Glittering Shadows (29 page)

W
hen she safely reached home, Marlis locked herself in her room to be alone with her diaries and her rattled nerves. Freddy knocked on the door,
but she turned him away.

“I feel sick,” she said.

“Do you need anything?”

“Only to be left alone.”

She didn’t sleep, but stayed up reading the diaries, searching for solace that she never found. The person she had been in the past never seemed conflicted, even when she had to dole out
punishment.

In the morning, Volland came to see her, and although she had been so glad when he agreed to follow her here, now it was almost painful to see a familiar face. She wanted to cry to him, and she
didn’t have that kind of relationship with Volland. She didn’t have that relationship with anyone.

“Marlis,” he said gently. “It would not have gone well for General Wachter anyway. You know the revolutionaries are going to dredge up every detail of who did what and who knew
what, and then hold trials. Every person who had a family member laboring underground will demand that. He wouldn’t want to be executed or imprisoned or exiled. It’s just as
well.”

“I knew him all my life…” She didn’t even know what to say anymore.

Volland gave her an awkward shoulder pat. He hesitated, searching for words, before saying, “It was a brave thing to do.” Then he left. She did feel better from this, but it
wasn’t enough.

When she emerged from her room, Sebastian approached her in the hall. He was only limping a little now, so he must have gotten a properly fitted leg. And he looked excited. “Well, well.
The city is all abuzz about you this morning,” he said. “A copy of your speech is already circulating. I’m not sure everyone knows what to make of the Norn story, but we can put
out our own literature and get it sorted out. Are you all right?”

“You must have heard about General Wachter.”

“Yes, I talked to Volland. He said you were fairly close to Mrs. Wachter.”

She nodded, but no explanation quite captured her feelings. She tried to shake it off. Nothing to be done now. “Is there really a copy of my speech out there? I’d like to see
it.”

“I’ll obtain one for you.”

In a manner of days, Marlis had the political attention she had always wished for. Her words circulated throughout the city. First, the copy of her speech—full of
inaccuracies that made the revolutionaries sound better. Then she released an official transcript, adding additional material on the history of the Norns, drawing quotes from her diaries.

One afternoon Freddy approached her with a poster rolled up in his hand. “Looks like someone has become the poster girl for the revolution.”

“Oh no.”

“Lucas just brought it in.” He unfolded the paper to reveal a stylized modern girl with severe black bob and round glasses, lifting her hand in the revolutionary salute, with bold
lettering that said
THE FACE OF MODERN MAGIC
.

“I would never do the revolutionary salute!” She tried to grab the poster, but he lifted it out of reach.

“No use ripping it up,” he said. “They said it’s plastered everywhere. Shouldn’t you be proud? What did you want that speech to accomplish, if not something close
to this?”

“Hmm,” she said, not wanting to admit he was right.

“I know. Sometimes getting what you want isn’t quite as good as it sounds,” he said.

She wanted even less to admit he was right about that as well.

The last pieces of her world crumbled in the few weeks following her speech, now that so many pillars of the old guard had fallen—Roderick Valkenrath, Vice Chancellor
Walther, her father, General Wachter. Gerik was taken to trial. Others resigned. Brunner was appointed chancellor in a hastily arranged election, and UWP members took all the minister
positions.

Sebastian insisted on patience as this unfolded. “We have to let the dust settle,” he said. “Your strategy has been perfect. You’re above all this ugly negotiation. If
Brunner goes down, he won’t drag you with him.”

“But we must design some better posters,” she said, “where I am not giving the UWP salute!”

She didn’t listen to a word of Brunner’s inauguration. Deep down, the UWP would always feel like her enemies, and she hated being lauded for killing Wachter. The new poster-girl
Marlis felt as fake as the one who had given a speech for her father.

Her father’s words had never felt more true.
All politics is a game.
Even when you told the truth, it seemed that truth had a life of its own.

“D
o you recognize this place?” Ingrid asked, as the spires of a town came into view in the valley ahead. She did not usually walk
beside Nan on their travels, but stayed with her men, leaving Nan and Sigi guarded but set apart.

The entire landscape was deeply familiar to Nan. They had walked through thick forests that smelled of evergreens and clean snow and memories. They crossed rolling pastures and passed farmhouses
with cheerful lines of wood smoke reaching straight for the cloudy winter skies. But the town that lay before them did stir something even deeper with its particular makeup of church spires and the
crumbling stone walls wrapped around it.

For a moment, as she looked at the town, the soft colors of winter bloomed in her vision. The sky was not pure gray, as she thought, nor the snow only white. Both held layers of blue: gray-blue
clouds across the sky, purple-blue shadows beneath the trees. The snowcapped roofs of the town reflected the setting sun, turning golden.

The vision was there only for an instant.

We were happy here,
Nan thought. The sight of this town seemed to promise a warm fire and good food.

“Did we live here once?” Nan asked.

“Close,” Ingrid said. “This is Rauthenburg. The Mariendorfs lived here. They were friends of ours across several lifetimes, who gave us a place to stay when we traveled between
the north and south—or Irminau and Urobrun, as we know the regions now. Urd always thought them a little too loud, but then, she thought that of most people.”

“Will we stay with them now?” Nan asked.

“I lost touch with the current generation, and I wouldn’t impose when we have such a large group. We’ll stay at a hotel.”

As they walked into town, the memories grew thicker. Small shops and vendor stalls crowded the main street. Witches once sold charms and potions here, but she didn’t see any of them now.
She remembered a cloth vendor that she had particularly liked, although she couldn’t recall what kinds of cloth she used to buy.

“I’m feeling so oddly homesick,” she whispered to Sigi.

“For the past?” Sigi asked.

“I don’t know. For this town. I don’t know if you can be homesick for a place when you’re in it, but I am. I’m a stranger now.”

Nan had barely been outside of the neighborhood where she’d grown up, much less the city of Urobrun itself. Just as a part of her was homesick, another part of her felt it was all new. She
was delighted at the sight of old frame cottages and the narrow, curving streets that followed the natural slopes of the hilly landscape. It grew dark so early now that it was near the shortest day
of the year, and streetlamps turned the snow bright. Doors and balconies were decked with evergreens. It was all like a scene from a storybook. Thea would have been peering at all the pastries and
dolls in shop windows.

The charm was finally broken when six men in uniforms, with epaulets and tall boots, approached Ingrid as if they had been expecting her.

“Lady Skuld,” the one in front said, bowing. “Baron Best.” His clothes were finer than the rest, with an array of medals pinned to his chest, a cape, and a peaked hat
edged in fur, but he was a ferocious-looking man. His dark beard fell across the collar of his uniform, and his eyes were pale. “King Otto told me you were coming. Some of my men shall escort
you to the capital. For tonight, I have the pleasure of entertaining you.”

“Thank you.” Ingrid didn’t bow or curtsy in return.

“You all must be tired. We have reserved space at Traveler’s Hotel for tonight.”

Ingrid nodded. “Lead the way, Baron.”

Nan felt pinched inside at every mention of his status. They had really arrived, to this land of royalty. Baron Best didn’t look or sound like the Irminauers Nan was familiar with. He must
come out of the far north, where snowcapped mountains cut a rugged border between Irminau and the small countries beyond, which were even more wild and strange. When he walked down the street,
people scurried out of the way. He was almost seven feet tall with his hat. He and all his men were armed with pistols and sabers.

“Whoa, it’s the Six Swordsmen of Salandra,” Sigi said, referencing a swashbuckler movie from last year.

Nan grinned. “But Remy Paul is only a hair over five feet in real life,” she said.

“Did you ever serve him, then? At the Telephone Club?” Sigi asked.

Nan nodded. “Once. He was very nice. And he tips well, too. But his favorite waitress was Pauline.”

“Really? I thought you’d tell me he was a cad. Nearly all the famous actors I’ve ever met were. I used to pretend to be Remy Paul when I was a kid, back when he was in
Master of the Seas
. My mother was very chagrined that I used her makeup to paint a mustache on my face.”

“That explains your adventurous streak.” Nan tried to relax into the chatter and not think of the fact that the Irminau army had joined them.

The sun was setting as they followed Baron Best to the hotel. Royal flags fluttered from the roof of the white-and-gold building, and electric lights shone on the snow heaped around the
sidewalks. The hotel had probably been built twenty or thirty years before, but compared to all the older houses and shops in the rest of town, it seemed almost offensively new, and the lobby
smelled of fresh paint and furniture polish. A portrait of King Otto hung over the desk, a sharp-eyed, dark-haired man wearing an ermine robe, who bore a faint resemblance to Sebastian.

Bellhops took their bags, and the baron showed them into a dining room that had been reserved entirely for their party.

Nan was not invited to Ingrid’s table—or was it really Baron Best’s table? She could see them from afar, the baron leaning toward Ingrid, while she seemed even smaller than
usual, listening to him speak with a steady, unreadable gaze. Her body language did not suggest trust.