The Pyramid Waltz (7 page)

Katya glanced at Starbride, but her face held little emotion. With a sigh that seemed to come from her soul, she followed Lady Hilda inside, and the crowd swallowed them both.

Starbride watched them go, her confusion rising. Why didn’t Katya tell Lady Hilda to go away? Why the expression change, and what about that comment about boring her with hunting stories? Was it all to hide the sick friend?

Starbride watched the night again and tried to figure out this woman who claimed to be her friend, but she needed more information in order to form conclusions. She turned back to the ball, looking for but not seeing Katya as she waded toward the exit. On a raised dais at one end of the hall, she spotted two crowned figures: a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man and a petite blond woman, both over forty. It had to be the king and queen, and it struck Starbride after a moment that these were Katya’s parents. Several people stood with them, including a younger woman with a circlet sitting in her startlingly pale hair. So many fair-haired people packed into one place. Starbride wondered if they ever confused one another but then reprimanded herself for the mean thought. There was no need to blame the blonds for a horrid end to the evening. Lady Hilda was a redhead, after all.

Starbride lost sight of the royals as the crowd engulfed her again. She sidestepped the grab of a red-eyed young man, his cheeks bright with drink. “Come, dance!” he yelled, not quite focusing on her.

“Sorry.” Starbride twisted out of the way. He moved on, clutching at every woman he met.

When she gained the hallway, Starbride paused. It was still early, and she didn’t feel tired; the library would be nice and free at that hour. She ducked into an alcove and pulled a folded map from the front of her dress. When she made it to the huge library doors without losing her way, she nearly crowed in victory.

Inside the shadowy room, time seemed to speed past. Before she knew it, she had to reread a paragraph about trading statutes several times before she realized she couldn’t absorb any more knowledge. She glanced at the stub of a candle that had been much taller when she’d begun. It had to be near dawn. A jaw-cracking yawn overtook her. She stacked her books and stepped outside the doors.

Map ready, she began the shortcut near the stables that led to her room. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Starbride froze in fear at being caught out so early in the morning, though she couldn’t say why. Perhaps it was because she didn’t exactly have permission to use the library, though Katya’s presence the first time made it seem like she did. She didn’t even know if a person
needed
permission. She ducked down another hallway and hid behind a statue.

Katya passed by a few moments later, wearing hunting leather and a rapier again. A slightly older woman with a bow slung over one shoulder followed her, and an enormous man in a red robe walked beside her, a large mace swinging from his belt. Behind them and also armed with a bow was the same pale-haired young woman Starbride had seen speaking with the king and queen.

It
had
to be dawn if Katya was going hunting. She didn’t look happy, though. Her expression mirrored neither the gentle jokester Starbride had seen nor the bored royal she’d turned on Lady Hilda. She looked grim, as if forced to hunt, an activity she was reputed to love. Maybe she was using the hunting as a disguise to sneak off and see her sick friend.

Starbride realized how hard it must be, how much of a façade someone would have to adopt when everyone wanted a piece of her. Even without the sick friend, maybe Katya always used her huntress reputation to get away from court. Maybe she went into the forest with these few friends to escape so many grasping hands, like Lady Hilda’s.

Her heart full of pity for Katya and anger at the court, Starbride followed them, only stopping when she’d nearly reached the stables. She wasn’t dressed for riding, didn’t even own anything for it at the moment. She supposed she could grab a saddle blanket, hike up her skirt, and follow without a saddle. Tempting, but she hadn’t ridden bareback for years. She started for her room instead, wanting to talk it over with Dawnmother, wanting to do something nice for Katya, something without strings attached.

Dawnmother slumped in a chair, an embroidery hoop in her lap, with her eyes closed, and her mouth hanging open in a soft snore. Starbride touched her shoulder.

With a little jump, she sat up, blinking rapidly. “What time is it?”

“Dawn or thereabouts.”

“Well, you must have had a good time.”

Starbride took the embroidery hoop and glanced at the fabric inside. “What’s this you’re making?”

“A little pillow for you to sit on. A lot of the other courtiers and nobles have them. I tried to make the pattern a little like your necklace. It’ll look better once I sew some beads on.”

“Where did you get this material?”

“Out of a closet.”

“You stole a pillowcase?”

“And a pillow. They have many. They won’t miss one.”

“You hope. What happens if one of those tyrannical housekeepers beats down our door?”

“Then I will throw myself in his or her path while you make your escape.” She yawned, making Starbride yawn in turn. “Let’s go to bed. We can talk later.”

Starbride nodded, too tired to argue, and after Dawnmother helped her undress, she slipped under the covers of her narrow bed. Dawnmother lay down on her pallet.

“Have you learned anything about the rest of the town?” Starbride asked after Dawnmother put out the candle.

“A little. Why?”

“I need to purchase something, a gift.”

“I see.” Starbride heard the curiosity in the words, but she didn’t elaborate, not yet. Instead, she drifted to sleep.

When they reached the first crossroads, Katya’s party met Crowe and Pennynail, both men astride their horses. Crowe’s wrinkled face was a study in impatience. Katya saluted them and pointed to Pennynail’s Laughing Jack mask with its perpetual grin. “Why don’t you take a lesson from him, Crowe? He’s always happy to see us.” Crowe rolled his eyes, and Katya had to admit the joke was rather flat. She’d only said it to try to cheer herself up.

Averie reined in her horse. “Meet you at the regular rendezvous?”

“Before nightfall.” Katya winked in another attempt at lightness she didn’t feel. “Catch us something nice.” At least Averie had the decency to smile.

“Where is it we’re going, Crowe?” Katya asked when they were on the move again.

He gave her a long glance. “It’s the best I could get from the Shadow, Katya.”

“I understand that.”

“The courtier from the hallway was dead before we reached my study.”

“I know.”

“It’s a tavern in Longside. It could be where the Shadow meets his contacts.”

Katya wanted to say, “It could be where he meets his doxy, or where he likes to drink, or where his father is from,” but she kept her mouth shut. This trip was a dead end; she felt it in her bones, but she took a deep breath and tried a more diplomatic route. “The courtier’s pyramid proves that his group has a pyradisté, someone who knows we can pry their secrets from them. If the Shadow is part of that group, they won’t use the same place to meet after one of them has been caught.” When Crowe opened his mouth again, she raised a hand. “I know. It’s all we have, which is why we’re going.”

Crowe turned to Maia. “What did the other courtiers have to say about our dead mystery man?”

“I couldn’t find anyone who knew him. Everyone was gossiping about him, but no one knew who he was.”

“People do not just
appear
in the palace!” Crowe snapped.

“Sure they do,” Brutal said. “Someone stashes a courtier’s clothes for him; he comes in wearing servant’s livery and then changes. Instant courtier. He bides his time, waits for the king, and then
bam
!” He punched the air, and the enormous draft horse underneath him nickered and tossed its head.

Katya shook her head. “It’s not like my father is some weakling. He could have disarmed that man.”

Crowe gave her an incredulous look.

Katya rolled her eyes. “I’m not just saying that because I love him. I’m not playing my-father-could-defeat-your-father. It’s the truth.”

“And your father was escorted by pyradistés,” Brutal said.

Maia nodded eagerly. “Right! Plus, the king is always surrounded by nobles; the courtiers complain that they can’t get a word in edgewise.”

Pennynail clapped his gloved hands. When they turned to look, he took a long, thin knife from his belt and wiggled it. He stabbed the air and then sheathed the knife in one quick, blurred motion.

“Yes,” Crowe said, “just the point I was about to make. If the assailant is quick enough, all the strength in the world won’t matter. The courtier could have waited until the king passed and then darted in behind him.”

“One of the pyradistés would have sensed the pyramid.
You
would have sensed it, Crowe,” Katya said. “It was active, after all.”

“But we would
not
have known which person wielded it. We would’ve had to surround the king and whisk him away, calling for the guards. Someone would have been hurt. It was all too close.”

Katya could still feel the courtier’s arm in her grasp. If she had been quicker, she could have grabbed the pyramid, and they’d have a living man to question. She felt a touch on her shoulder and looked up into Crowe’s gray eyes.

“Stop feeling guilty,” he whispered. “I demand to keep all the self-recrimination for myself.”

“Let’s see what your tavern holds.”

“The courtier recognized you, coz,” Maia said. “Didn’t you say that?”

“So?”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t come to the tavern, then. You can wait outside with Pennynail.”

“He recognized me in the palace, in palace clothing. A little dirt, a lack of insignia, and they won’t see a princess because they don’t expect to see one.”

“You can’t know that, coz, even after this long.”

“All right, then. I’m in charge, and I don’t want to wait outside. If anyone asks, I’ll say you’re the princess.”

“I could play princess.” Maia scrunched her face as if confronted with a horrible smell. “Crowe, Brutal, kill that man, he’s in my way.”

“Rubbish!” Katya said. “If a man was in my way, I’d kill him myself.”

“Thank the spirits we raised you right,” Crowe mumbled.

They fell to good-natured bickering, and in the wake of it, Katya relaxed a fraction. She allowed herself to think of Starbride standing in the soft light of the ballroom balcony. Alone, Starbride still hadn’t pleaded her case, whatever her case might be. She had expressed sadness for Katya’s
sick friend
, and her feelings had seemed so genuine, so without guile. Katya had wanted to tell her the truth, and that desire was more perilous than any machination of Lady Hilda’s.

Still, she smiled as she touched the spot on her clothes under which her pyramid necklace rested. It had a companion today, a butterfly hairclip threaded through the chain. She’d have to think of something better to do with it.

They reached Longside at midday, and it proved even smaller than Katya suspected. It was only a few acres of fields with a cluster of buildings in the center. Pennynail left them early, staying inside the forest, and Katya brought her horse into line with Brutal and Maia. Crowe took the rear so no one could be sure who led the small group. The largest building bore a sign of a foaming mug, and eight horses had been hitched out front. Judging by the noise inside, it was a busy afternoon in the small community. “Good place to start,” Katya said.

Brutal took a deep breath. “There’s a sense of chaos to it.”

“Good for a fight?” Maia asked.

“Without a doubt.” Katya dismounted and stretched. “No one as large as Brutal can walk into a small town without stepping on someone’s toes.”

Crowe snorted from behind them. “Local bullies, young bravos, someone
always
has to test his luck.”

Brutal opened the door. “Suits me fine. Everyone involved gets closer to enlightenment.”

Wooden poles held open long horizontal shutters along the sides of the tavern. Specks of sawdust, stirred up from the floor by so many feet, floated through the bright sunshine. The tables were small and square and sat scattered inside with no discernible order. Katya waved in front of her face, but it didn’t do much to dispel the smell of wood and beer.

Dusty farmers in homespun occupied most of the seats, spending the hottest hours of the day out of the sun. Among them Katya noticed the hardier leather of a blacksmith and a few more well-dressed patrons, tradespeople or travelers. Longside was a busy little crossroads, even if the only people who lived there were farmers and their families, plus the few who sold to them. Katya’s party took one of two unoccupied tables, a rickety square near the short bar at the back that seemed only for keg storage. Barmaids and servers hustled in and out of the doorway next to it, their pounding steps just audible above the drone of conversation and the occasional burst of raucous laughter.

Some of the burlier farmers nudged their companions, grinned, and gave Brutal challenging looks. “Won’t be long now.” Katya gestured at the burly farmers with her chin. “Watch for anyone familiar.”