Shadowplay Read online

  “Thank you, my sweet! I was wondering where that was,” she said, hanging the glass in the window so that the playing cards dangling from strings shone purple in the light. She resumed her post behind the counter, wrapping the purchases as we brought them to her.

  My eye fell upon the cabinet with the Vestige artifacts for sale, but I stayed far away from the crystal ball. I wanted no more visions.

  “When we have our first show, we’ll be sure to invite you,” Maske said, smiling at her. “We may be performing séances shortly as well.”

  She clapped her hands together. “Oh, please do let me know when you perform! I consider myself quite the spiritualist. I went to a séance at Lady Archer’s not long ago – she was a frequent customer o’ my late husband’s – and it was so frightening my heart just about burst from my chest. Lady Archer communed with her long-lost brother, and she had no doubts that it was him. Not a doubt in the world. I haven’t been to one since, but I’d dearly love to!”

  “Of course, my lady,” Maske said, making a show of bowing to her. “Could we arrange for the larger purchases to be delivered?”

  “No problem at all, sir, no problem at all! Tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow will be fine,” he assured her. “Just to the Kymri Theatre, please.”

  She bobbed her head. “That’s an awfully nice building. Is it just as pretty inside?”

  “It’s a beautiful building, though sadly in a state of disrepair.”

  “Oh, but if you hold performances there I’ve no doubt you’ll spruce the place up. I know a nice florist, if you need, closer to opening night. Bouquets of roses do ever so brighten a place.”

  Maske nodded to us. “You three run into town if you like. Mrs Verre and I have made arrangements to meet for a cup of tea.”

  “Oh, have you now?” Drystan drawled, amused.

  “Indeed. Off you go.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Drystan said gallantly to Lily, giving her a bow before we stepped out onto the cobbled street.

  “She’s a good-looking woman but I can’t say I see what attracts him. That woman is exhausting,” Drystan said once free of the shop.

  “She’s nice!” I protested.

  “She’s very… enthusiastic,” Cyan said, diplomatically.

  “She’s nice,” I insisted. It was refreshing to be around someone who had such a sunny disposition. So often people were full of doom and gloom. Maybe that’s what Maske liked about her.

  Drystan frowned. “What’s that?”

  Up ahead, we heard shouting. A group of people holding signs marched down the street, and we were swept up with them and herded toward Golden Square in front of the Snakewood Palace.

  “What is this?” I cried over the din. The yelling coalesced into chanting.

  Men and women crowded the square, holding signs and chanting “Equality! For the Tree!” over and over, their voices rising to a fevered pitch. The horde blocked traffic. Men and women driving carriages and carts yelled obscenities, adding to the fray. The gates of the palace were locked, grim guards posted behind the wrought iron.

  The palace lay in the center of the city, the three large Penglass domes peeking over the roof. It was costly to integrate Penglass into architecture, as it was so smooth that buildings erected around it tended to leak. I wondered if the young Princess Royal peeked out from behind one of the closed shutters.

  We were caught within the press of people, Cyan and Drystan pushing against me, Cyan’s elbow digging into my side.

  “What should we do?” I yelled over the melee. We stumbled toward the middle of the square. I could not believe how many people there were. I knew a bit about the Forester party. They wanted to abolish the monarchy and establish a democracy like Southern Temne. But I always imagined they were a small faction. This protest made me realize that, as first a noble’s daughter and then as a circus performer, I was, in many ways, out of touch with how Ellada actually felt.

  Drystan pointed toward a staircase at the corner of the square. While it was filled with people, it wasn’t the same crush, and we’d be able to take the pedestrian bridge to escape. We pushed our way through the throng, people stepping on our feet. I smelled unwashed bodies, coal dust from workers, and cheap perfume. Some were trying to profit from the protest, selling food and blank sign boards, a bucket of paint at the ready. People were chanting so many slogans that I could no longer tell what anyone was saying.

  A commotion at the podium in front of the palace made us pause. A man appeared, and in the push and pull of the throng, he was the picture of calm, holding his arms out. He was tall and blocky, wearing simple clothes, though they fit him well, with mutton chops on his cheeks. I recognized the face instantly, from both my vision during the first visit to Twisting the Aces and from the flyer foisted into my hands afterwards.

  Some people chanted his name: “Timur, Timur, Timur.”

  The leader of the Foresters. Rumor had it that he once worked for the bureaucracy before he became disgusted with politics and took matters into his own hands. Nobody knew his full name. He rarely appeared in public.

  “People of Imachara,” he said. “It is time to reclaim our rights. For too long have we been the servants of those who claim themselves higher than us. It is time to bring equality to the entire tree, from the roots to the highest of branches.”

  People cheered and he smiled at them magnanimously. Something about his manner reminded me of the ringmaster of the circus. He had an air of the showman about him. The air of a liar.

  “I do not wish for violence. I wish this to be a peaceful change. A government where the people have the right to make the decisions of our country, and not just the monarchy and the nobility. Ellada is wearing down. As more Vestige breaks, we are left weaker and more vulnerable than ever before. But what will the current power do about this? I do not know. Do you?”

  People cried out that they didn’t, stamping their feet.

  “We are not autonomous. We need far more from the former colonies than they want to give. They are bleeding us dry, my brothers and sisters. But through negotiations and diplomacy, perhaps a new government, free from the taint of the empire, will make a true and lasting peace with our neighbors.”

  I could not trust him, despite his pretty words. There was something he was leaving out, some plan beyond the promises he was offering.

  “Bollocks,” Drystan whispered next to me.

  Below us, the carpet of people screamed in agreement with Timur, from the gates of the palace onto the spiral of streets. It was madness. Despite promises of peace, a fight broke out on a corner, two men tussling. People backed away to give them room. One of the brawlers picked up his discarded sign, which read: “LEAVES FOR ALL”. He smashed it over the other man’s head. I sucked in my breath and grabbed Drystan’s clammy hand. I did not need to glance at him to know that the gesture reminded us of Drystan’s fatal swipe at the ringmaster with his own cane.

  But the man below was not dead. He staggered to his feet, wooden splinters in his hair. More men joined the fray, swinging fists. I heard the distant wail of sirens and a group of policiers pushed through the crowd, and more sentries emerged from the palace gates.

  “Something tells me this won’t end well,” Drystan said.

  Down below, I saw a distinctive hat. “Look,” I pointed. “It can’t be–”

  “It might be.”

  All three of us stared at the hat as it moved and bobbed its way through the people. The man paused and looked up toward the palace. I could just see his profile, but my eyes were keen enough to know that it was the Shadow.

  “It’s him,” I said. We’d planned to leave Cyan and find the Shadow on our own, and here he was, right in front of us. Was he here looking for us?

  “Someone’s looking for you?” Cyan asked.

  I said nothing.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get out of here before the mystery man finds you.”

  The three of us dodged the crowd and ma
de our way down the flight of steps back to the other side of the cobbled street. We ducked into an alleyway and waited for him to pass. When he did, none of us dared to breathe, terrified that he would see us. The Shadow continued without a sideways glance. We made our way toward the Nickel Quarter.

  The people were thick enough to give us cover but not impede us. My breath caught in my throat as we followed. Perhaps he would take us back to the same building. Or perhaps he would take us somewhere else.

  Cyan’s gaze fixed on the hat. For a moment, I was worried that this was a ploy – that she knew exactly who he was. Why else would he have been here at the same time as us, in the entire sprawl of Imachara? When she saw me looking, her features smoothed. Did she know him?

  The Shadow walked with purpose, head up, back straight, hands deep in his pockets. A balloon vendor obscured our vision, and we impatiently pushed around her. When we emerged from behind the multi-colored balloons, we barely saw him turn a corner. Our feet thumped along the cobblestones.

  He stopped in front of a tenement. We jumbled to a halt. The back of Cyan’s hand brushed mine, her skin warm. With bated breath, we watched as the Shadow slid a key from his pocket into the lock and made his way inside.

  “It’s no use,” I moaned. “It’ll be just like the other building, where we’ll never see him again, and it’s not as if we know which room is his, even if he does live here.”

  “You need to know where he lives?” Cyan asked.

  We said nothing.

  “I have an idea.” Cyan walked toward the door of the building. Drystan and I followed at a safe distance, poised to run if it turned out she was in league with the Shadow.

  Cyan shook her hair from its plait, letting it flow free down her back. She let her shawl hang closer to her elbows. The collar of her dress was high, but the posture was still alluring. She glanced back at us and gave us a dazzling smile. We both gawped back.

  Confidently, she rapped on the door and spoke to the porter, with much flicking of her hair.

  “Why do I have the feeling she’s done this before?” I wondered aloud.

  “Oh, she most definitely has,” Drystan said, admiringly.

  My merriment faded. Drystan’s eyes locked on her as she charmed the doorman. I had never learned such feminine wiles. My childhood friend Anna Yew had mastered the art of flirting – gazing coquettishly over a fan at a ball, knowing just what to say to have men hanging onto her every word. I’d always been the one to make them laugh. But now, I had not mastered masculine wiles, either, come to think of it.

  Looking at Cyan so comfortable in her skin struck me to the core. I could never imagine flirting with such assurance. The porter blushed beet red, and when he answered her questions, she giggled and kissed him on the cheek before sauntering back toward us, her hair swaying from side to side.

  I fought the urge to harrumph. The curl of Drystan’s lips made me wonder if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

  “Well, you’re in a pretty pickle, and that’s the truth,” she said. “What with a Shadow after you and all.”

  “Um,” I said. But there was a tension in her neck and shoulders, and she glanced over her shoulder at the building.

  As if she sensed my gaze, she relaxed into a smile.

  “Shadow Kam Elwood lives on the third floor in suite G,” she said.

  “Wow,” Drystan said. “Well done, Miss Cyan.”

  “He’s evidently a nice enough fellow. Tips now and again and always has a smile.”

  “How did you get him to tell you that?” I asked. And did you know his name already? I wanted to ask.

  “I said I was one of his clients’ maids, and that she was so impressed with his service that she wanted to surprise him with a present. She knew the building but not the number to send it to, and struggled with the spelling of his name.”

  “Wow, he’s a gullible fellow,” Drystan said.

  “I suppose he is. Rather handsome, though, don’t you think?”

  “His face is a bit too blocky for my tastes,” Drystan said, deadpan.

  She laughed. “Aha! I knew it!”

  “Knew what?” Drystan said, innocent as a lamb.

  She chuckled. “Pity, you’re just my type. What about you, Sam?”

  “Oh, so I’m second choice? Way to make a boy feel special,” I drawled.

  She glanced between us. “Aha. I see.”

  Drystan did not miss a beat and smirked, snaking his hand around my shoulders. I sputtered as the implication sunk in. I shot a glance at Drystan. His expression only said “come on, play along.”

  I rested my healed broken arm around his slender waist, leaning against him. It did not feel like playing along. The memory of putting my hand around Aenea’s waist cut me, and I almost took my hand away.

  Cyan sashayed ahead of us, her hair swaying like a pendulum.

  When she was out of earshot, he leaned close: “She knows more than she’s letting on.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  Drystan kept his arm about my shoulders the entire walk home.

  12

  THE VANISHING GIRL

  “Oftentimes the answers that you seek are not the ones you were expecting to receive.”

  Elladan proverb.

  There was a knock on the door.

  We all started. I spilled a bit of my tea on the worn table. The knock sounded again. Cyan, Drystan and I all froze like rabbits spotted by a fox.

  “I’ll get it,” Maske said, amused at our apprehension.

  We waited as his heavy footsteps made their way down the hall. Who was it? Shadow Elwood? The constabulary? Should we run?

  “Good morning, Madame! Ah, I see all the parcels are here. Always a pleasure for such a lovely woman to stand on my threshold.” Maske called, loud enough for us to hear. I heard a giggle. “Oh my, what a rogue you are, Jasper!”

  Jasper? I mouthed at Cyan and Drystan, raising an eyebrow.

  “Come in, come in,” Maske said. “Leave the parcels here in the hallway and then you must have a cup of tea. No, no, I insist, just leave them there in the hallway. I’ll put young Amon and Sam’s backs to work later.”

  Drystan and I exchanged an alarmed glance. Why did Maske invite her inside? Luckily our Glamours were on, as we didn’t yet trust Cyan.

  Lily entered the kitchen, well turned out in a dress of cobalt blue trimmed in black lace. A ridiculous hat festooned with feathers and veils sat perched upon her head. She looked about in wide-eyed wonder.

  “This place is a marvel. An utter marvel,” she said. “I can’t wait to see it when it’s bright and cheery.”

  “Is it as gloomy as that, my dear Mrs Verre?” Maske asked.

  “Just a little,” she said, crinkling her eyes at him. “It needs a good dusting, that’s for sure! When it gets closer to the time for you to open, I’d be happy to come lend a hand on an afternoon.”

  I frowned, not sure if we should be letting strangers into the theatre.

  “You are too kind, my lady,” Maske demurred, but two spots of color appeared on his cheekbones.

  My eyebrows rose.

  “Oh, Jasper, I’m no lady, so call me Lily.” She waved her hand carelessly and then sipped her tea, crinkling her eyes at Maske. She only had eyes for him and barely glanced at the rest of us. I considered Maske. He was a fine-looking man, with those doleful eyes and mysterious smile.

  The cat, Ricket, stretched and padded his way over to investigate the new intruder. Lily crouched under the table to say hello. We perched around the table. Lily and Maske flirted with each other. Cyan hid a smile behind her hand.

  Lily chatted away, her mind jumping from topic to topic with a speed I could not follow. Soon, I gave up and just watched in amazement as she kept on.

  After drinking three cups of tea, Lily begged to use “the facilities” before making her way back home. I escorted her to the washroom, not wanting her curiosity to lead her down darkened hallways. As I waited for her, I rubbed my temples. Maybe D
rystan was right, and small doses of Lily Verre were more than enough.

  “This place is a treasure trove!” she exclaimed as we walked back to the kitchen. “Well and truly. My offer to help make it presentable still stands. I mean it,” she said, taking my hand in hers.

  “We’ll definitely keep you in mind.” I disengaged my hand. The thought of an entire afternoon with her made my temples throb anew.

  She bid her farewells, giving each of us kisses on both cheeks. Her lips lingered on Maske’s, and his face split into an inane grin. Before Lily, I had a feeling it had been many years since a woman kissed him.

  “What a marvelous woman,” Maske said, more to himself than us. “Extraordinary. Such vivacity!” He shook his head in amazement.

  Drystan, Cyan, and I all exchanged smiles.

  “Well, that’s quite enough of that,” Maske said, briskly. “Let’s to our lessons.”

  It was dark inside the spirit cabinet.

  The bonds chafed my wrists and brought back memories of Bil leaning over me, the sharp smell of whisky on his breath, the pain as I dislocated my thumbs to break free. My breath came faster.

  “Are you ready?” Maske called.

  “Almost!” Drystan said. “Are you alright?” he whispered close to my ear.

  “I’ve remembered I don’t like being tied up overmuch.”

  “Ah.”

  Inhale. Exhale. I forced my breath to slow.

  “It’s fine,” he whispered. “Remember. You can escape these bonds at any time.” His lips rested against my forehead, light as a sparrow’s wing. He leaned away from me, though our shoulders still touched. The dim light fell on the eyelashes resting against the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose and the curl of his lips.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  “Ready!” Drystan called.

  “On my count,” Maske said. “One, two, three!”

  In a thrice, we were free from our bonds. Drystan dropped through the trapdoor at the bottom and I slipped behind the hidden mirrors.

  I heard the door open.