The Privilege of the Sword (30 page)

Her eyes got a little wide, and then I watched her face change subtly. Some of the pain went out of it, to be replaced by a soft determination. “All will be well,” she said, and I knew she was thinking of the same chapter I was, “with you at my side.”

I turned back to the ballroom then, which was good because I was blushing. Although I’d thought about it a lot on my own, no one had ever compared me to Fabian before.

The place was a madhouse, with people dancing and kissing and who knows what. I was never going to find her cousin Lucius without some kind of a plan.
Lucius Perry, Lucius Perry…
He was a nobleman, and a Perry at that. Even I had heard of the Perrys, a large and prosperous family. No wonder the duke didn’t want us to know who his visitor really was. The duke was encouraging Artemisia’s cousin Lucius in a life of vice, and taking his share out of the profits, too. Maybe the duke was blackmailing young Perry. Did Tremontaine blackmail people, or did he draw the line at that? He had some strange notions about honor, did my uncle the Mad Duke.

“Out of my way, boy!” A big man in red brocade bumped into me, and I jumped about a foot. Was this Artemisia’s betrothed, that evil man? I didn’t know what the Crescent Chancellor looked like, but I wanted to be sure he didn’t find her again tonight. Now I really wished Marcus were here. But he wasn’t. That might be for the best, though. I would definitely tell him about Lucius Perry; Perry was ours. But what had happened to Artemisia Fitz-Levi, that was something I must keep to myself.

If you were a nobleman leading a double life who had decided to attend a Rogues’ Ball where half the people knew you as one sort of person, and the other as another, where would you be? Masked, I thought, if you had any sense. But had he? He had been in the allegory bare-faced. My master said that there were swordsmen who courted the dangerous opponent and the sudden move. He must be like that, her cousin Lucius.

“I’m writing a song.” The voice was so close I thought it was directed at me, but the speakers were off to one side, above my head. “‘The Maid with the Blade.’ It will sell like mad on the street.”

“Dirty or clean?”

“Oh, romantic, I think. With lots of verses; maybe I’ll even run to two sides….”

It was about me, and it wasn’t, but I couldn’t worry about that now. I moved slowly onwards, looking.

Lucius Perry was masked, so it’s a good thing I recognized his smooth dark hair, that and his sleeve, which was of an unusual cut in that glorious peacock blue. When you’ve mended as many clothes as I have, you sort of memorize fabrics without realizing it. He stood off to one side, leaning against the wall with a drink in his hand, watching everyone.

“Come quickly!” I said, without wasting time. “Artemisia is here, and she needs you!”

He lifted the soft velvet mask off his eyes. “Who—oh, you’re the—Wait a minute. What’s happened?”

I grabbed his wrist. “Just come!”

I had thought she would fall into his arms weeping, but when she saw her cousin, Artemisia simply held out her trembling hands. “Lucius,” she whispered, “take me home.”

“I will.” But first he took off his mask, and tied it securely over her face. “Come,” he said; “come with me, and don’t speak a word.”

He put an arm around her waist, and she leaned on him, very shaky. “Don’t worry,” I said encouragingly, and tried to think of something better to say. “Tonight’s deed will not go unpunished.”

She turned and smiled at me, and then she and Lucius Perry disappeared into the crowd.

Pinking Alcuin’s bullyblade Rippington had been nothing, just swordplay and acrobatics. But at least now I knew that I could win a fight against a full-grown man. What Lord Ferris had done to my friend was unspeakable, disgusting. When she told her family, they would probably kill him. But if they didn’t, I would.

chapter
VI

I
WOKE UP WITH KITTENS ALL OVER MY FACE.
I
RAISED
a hand to brush them off, but they turned out not to have any legs or tails. My uncle the mad duke was sweeping swathes of velvet over me, cheerfully urging, “Get up, get up—have some tea and tell me which one you like best.”

I pulled the blankets up around my neck. The swathes were attached to several large bolts of fabric, which a nervous shop assistant was holding while the duke tried them against my face. I looked around for Marcus, but he, thank god, was not there to see; only Betty stood by, patiently holding a cup of tea. I seized it from her and drank, and said, “My sword!” I had put it away dirty last night. Blick, blick, blick, as Venturus would say. I’d be ages getting the rust out.

“Never mind that,” my uncle said. “Just tell me which one you like best.”

“I like them all,” I said, playing for time while I tried to wake up. There was a fire in the hearth, and the sun coming through the thick old windows was mid-afternoonish. I remembered coming home in the thin light of dawn, my uncle a dead weight in the sedan chair beside me. He’d had his fill of the red-haired artist and a number of other stimulants, besides. There’d been no moving him without two hefty footmen. I’d tumbled into bed without a thought for anything other than how soft it was.

“Well, you’re not having them all, just one.”

“One what? You shouldn’t be here,” I groused. “I’m not even dressed.”

“Don’t be prudish. You can defend yourself perfectly well. You proved that last night. I am very, very pleased. Also relieved. I’m making you a present: a lovely velvet cloak. Made to your measure, with room to grow. Now, which do you like best?”

I clutched at the nearest velvet, and to my shame I started to cry. It was unbelievable. I had almost killed a man last night, and now I was going to have the cloak of my dreams. And my friend Artemisia had been forced in a crowded ballroom, in her beautiful lavender gown.

I
T’S NOT TO BE BORNE.”
L
ADY
F
ITZ
-L
EVI PUT HER HANDS
on her breast. “Really, Fitz, it is intolerable.”

“Agreed.” Her husband shifted his chair closer to the fire, and picked a spot of egg off his vest. “Something must be done.”

“Indeed.”

“I can hardly bear it.”

“Terrible.” Her husband shook his head in annoyance. “What on earth was she thinking of, running off like that? A young lady betrothed, and to such a place. It’s a wonder she wasn’t set upon by rogues of the vilest kind.” His lady nodded. “Of course, Ferris had no business taking her there. A grown man like that, helping her in a schoolgirl prank. I thought he had more sense.”

“It was she, my dear, who lacked sense. I’m sure she just twisted Ferris round her little finger, as she always does. She got in over her head, and now she’s sorry and wants to call off the wedding. Well, I’m not having it. She’ll take the consequences of her folly and make us proud in the end, and that is that.”

“I saw those flowers he sent this morning; man’s besotted.”

“He surely must be. She’s a lucky girl and doesn’t even know it. Refusing her food like that. I’ve tried all morning, but I cannot talk sense into her.”

“Well, girls have their humors. We cannot
force
her to eat.”

“Do you think so?” Nervously his wife twisted her lace fichu in her ringed fingers. “They always forced
me
to eat. Boiled carrots. I hated them.”

“I think she’s a bit old for boiled carrots,” said her husband. “But you’re welcome to try.”

“She’s a bit old to be carrying on like a baby! Maybe boiled carrots is what she deserves.”

“Why don’t you make her something she particularly likes? A nice cake, or something.”

“She refused her toast and chocolate; am I to treat her like an invalid? No, indeed. She must know that I am very displeased. All she will say is that she wants you to challenge Lord Ferris.”

Lord Fitz-Levi snorted. “Why would I want to do that? Ruin the wedding and ruin her name at the same time? And ruin our highest ally in the Council of Lords? I’m counting on him to help Robbie to a good post this year. What a lot of fuss over nothing.”

“That’s what I told her. Do you know, I think we should move the wedding up? They’ll have to work harder on the gown, but it will be worth it. Oh, she’ll make a lovely bride!”

T
HE
D
UKE
T
REMONTAINE PERSONALLY SIGNED THE
order for his niece’s new garment, all three yards of it, silk lining and tassels and all. He signed it with a flourish, and picked up his next piece of business, ignoring the opening of the study door, since he knew perfectly well who it was.

“Are you happy now?” the Ugly Girl said. “Your niece is the talk of the town.”

“How would you know?” the duke asked, amused. “You don’t get out much.”

She held up a cheap sheet of paper, as cheaply printed. It was a rude cartoon of a tall, thin, unhappy-looking man and a bosomy girl with a sword pointed upwards; the words underneath were:
“Oh, no! My Tool is useless, I must find a Girl to do the Work for me!”

He took the page from her, and held it up to a candle. “Don’t let her see it. And if she does, don’t explain it to her.”

“What about you? Don’t you mind?”

The duke singed the edges of the page so that they were evenly crisped all round. “About this one more than any of the others? Why should I? I’m a popular figure. They like doing my nose.” He turned it around again; the lowest letters, which named the printer and engraver, blackened away. “Alcuin’s not the first of my discards to try something like this: nasty drawings, imprecations on my manhood. Horrible, isn’t it?” he said cheerfully. “Do you think I should have him killed, or what?”

“You’ve already subjected your pretty friend to a fate worse than death, haven’t you?” she said peevishly. “Let’s leave it at that. What I want to know is, are you through with the girl, or just beginning?”

“I didn’t know you were so fond of her,” the duke said.

“I’m not. It’s a theoretical question. I’m interested in the way your mind works—or doesn’t work, depending.”

“Do you mean: she’s done her trick, now I should find some nice nobleman and marry her off? In that case, no, I’m not done with her. Besides, she’s company for Marcus. He needs more friends his own age.”