Seraphina: A Novel Part 26

Glisselda straightened, s.h.i.+fting a little away from me, and I realized the mention of my "obligations" had brought my own loyalties into question beyond the point where she could still defend me. She spoke evenly: "Whether this cabal really exists or not, the fact is that someone tried to kill the Ardmagar and failed. There isn't much time left for another attempt."

Kiggs exhaled noisily through his lips in frustration and ran a hand down his face. "You're right, Selda. We can't afford to do nothing. Better too cautious than not cautious enough."

We set aside our quibbles and put our heads together, formulating a plan, circ.u.mventing the Queen and Comonot, taking all the weight of the peace upon ourselves. We just had to keep the Ardmagar safe for one more night, to make it through Treaty Eve without anyone dying, and then Comonot would return home. If this cabal really existed and killed him in the Tanamoot, well, that would be out of our hands.

Kiggs would tighten palace security, although it was already nearly as strong as he could make it, unless we intended foreign dignitaries to dance with members of the Guard at the ball. He would also inform Amba.s.sador Fulda that he believed real danger to Comonot lurked here at home, and would request that Eskar and the pet.i.t ard be recalled so they could help. They'd been many miles away at last report; it was unclear whether they would make it back in time. Glisselda was to stick to the Ardmagar as best she could; she complained that she'd have no chance to practice the Tertius before the concert, but I could tell by the gleam in her eye that intrigue interested her more than music.

I had duties, of course, a.s.sisting Viridius and preparing the entertainments. That would be my focus until the ball itself, when I'd take turns babysitting the Ardmagar.

Privately, I set a few additional tasks for myself. I wanted all three of my fellow half-breeds present. We were going to need all the help we could get.

I looked for Abdo in the garden of grotesques as soon as I returned to my rooms. He was hanging upside down in his fig tree, but he leaped down at my approach and offered me gola nuts.

"I glimpsed your troupe today from afar," I said, seating myself cross-legged on the ground beside him. "I wished I could have introduced myself because I feel awkward asking for your help when I haven't even met you."

"Do not say so, madamina! Of course I will help if I can."

I told him what was afoot. "Bring your whole troupe. I will make s.p.a.ce for you on the performance docket. Dress ... er ..."

"We know what is appropriate for the Goreddi court."

"Of course you do. Forgive me. There will be others of our kind there, other ... what was the Porphyrian word you used?"

"Ityasaari?"

"Yes. Do you know Loud Lad and Miss Fusspots, from the garden?"

"Of course," he said. "I see everything you permit me to see."

I suppressed a shudder, wondering whether he could taste my emotions in the wind as Jannoula had. "I will want you all to help each other and work together, just as you help me."

"Yours are the orders, madamina. Yours the right. I will be there and ready."

I smiled at him and rose to go, dusting off my skirts. "Is madamina Porphyrian for 'maidy,' like grausleine in Samsamese?"

His eyes widened. "No, indeed! It means 'general.' "

"Wh-why would you call me that?"

"Why did you call me Fruit Bat? I had to call you something, and every day you come here as if reviewing your legions." He smiled sheepishly and added: "Once, long ago, you told someone here-that girl with beautiful green eyes, the one you sent away. You said your name aloud, but I misheard it."

All around us, an astonished wind blew.

I did not know where Lars slept at night, but there had been enough broad hints from various quarters that I feared I might end up seeing more of Viridius than I cared to.

I waited until morning, made myself a fortifying cup of tea, and went straight to the garden. I took Loud Lad's hands, whirling out into a vision. To my astonishment, the whole world seemed spread below me: the city, glowing pink in the light of dawn; the s.h.i.+ning ribbon of river; the distant rolling farmland. Lars stood upon the crenellations of the barbican, each foot on a separate merlon, playing his pipes for the dawn and for the city at his feet. My ethereal presence didn't stop him; I let him finish, secretly relis.h.i.+ng the feeling that I was flying above the city, buoyed by his music. It was exhilarating to be so high up and not fear falling.

"Is thet you, Seraphina?" he said at last.

It is. I need your help.

I told him I feared for the Ardmagar, that I might need him at a moment's notice, that others of our kind-Abdo and Dame Okra-would be there to help, and how to recognize them. If he was astonished to hear there were other half-dragons, Lars's Samsamese stoicism didn't let it show. He said, "But how will this danger come, Seraphina? An attack on the castle? A traitor within the walls?"

I did not know how to tell him whom we suspected. I began cautiously: I know you don't like discussing Josef, but- He cut me off. "No. I hev nothink to say about him."

He may be involved. He may be the one behind everything.

His face fell, but his resolve did not. "If so, I will standt with you against him. But I am sworn not to speak of what he is." He fingered the chanter of his war pipes absently. "Perheps," he said at last, "I come armedt."

I don't think Kiggs will allow anyone but the palace guard to arrive armed.

"Always I hev my fists and my war pipes!"

Er ... yes. That's the spirit, Lars.

It would be a memorable evening, if nothing else.

I knew better than to contact Dame Okra with my mind. I didn't need my nose all black and blue for Treaty Eve.

I worked fast and crabby all morning, directing the hanging of garlands, the placing of chandeliers and sideboards, the moving of the harpsichord-which looked like a coffin as four men carried it through the door without its legs-and countless other lastminute details. All the while I conscientiously attempted to get Dame Okra's attention without contacting her. My attempts to will her into appearing, to project fake need-my sighing and fretting and muttering, "I sure could use Dame Okra's help!"-met with universal failure.

I barely had time to rush to my rooms and dress for dinner; I had already set out the scarlet gown Millie had given me, so I didn't have do any thinking and only had to switch my outer garment. No risky nakedness for me: a maid might show up any minute to arrange my hair. Glisselda had insisted upon this point, going so far as to threaten me with Millie if I didn't swear not to do my own hair.

The maid arrived; my hair was beaten into submission. My first reaction, upon seeing myself in the mirror, was shock at how long my neck was. My hair usually obscured that fact, but when it was all piled up on my head, I looked positively camelopardine. The decolletage of Millie's gown wasn't helping matters. Feh.

I hung Orma's earring from a golden chain around my neck, more to settle my nerves with something treasured than because I thought it could be useful; who knew where he was or whether he could even receive its signal. It made an intriguing pendant. I no longer feared the Ardmagar recognizing it. Let him say two words to me about Orma; let him try. He would get more than he bargained for.

Surely no one would try to do him in while I was there, excoriating him.

I'd never attended a feast of such magnitude. I was seated as far as possible from the high table, of course, but I had an unimpeded view of it. The Ardmagar sat between the Queen and Princess Dionne; Kiggs and Glisselda sat on the Queen's other side, both of them scanning the room anxiously. I took this as simple vigilance at first, until Glisselda spotted me, waved eagerly, and pointed me out to her cousin. It took him a moment to see me, even so, because I didn't look quite like myself.

He did smile eventually, once he stopped looking astonished.

I can barely recall the kind and number of dishes; I should have taken notes. We had boar and venison and fowl of all kinds, a peac.o.c.k pie with its great tail fanned out, sallats, soft white bread, almond custard, fish, figs, Zibou dates. My tablemates, distant relations of the dukes and earls at the other end of the room, laughed gently at my impulse to try everything. "Can't be done," said an elderly fellow with a goat's beard. "Not if you hope to walk away from the table under your own power!"

The feast ended with a towering, flaming, six-tiered torte representing the Lighthouse of Ziziba, of all things. Alas, I was truly too full-and by this point, too anxious-to have any.

Thank Heaven I could rely absolutely upon my musicians, because I got caught in the crush of people heading for the great hall and never could have gotten there fast enough to get everyone in place. By the time I entered, the symphonia was already sc.r.a.ping out the overture, one of those infinite-cycle pieces that could be played over and over until the royal family arrived and the first dance could begin.

Someone grabbed my upper right arm and whispered in my ear, "Ready?"

"As ready as we can be for the unknown," I replied, not daring to look at him. He smelled almondy, like the marchpane torte.

I discerned his nod in my peripheral vision. "Selda's stowed a flask of Zibou coffee for you somewhere onstage in case you start getting drowsy." Kiggs clapped me on the shoulder and said, "Save me a pavano."

He disappeared into the crowd.

No sooner had he left than Dame Okra was upon me. "What do you need now?" she asked crabbily.

I drew her toward the wall of the great hall, away from the ma.s.s of people; we stood by a tall candelabra, like a sheltering tree. "We have some concern for the Ardmagar's safety tonight. Can I count on your help if I need it?"

She lifted her chin, scanning the crowd for Comonot. "What shall I do? Tail him?"

"Observe him discreetly, yes. And keep your stomach, er, focused."

Her thick gla.s.ses reflected candlelight up at me. "Fair enough."

I caught her satin sleeve as she turned to plunge into the party. "May I contact you with my mind?"

"Absolutely not!" She headed off my objections: "If you need me, I'll be there."

I sighed. "Fine. But it's not just me; one of the others might need you."

The creases beside her mouth deepened. "What others?"

I opened and shut my mouth, astonished that I could have forgotten that she did not live inside my head. Only Abdo could see the garden. "The others ... like us," I whispered urgently.

Her face underwent a full spectrum of emotion in mere seconds-astonishment, sorrow, wonderment, joy-ending on one she was particularly good at: annoyance. She smacked me with her fan. "You couldn't tell me this? Do you have any idea how old I am?"

"Er, no."

"One hundred twenty-eight!" she snarled. "I spent that many years thinking I was alone. Then you prance into my life, nearly giving me a paroxysm, and now you deign to tell me there are more. How many are there?"

"Eighteen, counting you and me," I said, not daring to keep anything back from her anymore. "But only two others here: the bagpiper"-she guffawed, apparently remembering him-"and one of the pygegyria dancers. A little Porphyrian boy."

Her brows shot up. "You invited pygegyria dancers? Tonight?" She threw back her head and laughed. "Whatever else may be true of you, you do things your own way, with a refres.h.i.+ngly self-a.s.sured pigheadedness. I like that!"

She took off into the colorful crowd, leaving me to puzzle out that compliment.

Speaking of pygegyria, I hadn't seen the troupe. I reached out: Where are you?

The small reception hall. We are too many for your tiny dressing rooms.

Stay there. I am coming to meet you.

I slipped into the corridor and found the double doors of the small hall easily enough. I hesitated, my hands upon the bra.s.s door handles. Abdo was so different from the others I had met-his mind worked more like mine, or Jannoula's-that I had some anxiety about meeting him. Once I'd met him, he was in my life inextricably, for good or ill.

I took a deep breath and opened the doors.

Ululations and an explosive burst of drumming greeted me.

The troupe were all in motion, a circle within a circle, each turning a different direction. For a moment I could focus on nothing; it was a blur of colored scarves and s.h.i.+mmering veils, brown hands and jingling strings of coins.

The circles opened, dancers spinning off tangentially, revealing Abdo in the center, in a bright green tunic and trousers, his feet bare, his arms undulating. The others s.h.i.+mmied at a distance, chains and coin scarves jingling. He whirled, his arms spread wide, the fringe upon his belt making a halo at his center.

For the first time, I understood the point of dancing. I was so used to music being the vehicle for expression, but here he was speaking to me not with his mind but with his body: I feel this music in my very blood. This is what it means to be me, right here, right now, solid flesh, ethereal air, eternal motion. I feel this, and it is true beyond truth.

The heavens seemed to turn with him, the sun and moon, time itself. He whirled so fast he seemed to stand still. I could have sworn I smelled roses.

With a crash of drums he froze, still as a statue. I wasn't certain whether Porphyrians applauded, but I went ahead and clapped. That broke the spell; the dancers smiled and broke formation, chattering among themselves. I approached Abdo, who awaited me with s.h.i.+ning eyes.

"That was beautiful," I said. "I think your audience will love you, whether they want to or not."

He smiled.

"I've put you on the program late, when people will need something to wake them up. There's food and drink for performers in the little room off the-"

"Madamina!" cried an old man. It took me a moment to recognize him as the one who'd wanted to meet me after Prince Rufus's funeral; he was draped with silks now. I a.s.sumed he was the grandfather Abdo had mentioned. "Your pardon!" he said. "You are come to here, try to speak at Abdo, but he cannot speaking at you without help. Your pardon."

"He-what?" I wasn't convinced I had understood.

I looked to Abdo, who looked annoyed. He made a number of hand gestures at the old man, who gesticulated back urgently. Was he ... deaf? If so, how did he speak such fluent Goreddi in the garden? He finally convinced the old man to go, which I found astonis.h.i.+ng. He was ten, maybe eleven years old, but the old man was deferential.

All the dancers were. He was the leader of this troupe.

He smiled at me apologetically, and I heard his voice in my mind: Loud Lad and Miss Fusspots. I know what I'm to do. I will not fail you.

You can't talk? I thought back, not wanting to blurt out the obvious.

He gave a pained, small smile, threw back his head, and opened his mouth as wide as he could. His long tongue, his gums, his palate, everything, as far into his throat as I could see, gleamed with silver dragon scales.

That night simultaneously dragged on forever and pa.s.sed in a whirlwind blur. Kiggs had stationed the Guard everywhere there was s.p.a.ce; there were a few out of uniform casually a.s.saulting the buffet table, and one onstage spooking my musicians. The royal cousins and I spotted each other watching the Ardmagar; Glisselda danced with him three times, or danced near him with Kiggs. Dame Okra engaged him in chitchat near the refreshments table; I stood onstage behind the curtain, scanning the crowd through the gap. n.o.body did anything suspicious-well, Princess Dionne smiled a lot, which was unusual, and gossiped with Lady Corongi, which was not. The Earl of Apsig danced with every lady in the room; he seemed never to grow tired.

Viridius was there in a wheeled chair, several young men keeping him supplied with wine and cheese. That much rich food would leave him foul-tempered and incapacitated for a week; I did not understand how he calculated that it was worth it.

The symphonia cleared the stage while Lars and Guntard brought out the harpsichord for Princess Glisselda's performance. She was suddenly beside me in the wings, giggling and clutching at my arm. "I can't do this, Phina!"

"Breathe," I said, taking her hands to still them. "Don't speed up during the arpeggios. Keep the pavano stately. You're going to be wonderful."

She kissed my cheek and stepped into the light, where she abruptly transformed from a nervous, squealing little girl into a dignified young woman. Her gown was the blue of Heaven; her golden hair, the sun. She held herself poised, raised a hand to the audience, kept her chin high and proud. I blinked, amazed, but I should not have been surprised by this calm, commanding presence. She was still growing into it, but the foundation was something she seemed naturally to possess.

Musical ability, on the other hand ... well. She was breath-takingly mediocre, but it didn't matter. She made up some ground on the performance end with sheer poise and presence, and she absolutely put Viridius in his place. I watched him from behind the curtain. His mouth hung open. That was satisfying on several levels.

I watched Comonot, too, since no one else seemed to be doing it. Dame Okra had been distracted by her least favorite person, Lady Corongi, and was eyeballing her suspiciously. Kiggs, off to the left, smiled warmly at his cousin's performance. I felt a pang; I looked elsewhere. The Ardmagar-whom I was ostensibly watching-stood at the back with Princess Dionne, not speaking, watching the performance, a gla.s.s in one hand, the other arm around the princess's waist.

She didn't seem to mind, but ... ugh.

I was shocked at the revulsion I felt. I, of all people, had no business being disgusted by the idea of a human with a saarantras. No, surely my squirm had its origin in the noxious personalities involved, and the fact that I'd just pictured the Ardmagar in a state of undress. I needed to scrub my mind clean.

Glisselda finished, to thunderous applause. I expected her to skip straight off the stage, but she did not. She stepped to the front, raised a hand for silence, and then said, "Thank you for your generous applause. I hope you've saved some, however, for the person most deserving of it, my music teacher, Seraphina Dombegh!"

The applause began again. She gestured for me to join her onstage, but I balked. She strode over, grabbed my arm, and pulled me out. I curtsied to the sea of faces, deeply embarra.s.sed. I looked up and saw Kiggs; he gave me a little wave. I tried to smile back but rather suspect I missed.

Glisselda gestured the crowd into silence. "I hope Maid Dombegh will forgive me for interrupting her careful scheduling, but you all deserve some excellent music as a reward for sitting through my paltry offering: a performance from Seraphina herself. And please, help me pet.i.tion the Queen to make Phina a court composer, the equal of Viridius. She's too good to be merely his a.s.sistant!"

I expected Viridius to scowl, but he threw back his head and laughed. The audience clapped some more, and I took the opportunity to say to Glisselda, "I didn't bring any of my instruments down."

"Well, there's a harpsichord right behind us, silly," she whispered. "And I confess: I took the liberty of fetching your flute and your oud. You choose."