The City of Ravens (23 page)

“I will surely apprehend that villainous duplicate, that duplicitous villain, at my earliest convenience tomorrow,” he muttered angrily, dressing for the Game. “I simply have more important business to attend at the moment than dealing with the likes of him. The charming Lady Illyth awaits, and I cannot disappoint her.”

He caught the public ferry departing the isle a half hour before sunset and hired a carriage on the Bitterstone wharves to take him out to Woodenhall. The six-mile trip was becoming quite familiar by now, and Jack had long since tired of watching the scenery. Still, he bounced out of the coach with a lively step and donned his most charming grin when they arrived at the manor to pick up Illyth for the evening.

“My dear Illyth!” he cried. “I presume no uncouth blackguards have troubled you today?”

Illyth climbed up into the coach, taking Jack’s hand, and settled in the plush seat. She was dressed in a beautiful dress of green brocade, trimmed with white lace at collar and cuff.

“Your I’ll-mannered twin hasn’t shown himself in three days,” she said. Then she reached behind her back and drew out a slender wand of dark wood, tipped with burnished brass. “But, just in case, Father bought me a wand charged with a dozen lightning spells. I hope the rascal shows himself again!”

“I didn’t know you had any talent for wizardry, my dear.” The coach rolled off across the cobblestones and into the humid night.

“Very little, I’m afraid, but I know enough to discharge this wand. There are a couple of elm trees in the woods behind our house that are somewhat the worse for my practicing.” Illyth returned the device to whatever hidden pocket she’d removed it from and then turned her dark, serious gaze on the rogue. “So, what have you been up to for the last three days, Jack? Have you learned anything more about the shadow, or the doings of Tiger and Mantis?”

Jack shrugged, choosing his words with care. “A fruitless investigation into the nature of my enemy,” he said, which was not entirely untrue. “I didn’t learn much.” He cobbled together a largely fictional account of the last several days, emphasizing the frustrating and hopeless search for his shadow-copy. It was not his best work, but Illyth skeptically accepted it, until the coach clattered up to the Raven’s Glory. “Excellent!” said Jack. “And look, we are here.”

The Green Lord’s banquet was to take place in the pretentious restaurant, ballroom, and tavern known as the Raven’s Glory. Three stories high, the establishment had been rented out in its entirety to the Game of Masks for the evening, no doubt enriching the fat coffers of the equally fat Veldarno Khalabari even more than hundreds of patrons engaged in a wild evening of expensive dinners, free-flowing wine, and festive dancing would have done. Jack and Illyth were helped down from the coach at the front door of the banquet hall by two manservants in pristine livery and walked inside to robe for the Game.

Masked as Lord Fox and Lady Crane, they moved on into the great room. The floor was crowded with several dozen Game-goers in their magical masks, a splendid sight. The proprietor Khalabari, short and sweaty, dashed from place to place like a lump of butter on a hot skillet, hardly tending to one task before another caught his attention and whisked him away in a flutter of unctuous courtesy.

Jack and Illyth climbed up to the balcony overlooking the dance floor, keeping their eyes open for Tiger and Mantis. The conspirators had not yet made their appearance, which unnerved Jack greatly. If the two plotters simply didn’t show, he would have no way to find out whether they were surprised to see Illyth and him together at the revel. Beyond that, he lacked any more sophisticated plan.

“I am afraid that I am considering this whole affair to the point of distraction,” he said aloud.

“Murder? Kidnapping? Impersonators and shadow wizards?” Illyth shook her head. “Jack, I do not see how you can possibly give the matter too much attention. What shall we do when Mantis and Tiger show up?”

Jack thought on that for a moment. “They’ve been careful to cover their identities so far. What if we simply unmask them and discover who they are?”

“We would be disqualified at once,” Illyth pointed out.

“Perhaps we could lure one or both somewhere out of sight, where we could quickly identify our antagonist without revealing our own identities?”

“All we might do is start a scuffle, in which we are as likely to be unmasked as they. And if Tiger and Mantis report that we have unmasked them, we might be disqualified anyway.”

“Why, then it should be their word against ours, and that rarely carries the day in any dispute,” Jack replied.

“You mean we would blatantly deny having anything to do with them?” Illyth seemed honestly repelled by the idea.

“Correct, my dear. Besides, I may have a trick or two to ensure that no scuffle ensues.” Jack scanned the crowd again but did not spy the familiar masks. “I see no sign of them yet. Do you perchance have your Game journal with you?”

“Yes, but playing the Game—”

“—is exactly what we came here to do, dear Illyth.” Jack took her by the elbow and steered her toward the buffet table. “So, what do we still need to learn?”

Illyth showed him the book, holding it close so that no one nearby could easily see its contents. She’d recorded each clue they had actually seen in one section, and then the clues they’d traded through hearsay a little farther on. In the last part, she’d carefully drawn a large table across two pages, showing by each title the kingdoms and names. With a charcoal pencil she’d filled in the information they knew, and the information they suspected. “We need a number of clues yet,” she said. “I fear we’ve fallen too far behind by missing the Yellow Lord’s tournament.”

“Shall we attempt to garner more clues, then?” Jack asked.

Illyth reluctantly nodded, looking about for any sign of Tiger or Mantis. “I suppose so. We—oh, wait. What’s this?”

With a sudden fanfare on the ballroom floor below, a pair of coronets sounded. Randall Morran, the chief game judge, cleared a small circle in the center of the

dance floor. “Ladies and gentlemen! A contestant chooses to attempt the solution of the Riddle of the Seven Faceless Lords!”

“Oh, dear,” said Illyth. “We’re too late!”

“Not necessarily. Be ready to write down the answer given; if it is wrong, we may learn a clue through elimination,” observed Jack.

On the floor below, a stout lady with a goldfishlike mask stepped forward, escorted by a tall gentleman with the noble features of a lion. “Attend, please, the Lady Carp and Lord Lion!” the Master Crafter called.

Lady Carp turned and curtsied to the waiting assemblage. She withdrew from her sleeve a slip of paper, examined it for a moment, and then began to read: “Here is my solution,” she said. “The Red Lord is Buriz, his kingdom Pentar. The Orange Lord is Fatim, his kingdom Quarra. The Yellow Lord is Dubhil of Trile. The Green Lord is Alcantar of Unen. The Blue Lord is Erizum of Dues. The Purple Lord is Geciras of Septun. And the Black Lord is Carad of Hexan. Is it solved?”

Randall Morran made a great show of consulting a small parchment sealed in a ribbon-wrapped envelope, standing clear of any observers. He allowed the wait to become deliciously long, and then shook his head. “Alas, Lady Carp, your solution is incorrect in four particulars. A noble effort, but not enough to win.”

The Green Lord strode up beside the Master Crafter and stood before Lady Carp, silent and tall. He pointed at Carp and Lion solemnly, and then drew his finger across his throat ceremonially.

Morran bowed and said, “For your failure, the Green Lord condemns you to death. You may unmask and remain to enjoy the festivities if you wish, or you may depart and retain your anonymity.”

Lady Carp sighed. “Oh, it’s a silly game anyway.” She

drew off her mask. Jack didn’t recognize her, or her escort, an older gentleman with a white goatee. “Better luck to the next!” she called to the crowd, and then she and her date departed to the polite applause of the crowd.

“Did you record her solution?” Jack asked Illyth.

“Yes, but we don’t know which part was wrong. Which four parts, in fact.”

“True, but look here—her solution for the Orange Lord matches our own, which we have confirmed completely with real clues. Therefore, the four errors in her solution must he elsewhere.” Jack grinned. “I think that we can use her solution in its entirety as the basis for our own, simply asking ourselves for each item: was Lady Carp right or wrong? Then we examine our own evidence item by item to see if we can confirm or refute her solution. We will be left with a small number of yes-or-no guesses with which we can attempt the solution.”

“Clearly, Lady Carp guessed on at least four points, probably more, and got them wrong,” Illyth said.

“Yes, but I promise you that someone else will attempt that very strategy later in this session,” Jack said. “I doubt that we have the luxury of solving the puzzle in its entirety. Someone will narrow the solution down to a few guesses and hope they get lucky in the interest of solving it first.”

Illyth frowned. “I prefer a more deliberate solution.”

“Faint heart never won fair lady or the Game of Masks,” Jack said. He studied the crowd below one more time and straightened. “Or caught a conspirator. Look, there’s Tiger now.”

“What do we do now?”

“Stay with me, and follow my lead,” he told her.-Jack glided across the room and down the wide stairway, moving casually to intersect Lord Tiger. Illyth hesitated, mustering the courage to follow, then hurried after

him. Jack caught the tall lord just as the fellow reached the foot of the stair and deliberately stepped in front of him, halting his progress.

“Hold a moment, my lord. I would like to have a word with you.”

Tiger studied him, his feral eyes gleaming in his predatory mask. “To what end?” he snarled.

“You know as well as I,” Jack ventured. The lord hesitated, perhaps trying to gauge the depth of Jack’s confidence. The rogue decided to set the hook. “It pertains to your conversation with Lady Mantis.”

Now the conspirator guarded his response. “What do you think you heard?”

Jack glanced at the surrounding revelers. “Shall we discuss it here, or should we adjourn to one of the private chambers upstairs?”

Behind the mask, Lord Tiger seemed to glower. “Very well, then,” he spat.

Without waiting, he pushed past Jack and hurried up the staircase, past the (lining hall on the second floor to the quiet, dark reaches of the uppermost floor. Here, Veldarno Khalabari had created a dozen small rooms for private dining and other entertainments secluded from the revelry below. Few Game participants were on this floor at the moment, although as the evening grew old a number would doubtless avail themselves of the facilities rather than endure a long, cold carriage ride home. Tiger went to the first open room and stepped inside, turning warily to keep an eye on Jack and Illyth.

“Speak your piece and be quick about it,” the lord snapped.

“Your hostility is unbecoming, sir,” said Jack. He advanced into the room, Illyth a step behind him. Lord Tiger folded his arms across his broad chest and glared at him. “In particular, I found my shadow-double to be a

particularly obnoxious assailant. I believe you owe the lady an apology for the liberties it attempted to take with her person.”

Tiger looked from Jack to Illyth, his anger fading into a sullen glower. “What in Cyric’s screaming hells are you talking about?”

Jack waved his hand. “You lie poorly, sir. We survived your assassin’s attack. Now explain to us why you sent him, or we shall have no choice but to remand the entire matter into the hands of the proper authorities.” Behind his back, he tapped Illyth’s waist; the noblewoman picked up on her cue at once and moved a step, separating herself from Jack and dividing Tiger’s attention.

“I do not have to answer to your delusions,” Tiger snapped. “You threaten to expose me? Fine. I call your bluff. You are nothing to me, but if you continue to pester me, you will be eliminated from the Game and more. Do you understand me?”

Illyth took another step and then said something that shocked even Jack. “Lord Tiger, you should answer to my companion. Otherwise I shall have to arrange for the Watch to receive evidence implicating you in a conspiracy to commit murder under the cover of the Game. You remain free only on my sufferance.”

Tiger wheeled on her. “Evidence? What evidence?”

“If we told you, you might be tempted to rash actions and desperate measures,” Jack replied, stepping in to cover Illyth. “Rest assured that it is completely incriminating.”

“If that is the case, why are you speaking to me?” Tiger said after a moment’s pause. “A bluff, then. You know nothing, just as I thought.” He drew himself up and strode to the door, shouldering Jack out of the way and turning his back on Illyth.

In that moment, Illyth reached out and snatched his

mask from his head. The Tiger illusion vanished; the man whirled in rage, reaching for the sword at his side. He was young and dark complected, with a scalp shaved down almost to stubble and fierce bright eyes. “Damn you! Give me that!”

Jack seized the light slip of cloth from Illyth’s hands and hurled it over Tiger’s shoulder. It cleared the railing and fluttered down to the dance floor below. “Careful, Lord Tiger! You seem to have lost your mask.”

The man started after the mask and watched it fall. He turned a venomous glare at Jack. “If you think that trick will spare you—” he began.

“Of course it will!” Reaching for Illyth’s hand, Jack worked the transport spell and blinked them both across the hall to a dark stairwell across the ballroom. He turned and looked back; Lord Tiger was casting about for them furiously, a glint of steel in his hand. Jack grinned and kissed Illyth on the cheek. “Well done, dear Illyth! Perchance did you recognize him?”

The noblewoman still seemed amazed by the turn of events. “I think so,” she said slowly. “A merchant’s lieutenant named Toseiyn Dulkrauth, of the Storm Dragon House, I think. You realize that we have made an enemy of him now?”

“Yes,” laughed Jack, “but now we know who our enemies are!” He tried to ignore the way Illyth’s silence seemed to speak louder than his own bravado.