Mirror Sight (37 page)

It was also possible that strenuous refusals—whether from her or on her behalf—would only rouse the doctor’s suspicions further. When it came down to it, making him angry seemed more dangerous than revealing her face. As for Mr. Hadley? Well, he was nowhere in sight, and in any case, the professor could handle him.

She glanced at the wooden box with the lens. On a whole other level, she couldn’t help but be curious about this image-trapping business, and she wondered what her portrait might look like. “You promise not to show my image to any other?” she asked Stamwell. Not that she would wholeheartedly believe any such promise, but she had to keep up pretenses.

“As you wish, Miss Goodgrave,” he said and bowed.

“Very well, I will allow it.”

“But Miss Goodgrave—” Cade began.

“I have made up my mind, Mr. Harlowe.”

His expression turned stony, but he did not argue further.

“I am delighted,” Dr. Silk said with an air of victory. “You will not be disappointed.”

“Miss Goodgrave, please be seated,” Stamwell said.

“Will I feel anything?” Karigan asked.

“No, nothing at all. Now, if you would be so kind as to remove your veil.”

“Just a moment,” Cade said. “Dr. Silk?”

Dr. Silk raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“As Miss Goodgrave is about to remove her veil, I ask, as her chaperone, entrusted by her uncle, that you please step outside.”

Anger flickered across Dr. Silk’s face, and then it was gone. He was clearly unused to being told what to do, but he did not protest. He simply bowed and slipped out between the curtains. The fact that he did not argue indicated to Karigan that he intended to see the portrait later.

She sat through the process as Cade had, wondering if Yates were nearby. Perhaps she was sitting on him? Would she know? Not a reassuring thought. Although she must remain still for only half a minute, her nose tickled, and it was difficult to resist rubbing it or shifting her position. The neck brace kept her from moving her head, which just made her want to move it more. She could have sworn she felt a cold touch on her shoulder—Yates? These, however, were the only discomforts she experienced. She did not feel any of her essence being drawn out to be trapped in Stamwell’s box. She felt nothing at all, just as he promised. When it was done, Stamwell assured them he’d have the portraits prepared for them before their departure.

They thanked him, and before leaving the curtained area Karigan once more dropped her veil over her face. Outside, Dr. Silk was nowhere to be seen. The clamor of the music steamer faded away, and its absence left behind a deafening silence. On a high daïs in the center of the ring, a brawny man in balloon trousers and a feathered headdress swung a mallet against a gong. The chatter of guests died away as the tone of the gong reverberated throughout the big top. The ringmaster mounted the daïs and shouted in his well-practiced voice through a speaking horn, “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served!”

Karigan saw no food, no tables, no chairs. Where were they supposed to dine if not here in the big top? But then tables did appear. They trundled in through the main entrance, covered with white cloths and all set with plates and silver. That was to say, she saw them trundle in by themselves, rolling in on iron wheels under their own power, and without anyone to guide them.

A
murmur arose among the guests. Even they, the people of this time, were surprised and astonished by this display of apparently autonomous tables.
Click-clack-click-clack.
They kept rolling in until they arranged themselves into two straight lines across the ring. When they halted, servants swooped in with chairs and helped seat guests. No few of them peeked under the tablecloths to discover the secret of the tables.

“How’d they do that?” Karigan whispered to Cade as they were seated.

“I’m not sure,” Cade said, his forehead creased, but others were murmuring about etherea and etherea engines.

She peeked under the tablecloth but saw nothing more than the undercarriage and wheels.

“Etherea,” she muttered. But magic was dead here, wasn’t it?

“A tremendous waste of it,” Cade whispered. “Just to impress us lowly citizens of Mill City.”

If etherea, the natural element that allowed magic to occur, had powered the tables, why hadn’t she been able to touch it with her brooch? Could it be isolated, contained so it did not spread out into the environment?

Without her brooch, she could not test it. Etherea was invisible, inaudible, without odor or taste. Perhaps those in the past who were more magically gifted, such as Great Mages, could sense etherea, but there had been no one that strong for centuries, probably not since the Long War.

“Silk is showing off his wealth and power by using etherea frivolously,” Cade muttered. “As if the rest of this is not enough.” He gestured to take in the whole of the big top.

The wonder of the tables appeared to wear off among the guests as servants brought out steaming platters, but Karigan thought she heard their table chuff. Maybe she was hearing things, but the sound, subtle as it was, seemed to come from beneath the table, and it hadn’t sounded mechanical. The table then quivered, causing water, jellies, and sauces to ripple, and dinnerware to clatter. The other guests chattered on as if nothing was amiss, but Karigan couldn’t help but glance under the table again. She didn’t see anything she hadn’t seen before. Was it . . . alive? Surely not. It did not move again or make any noises.

A string quartet started playing, not quite filling the void of sound left behind by the music steamer, but far more pleasant. Still, the whiney sawing of the strings grated on her nerves.

The chair to her left remained unoccupied, even as the first course, bowls of clawfish bisque, were placed before the guests. She wondered how she was supposed to eat it from beneath her veil. She’d never eaten while veiled in the professor’s house. The women of the Capital with their stylishly short veils had no problem, but the women of Mill City only seemed to pretend to eat, dipping their spoons into the bisque, stirring it a little, but never attempting to bring it under their veils to their lips.

It smelled wonderful, and Cade slurped his beside her. Karigan considered trying to actually eat some. If she broke some code of acceptable behavior, the proper people could always put it down to her not knowing better after her stint in the asylum. But she did not wish to draw attention to herself. She sighed, dipped her spoon, and stirred.

Shortly after the servants collected the bisque bowls, Dr. Silk reappeared and seated himself beside her. She frowned and sensed Cade straightening in his chair. A quick glance revealed a tightening of his features. Even the table creaked subtly as though its wood was contracting.

“Seems I missed the opening course,” Dr. Silk said cheerfully. He snapped out a napkin and let it float to his lap. “How was it?”

Karigan wished she knew. But as it turned out, she didn’t have to supply an answer. A man with a gold-rimmed monocle across the table said, “Delicious bisque. Positively delightful.”

The servants brought out a meat course next. The men sawed into the beef and conversed gregariously. The short-veiled women were more delicate, cutting tiny pieces to eat, chatting animatedly with their neighbors. The long-veiled women cut dainty pieces, too, and arranged them around their plates, but none of it made it beneath their veils to their mouths.

Of all the idiotic things,
Karigan fumed, her stomach growling at all the tantalizing scents. She was going to have to ask for something from the kitchen when she got home, and when she did, there wouldn’t be any of this useless
picking.

She tried listening to the conversations going on around her, but they were unrevealing unless she wanted to know about a dear uncle’s gout or the “tiresome habits” of servants. The wise, she guessed, did not discuss sabotage and the rounding up of a hundred men for questioning at a dinner party hosted by one of the very Preferred of the emperor, especially when he was within earshot.

“I trust you are finding the evening entertaining?” Dr. Silk asked.

“Um, yes,” she said quickly to cover the rumble of her belly.

Dr. Silk smiled and focused on his meal. Sitting beside him, she could study his profile. She could almost see behind the lenses of his specs, and she tried to, surreptitiously, without seeming to stare. She could not see his eyes, but his eyelashes were white.

Odd,
she thought. There might be silver and gray in his hair but no white.

He caught her gazing at him, and she turned away, pretending to eat.

“Tell me, Miss Goodgrave, what do you do to amuse yourself in your uncle’s house?” he asked.

Another seemingly innocuous question. Was he testing her again? “Oh, the usual things,” she replied airily. “I’ve been given a few books to read, and I visit Raven.”

“Ah, that troublesome horse, but I am actually grateful to him since it was he who allowed us to meet. Very fortuitous, don’t you think? How else do you use your time?”

Karigan stared at the untouched meat on her plate. “The use of my time would not interest a gentleman.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Everything about you interests me, my dear.”

Was it politeness, or too intense a regard? She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Cade’s expression had gone all stony again. Dr. Silk appeared older than her father. She had to remind herself that he was not so much expressing admiration for her as digging for information.

“Tell me—” he began, but he was interrupted by a man on his other side. He made a barely perceptible noise of annoyance but turned to the man and engaged in conversation. Karigan nearly wilted in relief to have his attention directed elsewhere.

A fish course came and as a bread basket was offered to her, she could not help herself. She snatched a still warm, doughy roll, tore it in half and slathered it with butter. She broke it into smaller pieces, slipped them up under her veil, and popped them into her mouth.

The titter of laughter drifted from across the table. Two short-veiled women of the Capital seemed to be watching her and laughing. With the music and noise of other conversations swirling around she caught only a few of the words they shared with one another:
bumpkin, unstylish,
and
insane.

Let them laugh and talk about me,
Karigan thought. Having Dr. Silk sitting next to her probably had aroused their attention even more than her “background.” She didn’t care one way or the other. She was starving, so when chocolate truffles were presented to her, she was not bashful. At first the Mill City women shook their heads in disapproval, their long veils swaying, but then a few decided to follow her example and actually ate the truffles, not just moved them around on their plates. Karigan smiled. Was it a groundswell of insurrection she’d just started? Probably not, but at least a few of these women got to enjoy chocolate this evening.

Dr. Silk showed no particular concern at her small rebellion. Either he had not noticed, or he accepted it as one of her mad eccentricities.

“You were going to tell me how you spend your days,” he said to her.

Taken off guard, she almost swallowed a truffle whole. Trying not to choke, she turned the question back at him. “How do you spend
your
days, Dr. Silk?”

He smiled, like a cat pleased to be playing with a mouse. “The use of my time would not interest a lady.”

Fair turnabout,
she thought.

Dr. Silk laughed softly in delight. “Now now, my dear. I simply tease. My days are fully occupied by work on my latest project. Except for tonight, of course.”

“What is your project?”

“Unearthing old things, just like your uncle.”

“Surely you’re not digging up just forks and spoons.”

“Indeed, not.” But he offered no more. It appeared they were at something of an impasse. He sipped his wine and then asked, “What do you hear of your parents? You are so very far away from them.”

Cade tensed beside her, a truffle poised halfway to his mouth. The professor had supplied her with an extensive false background filled with enough details for a book. Even with her good memory, it was impossible to memorize the names of all her supposed relations, where they lived, where her false father had been schooled and where he worked as an overseer at a large imperial farm. Perhaps, she thought, simplicity would be the better approach. She’d be less likely to make a mistake, and she could shut down Dr. Silk’s line of questioning at the same time.

Dr. Silk waited, just as Cade waited, for her response.

“I do not wish to think of them,” she said finally. “They put me in an asylum. My uncle is now my guardian.”

Dr. Silk remained quiet. Karigan stared at her hands folded on the table. Cade popped his truffle into his mouth and chewed mechanically.

“Please accept my apology,” Dr. Silk said at last, “for broaching an obviously difficult topic. I did not wish to distress you.”

Karigan doubted he was at all apologetic, but she nodded in acceptance.

Before they could continue the awkward conversation, a note chimed from somewhere on Dr. Silk’s person. He pulled a chronosphere from his waistcoat pocket. Karigan was not the only one who stared in curiosity as he opened the device and a tiny mechanical hummingbird picked out the time.

After a mere glance he snapped it shut and announced, “Now you must forgive me once again as I must leave your side, with much regret, to attend to more entertainments.” He stood and bowed deeply to her and left. She felt, more than saw, the table sag as though it was relieved Dr. Silk had departed. If so, she could relate—Dr. Silk’s presence had left her as exhausted as a long, hard run.

Cade leaned toward her. “You did well,” he whispered.

Glasses of wine were refilled, plates removed and replaced with fruit and cheese plates. She was pleased. Fruit and cheese she could nibble on without making a mess. Some of the long-veiled women once again followed her example. She’d start a revolution yet.

They did not see Dr. Silk again until the eating and drinking waned. He mounted the daïs at center ring. Quickly, conversation diminished.

“I trust everyone enjoyed their dinner?” There were affirmative responses, few of them female, and Dr. Silk beamed. “I will ask now that you turn your chairs toward me, ensuring your legs do not impede the movement of the tables as they leave.”

Karigan could not help but lightly pat the table top. Was it her imagination, or did the wood hum with a purr? It was overridden by the mechanisms creaking as the tables were set in motion with no visible person or method of control in view. Most of them moved at a sedate pace toward the big top entrance, but her own raced away, scattering crockery and silver overboard and crashing onto the floor, its tablecloth whipping behind it. Guests and servants alike peeled out of its way. One man who was not fast enough screamed as one of the wheels ran over his foot.

Good heavens,
Karigan thought as she watched after her unruly table, but it made it out of the big top without further casualties.

Beside her, Cade sat with his arms crossed and a scowl plastered on his face, probably displeased once more by the frivolous use of etherea. She elbowed him.

“What was that for?” he demanded.

“You are radiating your disapproval,” she quietly scolded.

He shifted in his chair, his expression struggling toward neutrality.

“I’ve a few more surprises for you tonight,” Dr. Silk announced, “entertainments I’m sure you won’t soon forget.” He gestured and six men in white face rolled out a stone sarcophagus, balanced on a hand wagon, and placed it in front of the daïs.

Karigan groaned.

“From within the Capital, I bring you a box of mysteries, the sarcophagus of a prominent person who lived long ago.”

Karigan tensed. The Capital, she remembered, was essentially her home province of L’Petrie. She was too far away to make out the glyphs carved in the stone of the sarcophagus.

“What treasures were buried with this man?” Dr. Silk asked. “He was, after all, an affluent merchant of Corsa.”

Karigan stiffened even more and, as Dr. Silk took a dramatic pause, her fear grew with the pairing of the words “merchant” and “Corsa.”

“Open it!” some of the guests called out. “Let us see!”

“You want to know what has lain asleep for so long?” Dr. Silk’s question was followed by choruses of, “Yes! Open it now!”