A Conjuring of Assassins, page 31
“Damizella.” Egerik nodded in acceptance of my compliments and, I thought, my boldness. “Housekeeper, you are dismissed. I shall ring when the lady and I are ready to proceed to the reception chamber, so you may ensure our guests’ wine cups are full when we enter.”
Though her serene expression did not change, Mistress Mella’s posture stiffened like drying fruit; she’d been named housekeeper when the merchant’s daughter was called lady. She withdrew with all the grace of a broomstick. My cheeks warmed with pleasure.
Amusement flickered across the ambassador’s fine mouth.
As ever when I was about the Lady Espe’s business, I heard her whispers in my head, teaching me: He induced exactly the reaction he wished in both of you. Be wary of his wiles.
Papa feared the ambassador intended to keep me here.
Egerik spread his arms in helpless whimsy. “A moment to finish my evening’s adornment, damizella. Then we shall have a brief private talk before we begin our evening’s exploration of destiny.”
Destiny! Feathers teased my skin.
Silent Cei proffered a short cape bordered with a hint of white ermine. Egerik twitched a finger, and the servant clasped the garment at his master’s shoulders, arranging the folds to drape beautifully.
The comfortable, windowless chamber hinted at an extensive wardrobe. Three great closets lined the walls. One stood open, revealing suit after suit of rich fabrics, and trays of collars, jewels, and other ornaments. Papa would sniff at the “lack of abundant fashion” in the ambassador’s expensive garments. He would also grind his teeth at the evidence of so much coin paid to a cloth merchant other than himself.
Anxiety rippled through me like distant lightning in summer. Though I had spent years craving release from Papa’s schemes, his drunken collapse worried me. He had sworn to Egerik that he would be here watching out for me. Certain, I did not need him at my side, not with gracious Lady Espe in my heart. But Papa did care for me and did not entirely trust Egerik, a sentiment I shared. I must follow my Lady’s course this night, but I must make sure to check on Papa when I could.
Cei lifted a plain, gold pectoral chain from an open jewel case and laid it over Egerik’s shoulders. Once it was positioned in perfect symmetry, the servant withdrew, leaving us alone.
Egerik twirled a finger. “Turn around, damizella. Let me see all of you.”
I spun slowly, just enough to loft the gauzy mantle and silk gown. Fair enough recompense for such luxurious garments as he’d provided.
“Yes. You’ll do well. All day I’ve considered what name will reflect you best. First I thought Maura, for you revealed yourself with dark tidings, or perhaps Sancia, for you believe so deeply in the holiness of your calling.”
“What name, sirrah?”
He drew quite close and touched a finger to my lips. “Lesson number one. My servants, no matter how lovely they are or how intimate they might be with the divine Twins, do not speak to me or to my guests without my permission. Ever. Frivolous words interfere with observation and with listening. The tides of the world often move in silence … and we who heed them need our quietude.”
I quickly averted my eyes so he could not see my dismay. I had assumed that a handmaid of Lady Fortune would not be so bound or restricted as his lesser servants.
As if he’d heard my thoughts, Egerik’s fingers raised my chin and held it firm, fixing his gaze to my own.
“Lovely damizella, I believe a most lively and complex spirit exists beneath your sincere devotions and your affectations of simplicity. I saw it when you draped silk across your arm yesterday as you partnered with your oafish father. And”—his finger traced lightly along my jaw and down my silver-worked silk bodice—“when you purposefully drew my attention here.” He tapped Lady Fortune’s lacewing pendant resting at my breast.
“But when you read your needles, I perceived the certain touch of the divinely exquisite. Between that and your extraordinary beauty, I knew I had to possess that lively spirit. But the name must fit as perfectly as the garments. Thus, for as long as you reside in my house, you will be known as Mistress Viviana of the Nine Mysteries.”
Certain, I had invited him to look at me that morning to distract him from our cheating. But a new name? Divinely exquisite? My bowels squirmed.
My perturbation only encouraged his teasing smile. Shameless, he molded that smile into paternal concern. “Do you wish to refuse my patronage, dear lady? In an instant, my bell can summon Mistress Mella to strip off this finery and send you packing with the oaf.”
I’d waited for the Lady’s call all my life. Certain, I could not refuse it. Her voice was so clear inside me even now: You are my voice and my hand, Monette di Fabroni. My devoted servant. Mine alone. Trust me and I shall guide you through this strange man’s world. Together we shall not only foretell, but shape his destiny.
Exalted by such intimacy, I knew what I had to do, even if it meant unwanted concourse with this man. I shook my head to refuse escape and dipped my knee. I would remain obedient, but proud, too, my true submission to the voice inside me.
Egerik held out his open palms. “If you choose to stay, then lay your hands atop mine, and as you look me in the eye, tell me you understand that my rules are your law and that my decisions for your life will stand unchallenged.”
I laid my palms on his and faced him squarely. With the Lady’s help, I devised words to ensure my position was clear.
“I accept that your rules are the law of your household, Excellency. As the price of the great honor you do me, I humbly accept that your decisions shall bind me in all mortal dealings. But with the greatest respect, the honor you offer as payment truly belongs to my divine Mistress, Lady Espe, who has granted me her favor. Thus, her will must ever be my truest guide, lest her whispers sour and my talents fail your need.”
His hands twitched. But his hard expression did not change, and after a moment, he lifted my hands, kissed them—a very dry kiss, I would call it—and smiled, slightly less smug than he’d been earlier. “A proper ordering. I would never presume to interfere in your relationship with Lady Fortune.”
Pleasure swelled my breast. I had defied him ever so slightly and prevailed. My fingers flew to my pendant and felt the rich threads of silk and silver beneath. This was how a humble diviner’s own fortune would be made.
“Now, Viviana, you shall accompany me to my reception room. I thought a familiar venue might help put you at ease.” He wrapped my fingers about his crook of his arm. “There will be several guests there—and more later. You will pay them no heed. Your eyes will either be lowered or fixed to me alone, and you will speak only when I tell you. You will show me proper deference and follow my guidance in all things. Is that clear?”
“Very clear, Excellency.”
As he rang a hanging bell, he glanced at me, a bright eagerness in his complexion. “Another rule. You will address me as Master.”
“As you say … Master.”
“When the proper time arises, I shall present you to the company. You will invoke your mystic arts and cast your needles as the Lady guides you. But you will voice your interpretation only in response to specific questions I ask, no matter what else you might glean from the needles’ positioning. If no answer is to be found to my question, then that is what you say. Whatever is left unspoken, you will report later when we are private. Do you understand?”
I hesitated, trying to decide if what he asked would compromise Lady Espe in any way. Such a man might expect spoken interpretations shaped to his own desires.
“I can certainly do as you wish, Master. But I must report only the truth of my interpretation, which, as you heard yesterday, is often a realm of possibility rather than a clear answer. I cannot shape that answer to what I suppose might please you. Is that acceptable?”
“Indeed so. I desire Fortune’s true guidance. I am a believer, Viviana, just as you are. You have no value to me if you lie, omit, dissemble, or otherwise shade your words.”
No mistaking his sincerity. His broad brow and fine mouth were firm and eager, his clear eyes unblinking and most serious.
I dipped my head in acceptance. “Then I accept your preference. I’ve not done such a focused casting, but I’ve heard it deemed a productive method. Will the guests ask questions, too?”
His hungry gaze devoured me as if I were a Kairysian pastry. “If it seems useful, I may allow it. But if so, you will address me alone. No one else. Now. Silence and deference. Eyes down.”
Egerik lifted my hand as if I were a proper lady and escorted me through a short passage where handsome Cei waited to open the door.
26
THE DAY OF THE PRISONER TRANSFER
LATE AFTERNOON
“His Excellency Egerik di Sinterolla, Ambassador to the Independency of Cantagna by appointment of Her Eminence Cerelia Balbina Andreana di Vizio, Protector of Mercediare and the Two Hundred Islands.”
It seemed a year at least since Papa and I had first heard Cei’s introduction, thinking we were to make our fortune selling counterfeit cloth-of-gold. How much had changed in the span of a day!
Heed everything, daughter. Even within his rules, you can observe. The guests. The furnishings. The arrangements. Listen to what’s spoken … and unspoken.
Truly this must be my destined course, as the Lady’s whispers sounded ever so much clearer than before. I whispered a prayer of gratitude as we swept into the chamber swirling with the aromas of perfumes and wine. We paused somewhere near the center of the room. The pale wood under my feet glowed with golden light.
“Greetings of evening, grand segnori,” announced Egerik, “may the hospitality of Mercediare and whisperings of the divine make this evening illuminating and profitable for you all.”
Grand segnori! Not just any guests, then, but heads of some of the oldest, wealthiest houses in Cantagna. Never had I imagined a foreign ambassador’s guests would be so illustrious.
“Who is this toothsome morsel at your side, Egerik?” This rude address was delivered in a nasal whine that set me to instant dislike. “Have you at last stripped off the weeds of mourning?”
Though he smiled easily, Egerik’s fingers twitched, pinching my fingers. Papa had made the same mistake of referring lightly to Egerik’s dead wife. Our informants had warned us that it had been a great love between them and that her death had been a grievous burden.
“Have a care, Segnoré di Savilli,” Egerik said, with a bite behind his smile, “this woman has intimate relations with the divine Lady Espe. Even my inferior Mercediaran education suggests that the title you aspire to cannot divert your destiny from Lady Fortune’s influence.”
Savilli! A name of infamy. It was his father, the old segnoré, who had hired a sorcerer to cause a great explosion, killing half a hundred citizens! He’d been beheaded in the Piazza Cambio. One would think such a man’s heir could never show his face in company again. I supposed his riches and lands—the most of any Cantagnan save il Padroné himself—could buy an invitation anywhere. And title? We had no nobles in Cantagna, though long ago we’d been ruled by a grand duc, such as they had in Riccia.
The desire to look up at the rude man was near unbearable, but surely Egerik was watching closely here at the beginning to ensure I obeyed his orders. He tugged at my hand and I followed him toward the great windows, the source of the sunbeams that made the silver in my gown shimmer like early starlight. We stopped beside Egerik’s elegantly carved chair.
“Take your place, Viviana.” He pointed at the footstool where he’d sat me to display our samples.
I lowered myself to the stool as gracefully as I could and arranged my skirts, sleeves, and mantle as he would wish.
No! I was thinking as a servant. I must bend, but assert my own will, too.
He had said to lower my eyes, but also to look only at him—contradictory commands that I could use to advantage. I raised my chin proudly as Egerik pivoted to face the half-circle of seated guests. Though I attached my gaze to his back like a faithful hound, I had an excellent view of the company.
A most elegant company it was, seven in all. Two women were of mature age as one would expect for heads of families. One tall and crowlike, one broad-bosomed and solid as a stone tower, they were dressed in a sober elegance of brocade and lampas of rich deep greens and blood reds, wide skirts finished with intricate embroidery and a hundredweight of jewels. Their brows had been plucked to broaden their foreheads; their hair tucked into jeweled nets.
The women were but sparrows beside the varied peacocks that were the five men. Two were slim and elegant, one hugely fat with piercing eyes, one an ugly brute with multiple scars savaging his face, one a dandy, his cascading curls and beard more elaborate than a festival of mummers. No matter size and shape, they had decorated themselves with broad-shouldered doublets, and a full exhibition of capes, ruffs, ribboned sleeves, embroidered peascods, tight hose, and ballooning trousses. Papa would swoon at the prospects of commerce.
Many of the guests studied me with open curiosity. And admiration.
Each guest had a small table at hand and a filled wine cup. In the center of the group was a circle of nine candlesticks … the same we had used in the morning. Waiting for me.
I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed deep. My presence here was not as an ornament, but to reveal the Lady’s auguries to these masters of Cantagna.
Egerik opened his hands in welcome. “You were invited to a celebration of Protector Vizio’s ascension to power, and my kitcheners are preparing a magnificent feast as my invitation promised. But before we retire to the hall and join a few more guests, we’ve a bit of business to address.”
All the curious stares shifted to Egerik.
“The eight of us have significant interests in common,” he said. “Far more than you might imagine, considering my position as an agent of Mercediare, Cantagna’s perpetual antagonist.”
Egerik bowed to the stone-slab woman. “Segnora di Gavonti, if you would pick up that scroll on the table between you and Segnoré di Malavesi. You will likely recognize it as a document that you signed many years ago, supporting a great endeavor. I presume you did so to benefit your business interests across the Costa Drago. Once you have verified that the signature is yours, please pass it to Segnoré di Malavesi … and so on around your circle.”
The woman unrolled the parchment and glanced at it. The color escaped her skin as completely as the beads from a broken necklace. “How have you come by this?”
She shoved it at the curly-locked younger man on her right.
“I’ve no idea what—” The young man choked as if he’d swallowed a live duck, so he clearly did have an idea. He came near throwing it at the crowlike woman next in line. More protests followed.
“How could a Mercediaran jackal have this paper?”
“How dare you expose this?”
“This was to be secret.”
“Forgery.”
Six voices of horror and disbelief. One—the man with the scarred face—tossed the scroll onto the table beside him and folded his arms, proclaiming, “I want to hear what he thinks to do with this.”
A few gathered themselves as if to leave. My heart raced at the spectacle.
“Never fear, my friends,” said Egerik, retrieving the scroll. “I hold no malice toward you! Indeed, I applaud your wisdom to add your names to this document in past years, pledging your family’s support to alleviate the oppression of my countrymen. But the time has come to honor that pledge.”
What kind of business agreement frightened those who agreed to it? And why would Cantagnese aristocrats care about the oppression of Mercediarans?
Well, of course they wouldn’t. That would be Egerik’s point. They had made the agreement for their own reasons, and Egerik claimed sympathy with their choice. What had they agreed to?
My hand flew to my mouth lest the crow of victory tickling my throat escape. Yet I felt only curiosity. Surely it must be Lady Espe’s good pleasure.
Trust me, daughter. I shall guide your hands. My name is Fortune and together we shall discover truth.
Urgency and excitement filled me. The voice of the Lady … illustrious company … important affairs. My dreams were coming to life! I needed to listen well, to take in everything so Espe could guide me true.
“Quite obviously this is a forgery.” A tall man with hair slicked into a roll below his ears shot to his feet, quivering with indignation. He was the rude man with the nasal whine. “House Savilli enters into no assassination pacts with foreigners. And I’ve no wish to traffic with you, ambassador, no matter how fine your kitchen or how lovely your harlots. I take my leave.”
Assassination pact!
“’Tis your late father’s signature, Lorenz,” said the crowlike woman with a sour chuckle. “Every one of us recognizes it. Some of us likely signed this thing to please the old fool. A fine legacy he’s left you, grand duc!”
“I’d advise you consider well before departing, Segnoré di Savilli,” said Egerik, quite cheerfully. “The consequences of this document falling into the wrong hands—my tyrant Mistress’s hands in particular—would be dreadful; she is a firm believer in the vendetta omnia. But there is no need for your children, cousins, retainers, and villagers to suffer Balbina’s wrath. I have brought this list forward merely as a means to gather together a group of determined, powerful people—noble men and women who would be pleased to see the world change in certain ways that could enrich their houses and enhance their influence in the world. I seek mutual support, segnori, commitment that can clear away impediments to your advancement, as well as my own.”
“What kind of support?” said the powerful-looking woman. “Why would you expect backing for your Tyrant Whore from those who’ve signed this pledge to eliminate her?”
