Page 66 of The Trick of It

They introduced themselves to the Breton mesmerist, a red-haired gentleman with long limbs and a longer face. The aforementioned grandmother and child fortune-tellers were apparently taking repast in their room for this night, after a day of hard travel.

“For the best,” Master Yuri said with a little shiver. “I dislike their matching clothes.”

Merlin entered last, looking a lot more gaunt than Seph had thought him just two nights ago at the priory. He didn’t limp or stumble, but he looked drawn, his skin loose over his bones, and he waved his hand at them in annoyance when the guests all stood to await his seating.

“Enough of that,” he grumbled, easing into the chair at the head of the table. “I’ve limited time left. Let us not waste it on manners.”

The poor footman actually sighed at that, the sound escaping him before he straightened up, his disapproving horror now directed inward. As soon as the staff had rotated in with platters of food, the poor man beat a hasty exit, likely gone off to flagellate himself for his outburst.

“Ah, salmon,” said Rhys. “My favorite. And it’s got the skin on!”

Seph glanced at him, an odd, gooey feeling melting through the center of his chest as he eagerly awaited his serving. He was glowing, she thought. His skin was glowing with health and passion and it was such a stark difference to the dying old man who was hosting them.

“None for me,” Merlin said softly to the serving man. “Just the soup and oats, and a bit of ice, if we have any. The ice does soothe me.”

No one commented upon this. Indeed, everyone appeared suddenly very occupied by their place settings and napkins, rather than looking in the direction of their host.

“We were all very pleased to hear that you had arrived,” Madame Ivanova said to them as a footman poured her wine. She was wearing a garish, red bodice tonight, adorned with piles of crystals and pearls around her throat and in her matching red hair. “Though we all had hoped to take the largest suite from you should you not arrive. You cannot fault the desires of the extraordinary.”

Seph put her own wine to her lips to avoid reacting in any visible way.

“I have never met a married act,” Master Yuri commented, looking curiously over at them across the table. “What is it like?”

Seph’s mouth fell open, a reedy woodwind of a sound hovering in her throat, but she was drowned out by Nini speaking first instead.

“Oh, both of my husbands have performed with me in the circus,” she said airily as the footman served her. “My first was a strongman, which drew quite a crowd, given his size. My second performs acrobatic feats.”

“Le Petit Géant!” the Breton mesmerist exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “I recall him!”

Nini smiled warmly across the table. “Indeed. ‘The Little Giant’ in foreign tongues, but in the English-speaking world, he went by ‘Tom Thumb.’”

Rhys coughed, glancing at Seph so pointedly out of the corner of his eye that she smacked his thigh under the table, making him choke on his own giggle.

“Of course, our Changelings here share an act, which is its own sort of remarkable,” Nini added, giving them a sparkling, pointed look across the table. “But they are only newly wed.”

“Yes, indeed,” Rhys agreed, far more enthusiastic with this lie than Seph would have expected. “My wife is Brighton’s premiere illusionist, you know. I simply bask in her wake.”

“She has a lovely wake,” Master Yuri observed, with a longer gaze at Seph across their plates than she found necessary.

‘My wife.’

She couldn’t examine the way that had shot directly through her bones just now, surrounded by strangers, but it was going to require dissecting later for certain.

It made sense, of course. This lie solved many problems that might have otherwise arisen from their unusual accommodations. Still, she could see very clearly that Merlin himself knew it was a falsehood and that he was enjoying the show immensely.

“Who is performing tonight?” she asked, rather than allow this line of conversation to continue.

“I am,” said Merlin, grinning at her across the table as he twirled a chip of ice between his knobby fingers. “I thought I ought to give if I’m going to take. Tomorrow, the rest of you will commence. I had hoped to rehearse today, but alas, it was a difficult set of hours. Let us hope I still remember my tricks.”

“Will you be watching us rehearse during sunlight hours?” Rhys asked, scooping up a hearty bite of salmon. “Seems like that might ruin the fun, given what you want out of this.”

“No, no, I’d never short myself the full experience,” Merlin assured him, popping the ice chip into his mouth before it could melt any further and giving a little sigh of relief as the coldness embraced his tongue. “My days have become rather tedious, however, so if any of you fancy a game of chess or simply coming to visit me at my bedside with stories of your performances and travels, you are more than welcome. The staff is instructed to allow for this, even if my physician does not strictly approve of it.”

“D’you like puzzles?” Rhys pressed, his bite of salmon hovering midair. “There’s a brilliant little puzzlemaking git over in the Twittens. We have to go into town for props tomorrow, anyhow, so if your hands are still steady, we could get you some toys.”

“Oh, that is true,” Seph agreed, brightening at the idea. “They are wonderful diversions.”

“I will never decline a wonderful diversion,” Merlin told her. “I can promise you that.”