Gathering of Shadows (A Darker Shade of Magic) (38 page)

* * *

Alucard proved disturbingly adept at making someone disappear.

Lila leaned against a set of boxes at the transport end of the docks—devoted to the ships coming and going instead of the ones set in for the length of the tournament—and turned Elsor’s
S
pin over in her fingers. Elsor himself sat on the ground, slumped against the crates, while Alucard tried to convince a pair of rough-looking men to take on a last-minute piece of cargo. She only caught snippets of the conversation, most of them Alucard’s, tuned as she was to his Arnesian.

“Where do you put in … that’s what, a fortnight this time of year …?”

Lila pocketed the pin and sifted through Elsor’s papers, holding them up to the nearest lantern light. The man liked to draw. Small pictures lined the edges of every scrap of paper, save the formal invitation. That was a lovely thing, edged in gold—it reminded her of the invite to Prince Rhy’s birthday ball—marred only by a single fold down the center. Elsor had also been carrying a half-written letter, and a few sparse notes on the other competitors. Lila smiled when she saw his one-word note on Alucard Emery:

Performer.

She folded the pages and tucked them into her coat. Speaking of coats—she crouched and began to peel the unconscious man out of his. It was fine, a dark charcoal grey with a low, stiff collar and a belted waist. For a moment she considered trading, but couldn’t bring herself to part with Calla’s masterpiece, so instead she took a wool blanket from a cart and wrapped it around Elsor so he wouldn’t freeze.

Lastly she produced a knife and cut a lock of hair from the man’s head, tying it in a knot before dropping it in her pocket.

“I don’t want to know,” muttered Alucard, who was suddenly standing over her, the sailors a step behind. He nodded to the man on the ground.
“Ker tas naster,”
he grumbled.
There’s your man.

One of the sailors toed Elsor with his boot. “Drunk?”

The other sailor knelt, and clapped a pair of irons around Elsor’s wrists, and Lila saw Alucard flinch reflexively.

“Mind him,” he said as they hauled the man to his feet.

The sailor shrugged and mumbled something so garbled Lila couldn’t tell where one word ended and the next began. Alucard only nodded as they turned and began to haul him toward the ship.

“That’s it?” asked Lila.

Alucard frowned. “You know the most valuable currency in life, Bard?”

“What?”

“A favor.” His eyes narrowed. “I now owe those men. And you owe me.” He kept his eyes trained on the sailors as they hauled the unconscious Elsor aboard. “I’ve gotten rid of your problem, but it won’t
stay
gone. That’s a criminal transport. Once it sets out, it’s not authorized to turn around until it reaches Delonar. And he’s not on the charter, so by the time it docks, they’ll know they’re carrying an innocent man. So no matter what happens, you better not be here when he gets back.”

The meaning in the words was clear, but she still had to ask. “And the
Spire
?”

Alucard looked at her, jaw set. “It only has room for one criminal.” He let out a low breath, which turned to fog before his mouth. “But I wouldn’t worry.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’ll get caught long before we sail away.”

Lila managed a grim smirk as Stasion Elsor and the sailors vanished below deck. “Have a little faith, Captain.”

But the truth was, she had no idea what she was going to do when this fell apart, no idea if she’d just damned herself by accident, or worse, on purpose. Sabotaged another life. Just like at the Stone’s Throw.

“Let’s get something straight,” said Alucard as they walked away from the docks. “My help ends here. Alucard Emery and Stasion Elsor have no business with each other. And if we chance to meet in the ring, I won’t spare you.”

Lila snorted. “I should hope not. Besides, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“I suppose you do,” he said, finally glancing toward her. “After all, if you run far enough, no one can catch you.”

She frowned, remembering his question, her answer.

“How long have you known?” she asked.

Alucard managed a ghost of a smile, framed by the doorway of their inn. “Why do you think I let you on my ship?”

“Because I was the best thief?”

“Certainly the strangest.”

* * *

Lila didn’t bother with sleep; there was too much to do. She and Alucard vanished into their respective rooms without even so much as a
good night
, and when she left a few hours later with Elsor’s things bundled under her arm, Alucard didn’t follow, even though she
knew
he was awake.

One problem at a time
, she told herself as she climbed the stairs of the Coach and Castle Inn, the room key hanging from her fingers. A brass tag on the end held the name of the place and the room—3.

She found Elsor’s room and let herself in.

She’d raided the man’s pockets and studied his papers, but if there was anything else to learn before she donned the role at nightfall, she figured she’d find it here.

The room was simple. The bed was made. A looking glass leaned by the window and a silver folding frame sat on the narrow sill, a portrait of Elsor on one side, and a young woman on the other.

Rifling through a trunk at the foot of the bed, she found a few more pieces of clothing, a notebook, a short sword, a pair of gloves. These last were peculiar, designed to cover the tops of the hands but expose the palms and fingertips. Perfect for a fireworker, she thought, pocketing them.

The notebook held mostly sketches—including several of the young woman—as well as a few scribbled notes and a travel ledger. Elsor was scrupulous, and by all evidence, he had indeed come alone. Several letters and slips were tucked into the notebook, and Lila studied his signature, practicing first with her fingers and then a stub of a pencil until she’d gotten it right.

She then began to empty the trunk, tossing the contents onto the bed one by one. A set of boxes near the bottom held an elongated hat that curled down over the brow, and a canvas that unfolded to reveal a set of toiletries.

And then, in a box at the back of the trunk, she found Elsor’s mask.

It was carved out of wood, and vaguely resembled a ram, with horns that hugged the sides of one’s head and curled against one’s cheeks. The only real facial coverage was a nose plate. That wouldn’t do. She returned it to the bottom of the chest, and closed the lid.

Next she tried on each piece of clothing, testing her measurements against Elsor’s. As she’d hoped, they weren’t too far off. An examination of a pair of trousers confirmed she was an inch or two shorter than the man, but wedging some socks in the heels of her boots gave her the extra measure of height.

Lastly, Lila took up the portrait from the sill, and examined the man’s face. He was wearing a hat like the one discarded on the bed, and dark hair spilled out beneath it, framing his angled face with near-black curls.

Lila’s own hair was several shades lighter, but when she doused it with water from the basin, it looked close. Not a permanent solution, of course, especially in winter, but it helped her focus as she drew out one of her knives.

She returned the portrait to the sill, studying it as she took up a chunk of hair and sawed at it with the blade. It had grown long in the months at sea, and there was something liberating about shearing it off again. Strands tumbled to the floor as she shortened the back and shaped the front, the abusive combination of cold and steel giving the ends a slight curl.

Digging through Elsor’s meager supplies, she found a comb as well as a tub of something dark and glossy. It smelled like tree nuts, and when she worked it into her hair, she was relieved to see it hold the curl.

His charcoal coat lay on the bed, and she shrugged it on. Taking up the hat from the bed, she set it gingerly on her styled head, and turned toward her reflection. A stranger, not quite Elsor but certainly not Bard, stared back at her. Something was missing. The pin. She dug in the pockets of his coat and pulled out the iridescent collar pin, fastening it at her throat. Then she cocked her head, adjusting her posture and mannerisms until the illusion came into sharper focus.

Lila broke into a grin.

This
, she thought, adding Elsor’s short sword to her waist,
is
almost
as fun as being a pirate.

“Avan, ras Elsor,”
said a portly woman when she descended the stairs. The innkeeper.

Lila nodded, wishing she’d had a chance to hear the man speak. Hadn’t Alucard said that Stross was from the same part of the empire? His accent had rough edges, which Lila tried to mimic as she murmured,
“Avan.”

The illusion held. No one else paid her any mind, and Lila strode out into the morning light, not as a street thief, or a sailor, but a magician, ready for the
Essen Tasch.

I

The day before the
Essen Tasch
, the Night Market roused itself around noon.

Apparently the lure of festivities and foreigners eager to spend money was enough to amend the hours. With time to kill before the Banner Night, Lila wandered the stalls, her coins jingling in Elsor’s pockets; she bought a cup of spiced tea and some kind of sweet bun, and tried to make herself comfortable in her new persona.

She didn’t dare go back to the Wandering Road, where she’d have to trade Elsor for Bard or else be recognized. Once the tournament began, it wouldn’t matter. Identities would disappear behind personas. But today she needed to be seen. Recognized. Remembered.

It wasn’t hard. The stall owners were notorious gossips—all she had to do was strike up conversation as she shopped, drop a hint, a detail, once or twice a name, purposefully skirt the topic of the tournament, leave a parcel behind so someone trotted after her calling out, “Elsor! Master Elsor!”

By the time she reached the palace edge of the market, the work was done, word weaving through the crowd.
Stasion Elsor. One of the competitors. Handsome fellow. Too thin. Never seen him before. What can he do? Guess we’ll see.
She felt their eyes on her as she shopped, caught the edges of their whispered conversation, and tried to smother her thief’s instinct to shake the gaze and disappear.

Not yet
, she thought as the sun finally began to sink.

One thing was still missing.

“Lila,” said Calla when she entered. “You’re early.”

“You didn’t set a time.”

The merchant stopped, taking in Lila’s new appearance.

“How do I look?” she asked, shoving her hands in Elsor’s coat.

Calla sighed. “Even less like a woman than usual.” She plucked the hat off Lila’s head and turned it over in her hands.

“This is not bad,” said Calla, before noticing Lila’s shorn hair. She took a piece between her fingers. “But what is
this
?”

Lila shrugged. “I wanted a change.”

Calla tutted, but she didn’t prod. Instead, she disappeared through a curtain, and emerged a moment later with a box.

Inside was Lila’s mask.

She lifted it, and staggered at the weight. The interior had been lined with dark metal, so cleanly made and shaped that it looked poured instead of hammered. Calla hadn’t disposed of the leather demon mask, not entirely, but she’d taken it apart and made something new. The lines were clean, the angles sharp. Where simple black horns had once corkscrewed up over the head, now they curled back in an elegant way. The brow was sharper, jutting forward slightly like a visor, and the bottom of the mask, which had once ended on her cheekbones, now dipped lower at the sides, following the lines of her jaw. It was still a monster’s face, but it was a new breed of demon.