She patted my arm as though we were old friends. “We shall make a proper Hundred’s Floodmouth of you yet!”
12
Thesun was dipping low in the sky as we exited onto the steep cobbled street. Though sunset—the time given in my mysterious summons—still looked to be an hour or so off, I glanced at Vercha and Debry nervously. I still needed time to locate the Veil.
“Now, to market,” Vercha said, consulting a list. “There’s the glovers to visit. But oh, first the drapers…”
I dug around in my pocket, fervently hoping my plan would work.
“Miss Haney asked me to get some new clothes,” I ventured, bringing out a few coins. I’d left some in my pocket, but Vercha didn’t need to know that. “Simple things, she said. Workwear and shifts. But I don’t know which stalls are best to try…”
“Goodness,” said Vercha, staring down at the paltry sum. “That won’t do. That won’t do at all.” She frowned. “Didn’t I say you should always come to me? Here.” She fished around and brought out a heavy coin purse, round as an apple and straining around its contents. “This should do it. Make sure you get some nice outfits—a gown or two, some smart bodices and hose. Try Crengar’s, on East Street,notthe market.Stalls,indeed.” She looked me up and down. “Really, I should come with you. I have a fine eye for fabrics and tailoring, you know.”
“Oh, no,” I said, panicking. “You have so much else to organize.”
“She’s right, Miss,” said Debry, eyeing my funds jealously.
Vercha gave a sigh. “Yes, I suppose so. But later, you must come and show me everything, and if it’s not quite right, we’ll send it back with Ferda.”
Heart pumping now, I forced a grateful nod.
“Meet us back at the carriage at sunset,” Vercha called as she beckoned Debry down the street.
Sunset.My stomach swooped.
I’d have to hope this meeting—whatever it had in store for me—was quick.
—
An hour later, I lurked in an alley and gazed out at the Veil, which glowed rose gold with the setting sun.
I’d had to ask directions, but I was careful to approach someone who looked about as far removed from the Hundred as possible: an old, grizzled sailor hefting a crate of hardtack. He’d squinted at me, taking in my fine livery, and pointed me toward a street called Queen’s Wharf.
The Veil had immediately caught my eye: a large, proud, four-story mansion, all red brick, white plaster, and black timber detailing. Vines wreathed its walls and curled around its windows, behind which I could just see heavy scarlet drapes. A sign hung above its carved double doors, depicting a masked jester peering from behind a curtain. I heard chattering, high laughter, the tinkling of glasses.
Patrons, impeccably dressed and, of course, masked, were queuing outside, filing past two burly doormen. There were Orha there,too—liveried and straight shouldered—but they were all accompanying someone or other.
Hells damn it.How would I get in alone?
First things first: I had to look the part.
Crengar’s had been a lucky suggestion from Vercha: An entire wall of the establishment was covered in masks. The tailor seemed to cater particularly to the fickle fashions of the Hundred, and my Shearwater livery meant I attracted no comment.
Retreating deeper into the alley, I changed behind a barrel, stuffing my bag of clothes well out of sight. I’d chosen carefully: an embroidered blouse, a new brushed bodice, and a pair of velvet breeches.
The mask had taken me even longer. There were eye masks, full-face masks, masks with long noses. Masks of feathers or lace or ceramic…even the terrifying visage of a dragon. I skipped over the grinning, blue-green likenesses of niskai, ribbons trailing from their edges like water, and masks made of bark to symbolize tree men.
In the end, I picked the sharp-beaked mask of a bluebird, drawn to its bluish-violet and gold feathers. I hoped the colors—which nearly matched the Shearwaters’ banners—might clue in my contact as to who I really was.
Now I fastened it over my face and checked my hair in the glass of a cracked window. I’d ditched my usual braids for this, twisting my red locks up into a knot. I’d never in a hundred years pass as a noble, but I hoped, even in the absence of my livery, I’d pass as just another of those haughty Orha.
It wasn’t quite full sunset, but I was horribly conscious that Vercha and Llir would soon be waiting at our carriage. I sidled around to the rear of the building, finding that it backed onto a pretty little yard. It was quieter here, and shadowed beyond the streetlamps, but there wasa single bored-looking guard standing sentry, overseeing an entrance I assumed was for staff. The door hung open, raised voices drifting out.
There was a well in the yard and, around a corner, some large barrels. I kept to the shadows. An idea budded in my mind.
The barrels were standing just out of the guard’s eyeline. From my hiding place, I took a few deep breaths—imagined it was just another practical at Arbenhaw—and whispered a few choice words under my breath.
Nothing happened at first. I murmured again. The quiet was broken by a long, ominouscreeeak.
