Shadowplay (14 page)

The cat, Ricket, stretched and padded his way over to investigate the new intruder. Lily crouched under the table to say hello. We perched around the table. Lily and Maske flirted with each other. Cyan hid a smile behind her hand.

Lily chatted away, her mind jumping from topic to topic with a speed I could not follow. Soon, I gave up and just watched in amazement as she kept on.

After drinking three cups of tea, Lily begged to use “the facilities” before making her way back home. I escorted her to the washroom, not wanting her curiosity to lead her down darkened hallways. As I waited for her, I rubbed my temples. Maybe Drystan was right, and small doses of Lily Verre were more than enough.

“This place is a treasure trove!” she exclaimed as we walked back to the kitchen. “Well and truly. My offer to help make it presentable still stands. I mean it,” she said, taking my hand in hers.

“We’ll definitely keep you in mind.” I disengaged my hand. The thought of an entire afternoon with her made my temples throb anew.

She bid her farewells, giving each of us kisses on both cheeks. Her lips lingered on Maske’s, and his face split into an inane grin. Before Lily, I had a feeling it had been many years since a woman kissed him.

“What a marvelous woman,” Maske said, more to himself than us. “Extraordinary. Such vivacity!” He shook his head in amazement.

Drystan, Cyan, and I all exchanged smiles.

“Well, that’s quite enough of that,” Maske said, briskly. “Let’s to our lessons.”

 

It was dark inside the spirit cabinet.

The bonds chafed my wrists and brought back memories of Bil leaning over me, the sharp smell of whisky on his breath, the pain as I dislocated my thumbs to break free. My breath came faster.

“Are you ready?” Maske called.

“Almost!” Drystan said. “Are you alright?” he whispered close to my ear.

“I’ve remembered I don’t like being tied up overmuch.”

“Ah.”

Inhale. Exhale. I forced my breath to slow.

“It’s fine,” he whispered. “Remember. You can escape these bonds at any time.” His lips rested against my forehead, light as a sparrow’s wing. He leaned away from me, though our shoulders still touched. The dim light fell on the eyelashes resting against the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose and the curl of his lips.

Inhale. Exhale.

“Ready!” Drystan called.

“On my count,” Maske said. “One, two, three!”

In a thrice, we were free from our bonds. Drystan dropped through the trapdoor at the bottom and I slipped behind the hidden mirrors.

I heard the door open.

“As you can see,” Maske said to our audience of one, Cyan, “the magicians have disappeared into the ether in the blink of an eye, the magic too much for their veins.”

The door slammed shut. I counted in my head as Maske continued his patter, describing how magic was all around us and all we had to do was know how to tap into its hidden power.

When I counted to twenty, I slipped back into the darkened spirit cabinet, looping my bonds loosely about my neck.

The door opened.

I stepped calmly onto the stage, the ropes slithering from my neck and onto the stage like snakes. Cyan clapped.

“Two have freed themselves and one has gone. Or has he?” Maske gestured to the empty audience. Drystan emerged onto the balcony, unruffled, the bonds about his neck.

Cyan jumped from her seat and laughed in delight, clapping even louder. We had kept this trick from her as a surprise.

“Marvelous! Is it the finale?” she asked.

“Oh, no, no, my dear.” He took her hand and led her onto the stage. “This is practice. You, Cyan, are the finale.”

She cocked her head. “Me?”

“I have designed a trick that shall be magnificent,” he said. “It will take a lot of work to get it right, but if we succeed, we will be the talk of Imachara.”

Drystan and I had already been the talk of Imachara. Again, I wondered why I was so intent on learning magic, despite how dangerous it could be. But even still, I wanted to learn, to perform. And it’d only take one sell-out performance to give us enough money to leave Ellada behind. Though the more time passed, the less I wanted to leave.

Maske continued. “It’ll take perfect timing. There can be no room for error, for if there is, it could be dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Cyan echoed.

“Have you seen the old pantomimes performed?”

I starred in one as a girl
, I thought.
With Drystan as my true love.
I could still recite all of the lines without hesitation.

“They are fond of characters coming up through trap doors,” Maske continued. “They call it a star trap.

“A star trap is dangerous, however. It’s very quick. If you’re not aligned just so, then you could injure yourself terribly,” he said. “So we will have to be careful. And we will have to trust ourselves and each other to perform.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, my eyes darting to Cyan. Nice a girl as she was, I had dozens of doubts about her. Nearly a month with her and we had learned almost nothing, although we hadn’t asked many questions, fearing questions in return. She also hadn’t turned us in.

“Are you sure it’s not too dangerous?” I ventured. “We are still amateurs, after all.”

Maske waved away my fears. “I’ll only be showing you the basics for now. But you will master it, and it will be a show to remember.” He radiated a quiet joy at this. When he was teaching us about magic and illusion, he stood straighter and his voice boomed. On stage was when he came alive.

Maske disappeared backstage and bought out a cylinder of fabric held apart by metal hoops, the sleeves fashioned as crude, feathered wings.

“What… is that?” I asked. The strange contraption was made out of old, threadbare sheets.

“It’s a prototype,” he said, defensive. “Now, Sam and Amon, shift the cabinet, will you?”

We obliged, the wheeled cabinet sliding away from the hidden trapdoor.

“Cyan, you stand over the trapdoor, please?”

She shuffled over, her brow crinkled. Maske slid the frame over her body, forming a decidedly odd dress.

Maske looked her over. “I’ll make adjustments to the shape, never fear.”

Cyan slid her arms into the winged sleeves. She held them out to her sides, stiffly.

Maske circled her. “I’m not sure what type of wings to make them in the end. Feathers? Bat wings? Gossamer won’t do – too transparent. No matter, no matter. Plenty of time for that later.” He moved the fabric from side to side, making notes in a small book. He licked his finger, flipping through pages of intricate diagrams and cramped writing.

Drystan and I watched, transfixed, as Maske continued his lone diatribe. Cyan gave us a helpless look as Maske muttered about necklines and angles. I found myself stifling a grin.

“Alright. Put your wings in front of your face like so,” he instructed, helping her move her arms. “Now, there’re two small hooks at the end of the cuffs. Fasten them together and then take your arms out of the sleeves and stand with them close to your sides.”

She must have done so, for he said, “Good”. But it looked as though her arms were still in front of her face.

“Sam or Amon will be under the stage and will catch you, and you will the vanishing girl.”

“What about the dress?” I asked.

“I won’t ruin the final reveal just yet,” he said. “But it will vanish in a way you’d never expect.” He muttered to himself again.

“Can I come out now?” Cyan asked from inside the wire and cloth.

“Certainly, my dear, certainly. Thank you for your help.”

Cyan wriggled from under the dress, dusting off her robe. She had several Elladan dresses, but far preferred Temnian tunics. They did not require corsets, and well did I know how uncomfortable those could be.

Cyan fiddled with the end of her silken sash. “Mister Maske? Would it be possible to have the rest of the day as leave? I left my parents in a rush, and there are some loose ends I must tie up.” Her eyes darted to the floor. But Maske told us she’d run away from her parents. Would she go back so easily?

 “No bother at all. I’ve much to do in the workshop. Sam and Amon, you can either choose to study history or you can take the afternoon off as well. You’ve done well today.” He amended the diagram of the vanishing lady before leaving us to return to his workshop.

“He’s certainly driven, isn’t he?” Cyan asked once Maske left. She shook her head. “He’s been like that as far back as I can remember.”

“He is at that,” I agreed.

“Such a shame he was banned from magic. My mother said he was the best magician that ever lived.” She chewed her lip. “The duel with Taliesin seems silly to me. What is it with men holding such grudges?”

Drystan snorted. “I don’t think such stupidity is only limited to men.”

Cyan waved her hand. “In this case, I do not think women would carry such hatred for so long. Honestly, Maske and Taliesin should have just whipped them out and discovered once and for all whose was the longest.”

Drystan laughed outright at this, and my eyes bulged.

“They were fighting over a woman who sampled the both of them. That would have solved it, with much less bother,” she said, her eyes merry.

I glanced around. “Don’t you ever let Maske hear you say something like that.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“No, I don’t believe you are.”

Her merriment faded. “Besides, evidently Maske was quite the ladies’ man back at the height of his power. Taliesin couldn’t have been all that surprised.”

I remembered his blushes with Lily. “He still appears to have the touch with the ladies, but he doesn’t seem a womanizer.”

“Fifteen years is a long time,” she said, staring into the distance. “In any case, I must be getting on.” She rubbed a hand on the back of her neck.

“Are you going back to visit the circus?” I asked lightly.

“Just for a little while. Will be good to see them.” She smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“We’ll see you for tea then?” I asked.

“Of course. See you soon,” she said before hurrying away.

“It’s your turn to keep watch for the Shadow,” I whispered once she left.

“Yes.”

“I’ll follow Cyan,” I said.

Drystan nodded.

 

Cyan did not, in fact, go to Riley & Batheo’s Circus of Curiosities.

Cyan went to her room before leaving. I changed as quickly as I could into the spare dress in my pack, wrapping my head in an old rag. I filled a basket with laundry, which I rested against my hip as I followed Cyan at a discreet distance.

She headed to the Penny Rookeries, the worst part of town. I was worried to even follow her there. Dressed as a woman, I felt vulnerable. Men leered at me with smiles with more gaps than teeth. A man clutched at my skirt and asked how much for a “quick wash”, but left me alone when I kicked at him and growled in my best Rookeries accent: “more n’ye can afford, awa’ wi ye.” He cackled as I wandered down the street.

The skirts were strange and heavy against my legs. I feared my jawline was now too strong for a dainty woman’s, and I had down on my cheeks, which I shaved. My lips were still feminine. I ran a hand over them.

Cyan’s plait thumped against her back as she walked. My hair had been that long once, before my brother chopped it off with scissors in the middle of the night when I ran away. The night I learned my parents were going to have me cut.

Even if Cyan dressed like a boy, with her heart-shaped face, small nose and rosebud of a mouth, she could only be a woman.

She swept down a side street. I liked her, with her quick wit and open laugh, but now I was certain that she was going to meet the Shadow. What would I do if she was? I had no weapon with me, and in any case I did not think I could harm anyone. Not after that night with Bil. Not after what I did to our pursuers the night of the Penglass.

All I could do was to follow, wait, and listen. And then I would have to race home, and Drystan and I would most likely have to run again and hope that Maske did not get into trouble for harboring known fugitives.

I thought of how crushed Maske would be if we left, if he never got to see us perform his magic in front of a crowd again. How once we did perform, we might leave Ellada as soon as we had enough money to escape. It would break his heart. I could kick myself for being such a fool.

Cyan stopped in front of a crumbling tenement. Many years ago, it had been a fine townhouse, like all of the houses in the Penny Rookeries. But bit by bit the neighborhood had been overtaken by the poorest dregs of Imacharan society. I paused as Cyan knocked on the door.

Had Drystan stayed in a place like this? Perhaps he had once knocked on a peeling door, entered a murky doorway, gone down the rickety steps into a smoke-filled room, with a circle of hard men holding well-thumbed cards, a pile of money on the table.

A man emerged from the crumbling house, distracting me from my thoughts. He nodded to her and they made their way down the road. He walked with the loping gait of a sailor, looking behind him several times, as if worried that someone followed them. Each time I pretended to search my washing basket. I did not want this man, whoever he was, to know my face.

They meandered through the streets until they reached the beach. My heart flipped in my chest as they made their way along the promenade. My traitorous feet stopped just short of the wooden planking of the pier. I did not wish to follow them farther; round the next bend, and see where I had spent several months camped out on the beach, living my old life in the circus. Down there was where I had kissed Aenea. Where I had flown on the trapeze, eaten candy floss and swigged beer at the bonfires, brought water for Saitha the elephant and scrubbed her rough skin. Down on that beach was where I had found myself and lost myself all over again.