“If I can’t be bothered to help my patron prepare for the party of the year, then I shouldn’t bother helping her with the important things, either.” Spotting an empty boat, Brigette led us to the canal, climbed aboard, and gave our destination to the pilot.
“I won’t tell you how to do your job...” she said as I settled across from her.
The pilot pushed with his oar, shooting us into the middle of the canal.
“If you don’t tell me how to do mine.”
“Fine, but are you sure you’re up to the tasks in store for you?”
The muscles around her eyes tightened. She cocked her head askew. “Fighting Le Poing Fermé, you mean?”
“We haven’t really talked about it. At first I was simply hoping you’d accept the job. Now that you have, I’m curious about your thoughts.”
Her eyes turned upward, gazing at the strip of blue sky peering between the buildings on either side of us. “Tashiana is my half-sister. Did she tell you that? We have different fathers.”
Instead of questioning her abrupt change of subject, I went along with it, hoping she was leading me to an answer via a roundabout path. Sometimes that was easier than being direct. “I suspected something like that. You two have different accents, for instance, and you don’t really look alike, except for your eyes.”
“Our mother’s eyes.” She nodded. “She was from Jzaver, the largest country in Agridan. Tashi was born there, too, but her father died when she was a small girl. She and my mother moved to Galland when my mother married my father. I was born and raised in Pecia.”
Our pilot steered us around a sharp bend, and I clutched the side of the boat as it rocked. When it steadied, I released a breath. Isolas’s canal system was fascinating, but that didn’t mean I wanted to try swimming in its murky waters. “Then what were you doing in Dreutch?”
“Tashi and my father never got along. She left home as soon as she was old enough. After I quit university, it was too painful to remain in Pecia, too painful standing in my father’s shadow. I moved to Steinerland to be closer to Tashi. Everything went downhill after that. If it weren’t for my sister, I’m not sure I would have lasted as long as I did.”
“So, your father... He’s Magical?”
“Very. One of the strongest among his peers.”
A tingle crawled across my shoulders, a sense of foreboding. “And compared to him, you are...?” Maybe it was rude to press her for such personal information, but a large part of my fate, and the fate of my kingdom, rested on the shoulders of the young woman sitting across from me. Her answer was vital to our success.
She slumped and lowered her eyes. “If I had finished university, and if I didn’t have these headaches, I might’ve been as powerful as him.” She pinched a bit of her skirt fabric between her fingers and rolled it into a knot. Silence surrounded us for several heartbeats, but then she straightened her spine and raised her eyes to mine. “I might have my weaknesses, but I am your best chance against Le Poing Fermé. We’ll have to hope the gods that brought us this far continue to move fate in our favor.”
I took her hand and squeezed it. Her answer was the best I could hope for. Either way, this was the path I had chosen, and for better or worse, she’d agreed to travel it with me. “We’re in this together, Brigette. If it means anything to you, I’m glad you’re here.”
She gave me a wry grin. “I hope you feel the same after I finish getting you ready for this ball tonight.”
***
I sat before the vanity mirror in my bedroom, wearing my sleeveless, strapless, and exceedingly low-cut blue gown. Night had fallen thick and dark outside, and storm clouds had rolled in, blotting out the stars. I wondered if the weather was a natural occurrence or a response to the current of tension thrumming in my veins. As the hour of the Marenatos’ party drew closer, my anxiety increased.
Niffin and Malita sat nearby at a small table beside my room’s balcony windows, drinking wine, eating a late supper, and entertaining themselves by poking fun at me while Brigette put the finishing touches on my hair.
“Can you scream like a peacock too?” Malita asked, giggling.
“You have peacocks in Nri?” I asked.
“Not like those.” She pointed at the feathers adorning my mask, which sat on the vanity, taunting me. “But Niffin took me to see them at the home of a rich man in Varynga.” She shuddered. “They scream like death.”
“Well, if Brigette pulls my hair any tighter, I might scream like death too.” I shot my torturer a murderous glare in the mirror. She snorted as she twirled her finger, winding my hair into another curl. Smoke swirled from a lit djageesh cigarette sitting in a saucer at the edge of my vanity. Every so often, she took a puff. Fitting me into the dress, fixing my hair and makeup, and adding a few elaborate gemstone touches to the dress’s hem and bodice had required a bit of Magic. She assured me her discomfort was more than bearable. Still, I hated that something as frivolous as rouged cheeks and curly hair had caused her pain.
“So, Niffin,” I said, “is there anything else I should know?” According to what he’d found at the Biblioteca di Isola, the Marenato family always kept one Magician and at least one apprentice on staff. The society section of an old newspaper said their Magician, Bartolomeo DeLaguna, had attended the Marenatos’ masquerade last year wearing his usual black mask styled like a horned beast—something from the nightmares of children, from the sound of it.
“He wears the same thing every year, black-and-gold robes and that mask,” he said. “DeLaguna should be easy to find.”
“Is he actually a governing member of the Council of Magic?” DeLaguna was useless if he had no helpful connections.
“The Council’s members are not usually known to the public,” Brigette said, “but I told you I went to school with one of his apprentices. If that boy could be believed, DeLaguna is on the Council.”
“What about the apprentice?” I asked. “Will he be at the party?”
“The papers didn’t mention him,” Niffin said.
“His name is Taviano Pesce.” Brigette rolled her eyes. “According to his bragging, he always attends the Marenato masquerade.”
“You might have better luck with the apprentice.” Niffin winked at me. “If the papers are to be believed, DeLaguna is not particularly interested in young women.”
“Then maybe you should be the one attending this party,” I said. “There are few men or women who can keep their eyes off you, Niffin.”
A deep blush bloomed in his cheeks. He busied himself with pouring more wine.
“Taviano doesn’t share his master’s preferences.” Brigette yanked another curl into my hair, and my scalp tingled—some from Magic but mostly from pain. “At university, he always had a flock of pretty little chickens following him wherever he went.”
“How would I recognize him?”
She swirled a hand around her head. “Has striking hair, not too common among the local population. Pale blond. Almost white.” She fluttered her fingers. “Kind of flies around his head like cobwebs.”
“Again, another helpful coincidence,” I said, “that you went to school with this boy.”
She snorted. “It’s not like there are many Magical universities on the Continent, and almost none to the caliber of the one in Pecia. The Magical world is small, and our circles frequently intersect. I’d be more surprised if I didn’t know him.”
“It was impossible to find current information about the Council,” Niffin said, having recovered from his blushing episode. “Although...” He grinned like a fox and withdrew a rolled parchment from inside his coat. He must have been holding it there for a while, waiting for the right moment to surprise me. I recognized Malita’s bold strokes as he unrolled it. “My lovely partner was able to make a copy of the blueprints for the basilica that we found in a very, very old book of records from the time when Isolas received its original charter from the queen of Venitizia.”
My breath stilled. “Blueprints? Of the basilica?”
“I do not know how useful they will be unless we can get inside. Even then, how will we know where they are keeping Faercourt?”
“I suppose that’s what I’m going to have to try to find out.” I gestured to myself as though I were some ornamentation on display in a rich man’s drawing room. In a tone saturated with sarcasm, I said, “How could anyone resist my charm and appeal?”
“I may have something to help you with that.” Brigette flashed a sharp smile, and her eyes glinted. From her pocket she withdrew a gold necklace as slim and fine as spider’s silk. A small pendant shaped like a flame dangled from the chain. “I’ve been working on this for a while, not knowing when it would come in handy but suspecting it would.”
“What is it?” I asked, afraid to touch it for fear of breaking it.
“It’s a necklace.”
I gave her a sour look.
She grinned. “It belonged to my mother—a gift from my father—and I keep it with me always. Tonight, I’m lending it to you. This necklace has always given its wearer a limited resistance to Magic—no one can Magically force you to do anything you consciously don’t want to do. But I’ve also been weaving a candor spell into the links. It will make anyone who comes in close contact with you inclined to speak honestly. It won’t force anyone to confess anything against their will, but if you can get them to talk, you’ll be able to trust what they say is true.”
She fastened the necklace around my neck, patted my shoulder, and stepped away. “You’re a work of art, if I do say so myself.”
