always passing to the eldest male of the thirteen families that supposedly originally founded Ioth. His father had died prematurely and now Actassi had taken his place. Accompanying him was a young woman who was quite clearly very pregnant.
“Ambassador Narring. I hope you will pass on my thanks to the Lord Protector for working to rebuild my warehouses in Kingshold after the troubling summer we had. I have heard good things about the work that is being done.”
Alana was excited to talk with this young man. He was on her list, knowing from her research that the Sanfratello family had a significant operation in Kingshold, unlike almost all of the other ruling families. Typically, it was the newer houses of Iothan merchants who had taken the risk of splitting their operations between their home and the upstart competitor, but Actassi’s father had taken the plunge a few decades ago. Jill had explained how that basically ruled him out of ever becoming Speaker, but the man had more interest in profit than politics. Alana herself hadn’t been too sure about the plan to rebuild on behalf of already wealthy merchants, but then again, she didn’t get a say in
those matters in the privy council. But she did know how that money could have been used in other ways in the outer districts. She decided not to mention her personal opinions.
“You’re very welcome. We appreciate the jobs and trade that you bring to Kingshold. What a beautiful evening this is.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” he said distractedly, as if the magical place that Alana found herself in was actually rather tiresome. He looked from side to side before speaking again. “I do hope that we can meet in person in the coming days. I would love to learn more about Edland’s intentions under the Lord Protector’s guidance.”
She was sure he would. But was he seeking favor for his business interests or a potential ally in larger issues? Alana supposed that for someone like Actassi the two always came together, so she agreed to seek him out the next day.
Other Assembly members and prominent merchants—though of course in Ioth, the former always meant the latter—came and introduced themselves and exchanged small talk. Some probed about life in Edland under Mareth. Others practically goaded her and Crews about the presence of Pyrfew; forced smiles and the sweet wine helping them to navigate such conversations. Strangely, a middle-aged gentleman that she thought she recognized from their entrance, inquired about the lady who attended her; he thought she was familiar and wondered if he may have seen her before. He excused himself, shaking his head, after Alana explained Jill’s background.
Interspersed between it all were other staff who brought around platters of food that could be eaten with their fingers; tiny tarts filled with goat’s cheese, plump olives wrapped in translucent slices of ham, tiny black fish eggs balanced on butter-smeared crackers. So many wonderful things that she had never tasted before. Alana chuckled watching the Admiral trying to balance the food with a drink in his hand. She was sure that he’d not been brought up eating on his feet; for Alana, it was the only way she managed some sustenance when working in the palace.
Catching her smiling at him, Crews spilled the topping from its little fried bread base on to his lapel. Alana laughed at his cursing and his bungled attempt to wipe it clean. “Give me that,” she said, grabbing the handkerchief from his hand. As she cleaned the stain, she was conscious of her proximity to Crews, recalling their sparring from the previous day. In spite of herself, and the occasional provocations, she found she was enjoying herself and the company of the Admiral. At least until Silka Nie introduced herself.
Silka was a striking woman, likely in her mid-thirties and unlike most of the women in the room, she was unaccompanied. She interrupted Alana’s grooming of Crews to shake their hands.
“It’s very nice to meet you both,” gushed Silka. “I do feel an affinity for Edland. I was born in Redpool, though I call Ioth home now.”
“What is it you do?” asked Crews, getting straight to the point.
“Much like everyone here, I’m in business. Trading. Shipping. Investing. Underwriting. Wherever there is a chance to make coin. I specialize in taking advantage of those who underestimate a woman.” She laughed. “That’s why I set up shop here. I wouldn’t have quite the advantage in Redpool or Kingshold, I assure you.”
“Fascinating,” said Alana, her mind sparking to life. Of course, she knew that all the Assembly members were men, but hadn’t really given much thought to the fact that the rest of Iothan society was also male. She almost pinched herself for her stupidity.
“The Lord Protector must be very clever. Sending you. Putting a butcher in the pig pen.”
Alana wondered about that. She doubted that Mareth had really given it much thought. She was fairly certain that if Neenahwi had been around then Mareth would have sent her on this mission. Or Chancellor Grey if he could have spared her. It was a strange occurrence that those closest to Mareth, and those most responsible, were all women. She couldn’t have imagined Motega having the patience for all this. Even though he was in the city somewhere.
“He does have quite the strategic mind,” fibbed Alana, drawing a questioning eyebrow from Crews.
“I wanted you to know, that if there is anything I can do to help you, then please do let me know. I don’t like seeing Pyrfew troops around my home. I remember their threat all too well. Thankfully, I don’t see any of them here tonight.”
“Thank you,” said Alana gratefully. “I would like to take you up on that offer. I am not sure Edland has too many friends here anymore.”
“Let me guess, you’ve heard that from the Speaker?”
“He’s not the only one unfortunately.”
Crews touched Alana on the arm. “Excuse me, Ambassador,” he said formally. “I see someone I must talk with. It was a pleasure to meet you Ms. Nie.” Silka nodded her head in farewell as Crews hurried away at a trot.
“May I ask—and please, tell me if I should mind my own business,” Silka began, drawing closer with a hushed tone. “What did you talk to the Speaker about?”
Well, news did seem to travel fast in this city. She wondered whether it was merely her meeting that was being reported or if there was a story of their discussion being circulated. Sensing an opportunity to understand and potentially gain an ally, Alana shared the contents of her conversation with the Speaker.
“You did not give up any of the names of the people that met with you at your residence?” This revelation shocked Alana. Was she going to be able to do anything without all and sundry knowing about it?
“No, of course not. Though he warned me away from having any similar conversations.”
“I saw you at the Blessing of the Sea this afternoon, from the balcony of my house on the grand canal. I’m sure you must have heard the calls of disapproval?” Alana nodded. “Some of that was for the Archimandrite. Horrible man. But some of that was for you. Many of those people who met with you were arrested yesterday by the city guard. You’re the one being blamed for sharing that with the Speaker. I wouldn’t be surprised if he himself had the rumor started.”
Alana felt the blood drain from her face, ‘I never… I wouldn’t…’ She choked on her words as bile rose in her throat. It was like Silka had punched her in the stomach. “What will become of them?”
Silka shrugged. “Likely taken to the Cage. Those families haven’t stayed in power for so long without taking care of threats. A few weeks and they’ll be released, the warning clear that they might not survive their stay next time.” Alana gulped at the thought. “I believe that you had nothing to do with it—the offer still stands. Let’s talk.” Silka put out her hand and Alana shook it distractedly. The merchant left and Alana remained standing alone in the middle of the celebration, feeling like the carpet had been pulled out from under her.
Another glass of wine appeared under her nose as she gaped at the marble-tiled floor. Admiral Crews held it out for her.
“You look like you need another one.” Alana didn’t answer but she did take the drink. “I saw Napona DiPallo. The man who runs the Armory. I convinced him to give me a tour and talk ship building.” Crews looked pleased with himself, but Alana was finding it difficult to share his excitement. “What did she say after I left?” he asked. “Belay that. Tell me later. I think you need a dance to take your mind off it.”
Though reluctant at first, Alana danced, and danced. And as her feet moved—the guiding touch of Crews on her hand and waist—she pushed the guilt down, knowing she would be revisiting it later. She’d never danced so much before, and though she was initially wary of not knowing all the prescribed steps she soon picked it up, or near enough not to be self-conscious; Crews was a good teacher.
They talked and laughed, with people that came and introduced themselves, but more and more with just each other as the night progressed. At one point she supposed that they could have left but she was enjoying herself, and she was interested to hear what the Speaker would say at his midnight toast. Occasionally she glanced over to the side of the room and saw Dolph sitting sullenly by the wall, Jill the subject of attention of a succession of male attendees. Crews not
iced where she was looking, and then she felt his hand rest gently on the small of her back.
“Why don’t we go out to the terrace for some fresh air?” he asked.
Walking out, side by side, they passed people they had met earlier that evening, now starting to appear worse for wear. Their faces flushed, the volume of conversation much louder, she realized that she was feeling a little giddy herself. The cool crisp air of the evening that hit her as she stepped out on to the elevated terrace, passing the musicians who had yet to stop for a break, was a welcome relief. They moved over to the railing and looked out across the city, the lights from the gas lamps illuminating the dark of Ioth like the mirror image of the stars in the heavens above. Jill was right, it was beautiful.
“How do they have lights like this?” she wondered.
“Flammable gas apparently,” said Crews. Alana looked at him in surprise. “I do know more than just ships, my lady. I have been to Ioth before and wondered the same question. Apparently, there is a well of gas that comes from the sea bed here, naturally trying to force its way to the surface. First it lit Arloth’s beacons, and then someone, I can’t remember his name, worked out how to create the pipes to carry the gas around the city.”
“Amazing,” she said, imagining the network of pipes crisscrossing underneath the streets. Her thoughts were interrupted as bells across the city tolled the eleventh hour. A thought occurred to her as they pealed. “Do you think it has anything to do with the fire ships that you and Neenahwi described?”
“Maybe…” he said. “I will ask about it when I visit the Armory—”
Crews was cut off by a shrill scream from inside the hall, quickly followed by other cries. The music stopped. He looked at Alana, concern on his face and his hand reaching for the rapier he wore at his belt.
“Stay here,” he said. “Be safe. I’ll be back in a moment.”
He dashed inside and Alana, heart pounding, stood there wondering what to do. Other guests were out on the terrace, the flickering gas lamps illuminated their faces stricken with confusion. She tried to peer through the doorway from afar, but could only see the frantic movements of the guests rushing away from something. Some fell to the floor, as if pushed from behind by an invisible hand, and the screams became more intense.
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