Ambergate (29 page)

And then the slab of his hand landed on my silken shoulder: “… and introducin’ a new young singer to you all, a little maid
who has a big future here in the Palace.”

There was muted applause. The Protector stepped down. Nate sat gingerly on the fragile gilt chair set there for him, and tuned
his ratha.

Time seemed to slow. Faces came into focus through the twilight—Leah’s white and miserable above her dark gray silk, her hair
severely pulled back so that her nose seemed more prominent, her beauty destroyed. I knew she’d done so
deliberately. Caleb Grouted, next to her, drinking too heavily, his handsome face flushed beneath his wig. He threw an arm
around her shoulders, but she flinched away.

And Erland? I did not look for him.

Halfway through the song cycle the guests began talking. Quietly at first, then louder. I saw Nate’s face, and sang my best
for him. The cycle ended; there was some desultory applause, people moved into groups and the talking began again, louder
than ever. Nate slumped over his music stand, and I moved to comfort him.

And then I saw Erland come out of a pavilion, hover on the edge of the lawn, talk to a man whose white wig caught the last
of the dying light.

I will make him notice me
, I thought.

I opened my mouth and the sound came out by itself. I began to sing “I Left My Love by the Amber Gate.”

Nate looked up at me, startled, and then he began to play softly behind my singing, for he had a gift for picking up melodies
when he’d heard them but once. I heard my voice soar, true and sweet, as if it did not belong to me at all, but was a bird,
flying through the air, delighting in its freedom. I did not think about the words, but I know they came out right.

The guests were silenced, utterly silenced. And I saw Erland stop talking to his courtier friend and look over at me.

I waited, but he did not seek me out.

A footman brought us food and drink behind the screen while we heard the orchestra tune up for the dancing, which was to take
place in the largest pavilion. I tried to cheer Nate, but my own heart was heavy, my thoughts churned.

“Be careful what you sing in public, Scuff,” he said unexpectedly, “particularly when you sing for the Lord Protector. The
ballad you sang about the Amber Gate… he might think you know more.”

“But the song’s mere fancy, Nate! I was sung it when I was small.”

“The Protector has searched for the Gate in secret for years—to fill his coffers.” Nate spoke bitterly. “If he thinks you
have been sent to spy on him…” He stared at me, a question in his eyes.

“What are you saying?” I cried. “I am no spy!”
I am an assassin
.

“Hush—hush.” He shook his head, his hair no longer neat but springing back into its curls. “I’m sorry. It is only that you
are so—secretive. You have told me so little.”

Seeing me still disturbed, he added with a wry smile, “At least the ballad made them listen, which was more than my music
did.”

“Miss Leah listened to you, I’m sure of that.”

“You think so?”

Silence fell between us, for I could think of nothing more to say. Beyond us, we could hear muffled farewells as guests
began to leave. We looked through the screen and saw the Lord Protector leave, with his guards, Mather and Chance, slipping
behind, almost invisible in the night in their dark gray uniforms. It was still warm; the temperature had scarcely fallen.

Nate said, “I’m returning to the apartment. Will you come, Scuff?”

“I’ll stay a little,” I said.

He looked anxious, even put out. “You’ll stay without me?”

I felt a spark of anger. “I’ll be safe enough on my own, Nate. Don’t concern yourself. Go.”

He went, but I had no time to feel contrite.
I must find Erland
, I thought,
since he has not found me
.

I stood up and peered again through the fretwork of the screen. The lawn was deserted, even the Illustratives long gone. There
was still music coming from the largest pavilion, where the dancing was taking place; there must be a few guests remaining
in there.

I had no care for my safety; I was determined. I took off my hat and loosened my hair so that it fell down around my shoulders.
Though younger than most, I might be any guest in my elegant green dress.

I set off across the lawn, the sheathed dagger in my boot pressing into my ankle. My silk skirts swished about my legs, hiding
my inappropriate footwear. A cool dampness rose up and touched my skin, and there was the smell of cut grass in my nostrils.

The guard at the entrance to the pavilion inclined his head slightly as I walked in past him.

Then as if by magic I was standing in an enchanted forest where the air was filled with sweet music. Above my head, birds
perched among the blossom; the night sky was lit by a thousand stars. In a clearing amongst the trees, dancers swayed together.

My heart pounded with shock; I clutched my amber. I put my free hand out to a tree trunk for support. And then, slowly, I
realized.

The trees were cunningly made from painted paper and wood; the blossom, from scraps of silk. The starry night sky—so beautiful,
so romantic—was painted canvas, covered with netting that held tiny lanterns. Even the clearing with the dancers had a wooden
floor; beyond it musicians played, hidden in the trees. The birds perched on the branches would never fly; the eyes looking
down on me were sightless.

It made me marvel that one could be so utterly deceived.

There were few guests remaining on the dance floor, and the candles were burning down. In the dimness I could see Caleb slumped
upon a rustic bench beneath a cherry tree, his eyes closed, his wig tipping. I couldn’t tell if he was asleep but he looked
the worse for wear. I looked all about for Erland, but couldn’t see him.

Someone moved close to me. At once I turned, but it wasn’t Erland. It was Mather’s bodyguard, Chance, the boy who had confronted
me in Poorgrass. I’d thought him gone with Mather and the Lord Protector. I gazed at him in alarm, unable to move for terror.

But in that place and in the soft darkness between the trees he couldn’t know who I was. He hadn’t recognized me
in my finery. He stared at my dress, my hair. He looked stupid—or crazed—standing before me without speaking; his features
thick, his mouth half open. He was breathing fast; he smelled of sweat and seccer. He was standing too close; I thought he’d
accost me.

I slid away from his wine-drenched breath, wrinkling my nose; I couldn’t help it.

“Wait,” he said, urgently. “Wait. Will you—would you—dance with me?”

I shook my head for answer, for I dared not speak. I turned my back on him and moved quickly away into the darkest. spot I
could find. When I looked around he was disappearing through the opening in the pavilion and out into the night. I didn’t
move. I waited apprehensively, but he didn’t return.

I would wait a moment longer, then leave myself. Erland wasn’t here.

And then my gaze was drawn to the couple dancing alone on the floor.

They moved with such perfect grace, I drew in my breath.

They were both tall, slender. Their silks shimmered in the candlelight—cloudy pewter and sky-blue—as they curved and leaned
into one another, their fair heads close together, their beautiful faces rapt and intent and strangely similar. They gazed
into each other’s eyes as if no outside force could break their gaze; as if they did not know the outside world existed.

The musicians stopped playing to watch them. Voices trailed away, the few guests remaining stood silent. The only sounds were
the soft click of the dancers’ shoes, the rustle and sweep of the girl’s dress over the floor.

What are you doing, Erland
? I cried in my heart.
You love me, not Leah!

I was forced to watch; I could not drag my eyes away. I felt such pain I thought I would die there and then.

For I saw now that all along fate had intended them for each other, Erland and Leah. It had always been so. They had been
created from the same mold; I had never stood a chance. I would kill Caleb now and then turn the dagger on myself, for my
own life was no longer worth living. Everything I’d hoped for—love itself—was lost.

I turned away from the dance floor. I believe I may have begun to move toward Caleb, still asleep on the bench. Behind me
I was dimly aware that the music had begun again. Someone passed me; people began to talk again.

I felt a touch on my arm. When I looked around it was to see Leah.

“Stay away from me!” I said, drawing back. A cauldron of emotions churned inside me. I looked at her with a hatred that it
was too dark for her to see.

“Keep your voice down,” she whispered. “Come with me, I beg you.”

Would she take me to Erland? Even then, I had some hope left.

I followed her to a darker corner of the pavilion. We were alone, hidden behind a clump of paper bushes.

“We can’t speak long,” she whispered. “The guards will notice.”

“What do you want?” I snarled in my pain. “Have you come to explain?”

“You mean to help me, don’t you?” She seemed taken aback at the expression in my voice. “I wanted to know…”

“Why don’t you ask Erland to help you?” I hissed.

“Erland?”

There was no mistaking her amazement. “I know your Erland too,” I whispered, savage.

“But how…?”

“Has he not spoken of me?” I asked, a pathetic twist of hope inside me.

She shook her head; her hair had slipped down from its binding.

“He is a traitor, a two-timer…,” I began.

She sounded alarmed. “Don’t speak of it…”

“I will speak of it!” I spat out. “He was mine, and is now most surely yours. Look to him for rescue, not me.”

“I can’t ask him. It would be impossible. It would endanger his position…”

“And what of mine? Why should I risk my own life for you?” A desire to hurt her engulfed me. “You’re avian—disgusting, despicable,
cursed.” I spat all the words out with a huge, horrible satisfaction, and I saw her step backward, a pale hand to her throat.

“Scuff? You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t understand.”

“You think because I am a little servant girl, I don’t understand.
You think Erland understands? Does he know what you are, Miss Leah?” It was surely not me, saying this with such ferocity?

She came toward me and laid a hand on my sleeve. Her eyes, shining in the dim light, were huge and dark. “Please, Scuff, say
nothing. Not for my sake—for Erland’s. Don’t betray him. Say nothing of his other life, whatever you do.”

“He will betray you in turn,” I whipped out. “Why is he here amongst these grand folk? They are corrupt, and so is he. Watch
him, Miss Leah.”

She drew herself up. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You understand nothing. Whatever Erland may have meant to
you once, you must forget it, here of all places. Don’t you see the danger you could put him in?” She stared at me, then added
as a muttered afterthought, “He is too old for you, anyway.”

“Then you are welcome to him,” I said furiously. “You both deserve each other.” I flung away from her, but she came after
me.

“Scuff, don’t go, please understand. I’ve known Erland for such a short time and there’s no future for us—everything is hopeless,
for I must marry Caleb. I know you cannot help me now, you would not want to.” She paused; her voice shook. “I give Erland
back to you, Scuff, whatever I’ve taken. He is free for you.”

“But he does not want me now,” I flung at her. “Not now he has set eyes on you! If I’d stayed longer in the Wasteland, it
would have been me!”

It gave me a hollow satisfaction to see her start as I
mentioned the Wasteland. She recovered, spread her hands. “I didn’t know you loved him too.” She lowered her voice even further.
“I know so little of his past—it’s scarcely ever safe to talk. Tell me—how did you meet? How does he live—in the Wasteland?”

He called me Silky
.

I couldn’t speak.

She hesitated, uncertain. “There’s nothing to cry for, Scuff, please stop.”

But then I stumbled away from her, from the pavilion; ran from the black lawns and the impassive guards; from Erland himself
wherever he was, the coward and the cheat.

Some of the lanterns had burned themselves out. I blundered along the dark path; the white roses either side of me glimmered
like ghost flowers. I had shed only one tear, one little tear for myself, and that had quickly dried. I burned with anger.

A guard with an oil lamp loomed in front of me. “Where are you going, Miss?”

My anger died as if dowsed with cold water and was replaced by fear. I hesitated; for a moment I did not know. I was nothing—nobody—with
nowhere to go. Then I stammered, “M-my chamber, outside the Boy Musician’s apartment.”

“Let me escort you, Miss. You’ll be questioned if you walk alone in the Palace.”

I would not have known my way back through the silent courtyards with their darkened buildings. The yellow glow of another
lamp approached us. It was a second guard, who said curtly to my companion, “Who is she? Has she been verified?”

“I’m the girl who sang at the supper dance, Sir,” I managed to say. The second guard looked surprised.

“Have you not heard, Miss? The young master’s asked for you. He’s put word about that you’re to be found and brought to him.”

My heart gave a sudden leap from its pit of despond. “The young master?”

“Master Caleb, the Lord Protector’s son, no less. We’ll take you to him without delay. He’s in his mother’s room.”

The guard with me gave a muffled snigger. “Ever his mama’s boy,” he whispered to the second, who gave a warning jerk of his
head toward me.

I could not think why the Lord Protector’s son should want to see me. And I was still bareheaded, without the disguise of
my hat and veil that Titus Molde had told me to keep on at all times.

I was in such a state of anxiety by the time we reached Caleb Grouted’s apartment that I could scarcely walk. We passed his
personal guards and entered a series of fine paneled reception rooms, where lamps still burned and gold-framed portraits of
Protectors from another, gentler, age were hung upon the walls. The two guards with me led me to a door that stood slightly
ajar, in a lighted passage.