The Pyramid Waltz (37 page)

“Good day,” Starbride said after Maia squeezed her arm. “My name is…Jewelnoble, and I’ve come to donate a book.”

He brightened moderately. “A donation?”

Starbride rushed ahead with another quick idea. “It’s an early copy of Skystalwart’s journal.”

The clerk stood slowly, his young face paling. “You have an early copy of the journal of the most infamous Allusian in history?”

Part of her expected him not to know what she was talking about, but she supposed that monks who sought enlightenment through books would know even the classics of Allusia. “Copied from his original journal months after his death and handed from family to family until it found its way into mine.”

“Its condition?”

“A little battered,” she said. He winced. “A tad weathered.” He put a hand to his mouth. Starbride put on a remorseful look. “We don’t wish its condition to worsen.”

“Of course, of course.” He shuffled some papers on his desk. “Do you have it with you now, or…?”

Starbride leaned on the desk, warming to the game. “I have to impress upon you, sir, the importance of this book to my family. We want it kept here in Farraday, in this chapterhouse, so far from our country, for its own safety.”

“Oh, if more people thought like you, we could save so many texts, but people hoard them, you see, afraid for the books’ safety, but we can care for them so much better than the average person!”

Starbride almost took his hand, but that might be going too far. “I need some assurances.”

“I’ve told her that your security is the best,” Maia said in a drawl that echoed Katya. “But she
would
come and see for herself.”

“What measures have you taken to safeguard your treasures?” Starbride asked.

“The best. We don’t rely on our guards and glass cases. We protect the building with pyramids fashioned by the best pyradisté of his class.”

“What sorts of pyramids?”

The clerk waggled a finger at her. “Are you testing me? If I gave that away to anyone who asked, people could find a way around our precautions.”

Starbride stiffened and tried to look as affronted as possible. “That is not good enough.” She half turned as if she might storm away.

The clerk babbled. Maia caught Starbride’s arm. “Spirits above, Jewelnoble, you are
forever
reactionary. Look here, good monk, if you won’t tell us about the pyramids, can we at least meet the man who made them? Would that suffice, Jewelnoble?”

Starbride tilted her head back and forth. “I suppose.”

“I can arrange that. Let me go see if he’s available.” He hurried up the stairs.

Starbride towed Maia across the room. “We’re lucky it’s so dark in here.”

“I suppose it’s good for the books.”

Starbride peeked at the scrolls inside the cases and wished she had time to study them. If she did come back, she’d have to do it in disguise and go to one of the other clerks for help. One other monk manned the desk, but he appeared engrossed in his work. He hadn’t even glanced up during their entire exchange.

“Someone’s coming,” Maia said. “Get ready to duck.”

Starbride gripped her arm as the clerk marched back down the staircase with another man behind him. Tall and powerfully built but gray-haired and wrinkled, this pyradisté was far older than their bearded man. Maia and Starbride moved forward to finish their ruse. They found out that this pyradisté had proudly come to work for the knowledge chapterhouse as he had a love for books himself.

In good time, they made their excuses and promised to return in a few days, just as they had at the counting house. As they rode toward the trading company, Maia asked, “Who was Skystalwart, anyway?”

“An Allusian who twisted the servants’ code. He saw his master heading down the path of corruption, and instead of following, he decided to save his master, his master’s family, and all the servants from themselves. He killed seven people in all, four of them children, two his own.” She shivered in the bright sun. “The last entry in his journal admitted why he did it, and he gave himself up right after he wrote it.”

“What happened to him?”

“They tied each of his limbs to a different horse, and—”

“That’s enough. I don’t need to know the rest.”

“Old copies of his journals are rare. At one point, several servant caste families revolted and treated him like a hero, even though he always said his actions were for the good of the family he served. For a time, his journal was banned, and old copies were destroyed. Now he’s a cautionary tale.”

“Quite the bait for our hook.”

“Indeed. You take the next one. My knees are still shaking.”

They had no more luck at the trading company, and they played much the same routine as at the counting house. Traveling nobles, lots of cash, worried for the safety of their valuables, etc. etc. Starbride was happier standing back in the noisy, dirty warehouse and letting Maia take the lead, but she could see how a person could get accustomed to such playacting. Lying was easier than she thought it would be. She had to admit it was also more fun, but she wouldn’t want to do it all the time. Easy to see, then, why Katya wanted to get away from it once in a while, to just be herself and not act the part of the languid princess.

The thought that she was one of the few people who really knew what being the Princess of Farraday entailed pleased Starbride to the bone. In a world of sycophantic copies, she was almost unique. She shook her head to bring her back to task as Maia was introduced to the trading company’s pyradisté. Once again, no luck.

In a stable yard at the back of a high-priced inn, they met Pennynail. He sat on a barrel and rolled a knife over his gloved fingers. He pointed to the sky when he saw them.

“I know we’re late,” Maia said. “We had three places to do, and you only had two.”

“You’ve already spied on the noble houses?” Starbride asked. He nodded.

“We’ve had no luck,” Maia said. “How about you?”

He held up one finger and then pointed at Starbride and the eyeholes of the mask.

“One person you want me to see?” Starbride asked. “Which house?” In her head, she dared him to pantomime Chelius or Montenegro.

Pennynail sheathed his small knife, put both hands palm up at chest level, and cupped them as if he were holding two large balls. Starbride burst out laughing. “That woman is defined by her figure!”

Pennynail saluted. “So,” Maia said, “the Montenegro pyradisté might be our man. What a surprise. You peeked in windows until you spied him?” Pennynail nodded. Maia tapped her chin with one finger, reminding Starbride of Katya again. “How do we get Starbride in to see him, then? Without him seeing her, I mean.”

“Skulking!” Starbride clenched her hands. They both turned to stare at her, and she blushed. “I’ve, um, always wanted to…sneak. You know, surreptitious spying just seems…”

Pennynail put a hand to his mask’s mouth and turned away as if embarrassed for her.

“Well,” Starbride said, “it’s the best way, isn’t it?”

Lying belly-down in Lady Hilda’s back garden, Starbride rethought her position on skulking. It was dirty and hot and took hours of patient waiting while not speaking or moving much, not that her companion would have spoken anyway. Pennynail lay beside her, his stare not wandering from the large picture window in front of them. He wasn’t able to tell her, but she guessed this must be where he’d spotted the pyradisté. The room stood empty, and they could see inside because it sat in the shade, and even though the sun was high, the room had been lit with several lamps sitting along a table piled high with books.

Starbride wished she had a book. Anything would be better than the empty-handed waiting. Pennynail had insisted she keep her cloak on. He’d pointed to her red outfit and then put a hand to his eyes as if the color blinded him. It was cooler under the bushes than it would have been in the sun, but out of the breeze, the heavy cloak began to stifle. It had already hampered her climb over the wall. Pennynail practically had to hoist her up and then toss her over.

Starbride told herself to stop complaining. She wasn’t in immediate danger, and now she was qualified to write a treatise on how odious skulking was. Stretching as much as she could, she rested her chin on her arms and glanced at Pennynail. He turned her head back to the window again.

She wanted to yell, “But there’s no one there!” Maybe he didn’t like people staring at him. But how could someone who wore a mask not like people staring at him? The mask’s rosy cheeks, empty eyeholes, and ear-to-ear grin invited stares, even more so with the dirt he’d smeared on it to help him hide. Encased in leather, his identity remained a mystery. Such a person was
invented
to be stared at.

Maybe there was a flaw in his costume. Maybe if she looked hard, she could figure out who he was. If she knew him without the mask, she could pick out a detail that would reveal his identity. She tried to look without turning her head. He poked her in the shoulder, and she snapped her gaze back to the window.

Lady Hilda glided into the room in front of them. Starbride held her breath. She didn’t expect Lady Hilda to be in the house at all, but why keep the house if she never used it? A tall man in a pyradisté’s cassock followed her inside, and Starbride squinted, straining to see him in the dim light. Lady Hilda gestured as she spoke, but they couldn’t hear her, and he stayed toward the back of the room. Starbride pushed forward a little, and Pennynail grabbed her arm. She froze. Moving would attract too much attention, and Lady Hilda wouldn’t have the trouble seeing them as they did seeing her or her pyradisté.

Starbride willed the pyradisté to step closer to the window, and he did at last. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she saw his face, and for a moment, she was certain he was the same man from the woods. She shut her eyes hard and then opened them again, and this man became similar to the one she’d seen, but there were differences now that she stared.

Her memory wanted this man to fit her mental picture, but if she was honest with herself, he didn’t. The hair was a different tint, the face and nose a different shape. He stared out the window, and she looked at his eyes. Yes, his were definitely a darker shade. She glanced at Pennynail’s masked face and shook her head very slightly.

He nodded just as softly, and all they had to do was wait until the room was unoccupied again. Pennynail backed out of the bushes and then pulled her after him, making her wait until he seemed certain they should proceed. On their way to the wall, he had her stop and crouch in the bushes half a dozen times. She saw and heard nothing, and when they reached the wall again, she wondered if he was doing it just to annoy her or teach her once and for all that sneaking through others’ lives wasn’t all she’d made it to be in her imagination.

After he hoisted her up the wall and tossed her over again, she was certain of it. “I get it. I shouldn’t be so eager.”

He saluted her, and she couldn’t guess at all of the gesture’s meaning. She hoped Katya was having better luck. Maybe she’d already caught and killed their rogue pyradisté. Sneaking and playacting, flirting with danger, it still thrilled and terrified her. She just hadn’t known it would be so draining. She reminded herself to ask Katya and Maia what they did to keep their energy up. She could nap for years.

After their day of hunting the bearded man and not finding him, Katya awoke to good news. Crowe tactfully waited until she and Starbride were dressed to tell them about it. When they both emerged into the private sitting room, he coughed into his fist, but Katya had pulled that trick too many times to miss his smile.

“Good, well, you’re both here,” he said. “I have located our remaining three pyradistés.”

“We won’t have to skulk, will we?” Starbride said.

“Didn’t enjoy your time with Pennynail, eh?” Katya asked.

“Once was enough.”

“Well,” Crowe said, “I don’t know about skulking, but one should be very easy to find. He’s dead.”

“How long?” Katya asked.

“A month, by all accounts. Accidental death. Trampled by a runaway horse.”

“Poor man,” Starbride said.

Katya nearly kissed her but resisted in front of Crowe. “And the other two?”

“One is working for a noble, doing some delicate work in the north. I had a long talk with the noble in question, and I believe the tale is legitimate.”

“Which noble?” Katya asked.

Crowe gave her a sardonic look. “I promised not to tell.”

“Crowe…”

He held up a hand. “Nothing that affects the security of the kingdom or the crown.”

Starbride scooted to the edge of her seat. “It must be some vulgar intrigue if this noble doesn’t want people to know.”

“Dying of curiosity?” Katya asked.

“I bet I could find out if I asked—”

“Don’t even think it!” Crowe said. “Or you’ll swiftly find yourself without a teacher.” Starbride pressed her lips together as if swallowing a laugh.

“All right, Crowe. Who’s our third candidate? He has to be our man.”

“He’s a free agent, a pyradisté for hire, so to speak, and from what Pennynail and I have been able to gather, he’s not too picky about who he associates with as long as they can pay.”