Ambergate (28 page)

I nodded; there was no point in doing anything else.

“Scuff!” For a moment it seemed she could not say anything. She shook her head, as if bemused.

“I thought it might be you,” she said at last, “and when you fetched my wrap, I knew so at once. The way you walked—your boots
are still too large!” Her laugh turned into a sob. She pulled out a lace handkerchief and blew her nose. “I want to know how
you got here—everything—and there is no time!”

“Will you give me away now?” I said in a low voice.

She stared at me in amazement. To my own wonder I saw that tears still stood in her eyes. “Give you away?”

“Don’t tell anyone I’m from Murkmere, I beg you.”

“I see—you’ve come to rescue me!” She looked about wildly in sudden hope, as if expecting a hidden band of heroes to leap
out from nowhere and carry us both to freedom.

I shook my head and her face fell. “I am here quite by accident, Miss Leah,” I said gently. “Or not exactly accident, but…”

“You are here to take news of me back to Aggie? I long to see her, Scuff, I even long to see Murkmere.” She flung her hands
out hopelessly. “Marry Caleb! That’s my fate now.”

“It may not be,” I said quietly. “Don’t despair, Miss Leah. Don’t give in.”

She looked at me with tragic eyes, and a sudden hysterical laugh came from her. “You’ve changed, little Scuff, you know that?
And I never knew you could sing!”

“If you don’t give away that you know me,” I whispered, “I may be able to help you.”

She was startled; she opened her mouth to speak. And then we could say nothing more, for the guards came running in with disgruntled
faces, having searched various apartments for her. Then Nate returned too, unnerved by his
curt ejection from the Lord Protector’s chambers and wondering if Miss Leah might possibly have been mistaken….

Leah came again to our rehearsals.

Nate was flattered but flustered by her visits, and didn’t play his best. He tried to look at her at the same time, and his
fingers fumbled over the ratha strings. His face went very pink; I could see sweat beading his forehead.

Leah sat listening silently, and although we could never talk, our eyes would meet across the polished floor. She looked feverish
sometimes, with a glitter in her dark gray eyes as she tried not to fidget on the velvet chair. I knew she was waiting—hoping—for
some sort of sign from me. She’d no notion of what it was I was planning.

Sometimes I would see the Lord Protector’s son, Caleb, walking through the courtyard, deliberately making the ravens fly up
around his head. Once he brought his musket and fired it at them, laughing like a maniac through the white smoke. He must
have forgotten that ravens signify Death.

Soon you will be my victim
, I thought as the sound echoed around and around outside, striking off the walls and vibrating against our windows,
and I will be a murderess
. But I would have my life, my freedom, back.

I thought of Erland then, and an ache went through me; there was a hopeless longing in my heart as spring turned into summer.

Sometimes I’d see the Chief Interrogation Officer, Mather, and the young bodyguard, Corporal Chance, hurry through
on their way to see the Lord Protector, and I’d have to dodge back so they couldn’t see me.
I am living on borrowed time
, I thought, as each morning I slipped the dagger down between my ankle and the soft kid of my boot.

It grew warmer still. Outside, the fresh green leaves turned dusty, the grass yellowed. I opened the windows wide and the
air that came in was tepid. I often gazed out of the windows when I sang, for by now I knew the words and notes of Nate’s
composition by heart.

And that was how I saw him.

I knew him immediately. He was walking quickly across the paving of the courtyard, the fair, flopping hair on his forehead
lifting as he moved. He wore a black silk cloak that flowed from his shoulders. I must have stopped singing, or gasped perhaps,
for Nate looked up, frowning.

“What ails you, Scuff?”

I felt dizzy. My heart seemed to stop then start again with a great rush of heat.

I clutched the music stand. “Who is that?” I asked weakly, my voice coming from a long way off.

Nate looked over at the window. “He’s called the Messenger. I’ve seen him about in the Palace.”

Erland had almost gone from my sight, around the corner of the building opposite. I found it difficult to breathe. I wanted
to run out after him, but my limbs would not move.

“Why is he here?”

Nate shrugged. “I’ve no notion. What’s your interest in him?” He looked at me curiously.

I pulled myself together. “Nothing,” I faltered. “For a moment he reminded me of someone I knew once.” I put a hand to my
forehead. “It’s very hot in here. Shall we stop for a little while?”

“Of course.” Nate pulled out Leah’s chair at once, and I sat down gratefully. He fussed around me, contrite. “I’m to blame.
I’ve been obsessed with this wretched piece—I’ve worked you too hard.”

I shook my head speechlessly.

“Rest there, I’ll fetch you water.” He went off in a rush, looking worried. He would be thinking of the supper dance so soon—tomorrow—and
of the calamity if his singer were ill.

I wasn’t ill; I was filled with such joy I wanted to dwell on it without distraction.

Erland, here in the Palace! It could only mean that he had been following me all this time, had managed to trace me here without
being discovered himself, would rescue me before I was forced to fulfill my murderous task.

I only had to wait and he would find a way to reach me, I was sure of that.

Erland, my faithful love
.

Late in the afternoon before the supper dance, the chaperone brought in the new clothes I was to wear: a simple silk gown
in soft sage green, high-necked and long-sleeved, as I had requested; a small matching hat covered with tiny rosebuds, swathed
with a veil; cream silk slippers.

She tried to take my old black felt hat from me and sucked her teeth when I would not let her have it. “I’m ashamed to show
my scars,” I said.

She gave me a sharp look. “In my time I’ve seen everything, Miss. I’ve even seen those suffering from the Miasma. The pustules
usually appear in the armpit and groin.”

“I was lucky. Perhaps that’s why I survived.” I sent a quick apology heavenward for my lie.

Later, I dressed alone in my chamber, trembling with anticipation as I pinned my hair up beneath the little hat and pulled
the veil down so it hid my eyes. The dress had been made to my measurements. It was the first to fit me properly; the first
that had not been passed on to me, though I could not call it truly mine. I dropped the amber stone down safe beneath the
bodice.

I gazed at my reflection in the little mirror from my box: my face scarcely visible, mysterious, unfamiliar. Who would guess
that my heart was bursting with hope?

All day I had been waiting for Erland to seek me out. I did not understand by what miracle he was there in the Palace, and
yet I knew it had been him I’d seen. He must have planned my rescue—he must!

“Why aren’t you wearing your new slippers?” asked Nate when he came to fetch me and saw them beneath a chair. He was very
fine himself, in a silk jacket that matched my green dress and with his curls subdued by water.

“They are uncomfortable.” I sent up another prayer.

“My boots don’t show, do they?”

“They are quite hidden. Indeed…,” he added with a gallant effort. “The whole of you looks uncommon pretty.”

“And you look quite the gentleman.”

“You think so?” I could see he meant:
Will Leah think so
? He was in a fidget, his mind elsewhere: on Miss Leah or his music or, possibly, his stomach. His cheeks had a green tinge,
as if he were about to be sick.

“I hate performances,” he hissed to me as we left the apartment and set off down the passage. “What if they don’t like All’s
Right in the Heavens’? It will not please Miss Leah—I’m sure of that—for it is not merry. The Protector won’t like it, for
it’s neither a frippery nor a chorus piece.”

“It has a good melody running through it,” I said, for his face was so glum. “And you are a wonderful musician.”

“You think so?” he said, a little brighter. “I wish Miss Leah thought so.”

“I do, and so will others.”

He looked gloomy again. “We’re only the prelude before the quartet takes over and the dancing begins. They’ll be too busy
drinking and talking to listen to us.”

I prayed they would be, for I wanted to draw as little attention to myself as possible.

The supper dance was to be held in the gardens behind the Protector’s chambers. We had been ordered to be there before the
guests arrived, for Nate was to play his ratha as they progressed along the path beneath rose-covered arches and on to the
main lawn. Later we would perform the song cycle.

My heart was thumping; I forgot all about my task, even about Erland.

“What if my voice dries?” I whispered.

“It won’t.” Nate took my hand. Our palms stuck together: we were each as nervous as the other.

It was a windless evening, warm, with a low sun slanting hazily across the lawns and shimmering through the white linen of
the pavilions erected on the grass; the light caught the gold emblems of the Eagle that decorated the draped entrances and
turned them to fire. Somewhere birds sang, hidden by the thick leaves of summer. The guards, with their grim, intent faces
and dark uniforms, blurred into the shadows between the trees.

Those who were performing the Illustratives were already arranging themselves around the edge of the lawn, and would not move
for several hours. They were to represent significant events from the Divine Book: the Laying of the Great Egg, the Battle
of the Birds, the Great Betrayal, the Anguish, the First Wedding. There was no Illustrative of the avia story, since it is
not included in the accepted scriptures and would have shown little tact on this occasion.

I stared at them, those strange human statues, their bird costumes vivid against the darkening grass, and I saw their eyes
blink. A shiver went through me; I touched the amber stone at my breast and looked around for Nate.

I found him in the supper pavilion, absently wandering between the embroidered screens and the couches plumped with silk cushions.
Around him, fountains sent sprays of
shining drops into the scented air; honeysuckle and pale pink clematis twined up the tent poles.

“We shouldn’t be here,” I whispered. “This is for the guests!”

“We’re better than any of them, Scuff. Anyway, no one’s here yet.” He grabbed a crystal glass, bubbling with a pale yellow
liquid, from under the outraged eye of a footman, and took an enormous gulp. “It’s the best seccer,” he whispered wickedly,
like a naughty child at a grown-ups’ feast. “Try it!”

“I daren’t,” I said, and dragged him away.

There was a murmur of voices along the path behind us, and we separated quickly, Nate to his ratha playing. I had a last glimpse
of his face, greener than ever, as he disappeared beneath the roses. The seccer had been a mistake.

We were to perform on a raised circular stage on the lawn, beneath a delicate, trellised roof covered with white flowers.
A footman had begun to light the tiny lamps that hung from it; already moths flickered around the points of light.

I knew where I was to wait: behind an ivory screen that stood on the grass to one side of the stage. Someone had thoughtfully
arranged some gilt chairs and music stands here, perhaps for the quartet that was to perform after us. I sank down and tried
to breathe calmly.

At first, I could still hear birds singing their evening songs and, very faintly, the plaintive notes of the ratha. I grew
calmer.

Soon after, the voices grew louder; there was laughter, some of it very close to where I sat hidden. After a while I
risked a look through the fretwork border of the screen. The shadows were longer. Twilight had fallen and the colors glowed
against the dark grass: the long shimmering gowns of the ladies, the rich velvet of the gentlemen’s jackets. I was looking
for Erland, but I didn’t expect to see him in this company, for why should he expect to find me here?

And yet he was the first person my eye lit on, walking alone beneath the last rose arch, between the lanterns on the path.

My heart leapt like a fish. He was coming toward the guests on the lawn—toward me.

But then he lingered; he stopped. I saw him bow several times in a most accomplished fashion; he conversed with several people.
His hair was unpowdered, but he wore a blue silk frock-coat that looked very elegant. He walked over to the Lord Protector
and his son, Caleb, and Miss Leah, who were standing together to receive the guests. I could not see their faces for their
backs were to me, but I saw Erland bow to Miss Leah—they did not speak—but then he bowed to the Lord Protector, and the Lord
Protector shook his hand most heartily.

What could it mean? My Erland from the Wasteland on such easy terms with these people?

I sank down on the chair again. I think I put my hands to my face. I was trembling all over.

Shortly after that, Nate came around the screen. “No more time to be nervous, we’re on!” He pulled me to my feet and gave
my hands a squeeze. “Courage, Scuff!”

“I cannot sing,” I whispered.

“The show must always go on. Come, the Protector’s about to announce us.”

Somehow he pushed me up onto the stage, up some little steps at the side. Although the lamps had been lit, no one had yet
noticed us. I was scarce aware of the crowd of guests drinking and talking as if we didn’t exist; their faces were blurred.

Then the Lord Protector stepped up and went to Nate’s side. I stood by a marble pedestal that held an urn of pale pink lilies;
in the dusk, their fragrance was sickly sweet.

The Lord Protector clapped his hands. Instantly, there was silence. Faces turned, eyes fixed on him. Everyone was looking,
now.

I heard the Protector say “… great cause to celebrate… especially composed for this historic occasion… the Protectorate’s
very own Composer and Musician…” The words in between were lost to me.