The Republic of Thieves (84 page)

Donker pointed to them and pumped his fist in the air triumphantly. Then he faced the box of Baroness Ezrintaim, extended both arms toward her, and bowed from the waist, all without removing his
phantasma
mask.

Then, just as Locke had directed, he turned and trotted back to the attiring room. As the rest of the company took a final bow together, most of the crowd seemed amused or at least bemused by what had just transpired, and then the noisy jostling for the exits began in earnest. Musicians started playing again. The company left the stage, hounded only by a few lingering drunks and those loudly begging kisses, particularly from Chantal, Sabetha, and Alondo.

Locke pushed past the bit players within the attiring chamber and cast off his wire crown. Jean held up a hand and nodded again, and a wave of relief made Locke’s knees nearly turn to water. Sabetha saw it too, and clutched Locke’s arm.

Donker’s instructions had been to hurry into the attiring chamber and, during the brief moments the bit players remained onstage, take a running leap into the prop wagon and be concealed under a sheet by Jean. Locke knew it was tempting fate to expect Donker to lie quietly in sweltering darkness just above a corpse, but there was nothing else for it. “Boulidazi” had to vanish like a passing breeze, as Donker couldn’t unmask or even utter a single syllable without breaking the fragile illusion. Jean had been fully prepared to bash him on the head if he balked.

“Where has the baron gone?” said one of the bit players.

“My lord’s friends were waiting to collect him,” said Jean. “You can imagine how busy the baron must be tonight.”

“Now for the envoy of ceremonies,” whispered Locke to Sabetha. “Quickly, before the wait annoys her.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I think it’s our best chance.” He outlined his plan, and she smiled.

“It’s no dumber than anything else we’ve done today!”

The attiring chamber was thick with relieved and sweaty bit players, all collecting robes and masks and props under Jenora’s demanding direction. There was no time for leisure; the bit players had to be paid off for their work and sent away without the usual camaraderie and drinking. The company’s goods had to be packed and rolling toward the rendezvous with Nerissa Malloria before Malloria herself decamped from the Old Pearl. That was everyone else’s business, though. Locke and Sabetha swiftly shed their costume weapons (it was unlawful for them to display such things offstage) and dashed for the courtyard.

Out into the sunlight again, past the dregs of the escaping groundlings, through the detritus of fruit peels and spilled beer, they ran up the stairs to the balcony sections and nearly collided with a pair of guards outside the Baroness Ezrintaim’s box.

“We request an audience with the lady Ezrintaim,” said Locke, holding up the signet ring they’d taken from Boulidazi the night before. “We come urgently, on behalf of the Baron Boulidazi.”

“The lady will not receive players in her private box,” said one of the guards. “You must—”

“None of that,” came the voice of the envoy of ceremonies. “Admit them, and see that we have privacy.”

Locke and Sabetha were allowed onto the balcony, where they found Ezrintaim at the rail, looking down at the stage and the drudges (paid for by Moncraine) sweeping the courtyard. The baroness turned, and the two Camorri bowed more deeply than required.

“Well,” said Ezrintaim, “your noble patron does come and go rather as he pleases, doesn’t he? This is the second time I’ve expected him and met part of his troupe instead.”

“My lord Boulidazi sends his most earnest and abject apologies, my lady, that he cannot visit you as you required,” said Locke. “Leaving the stage just now, he stumbled and injured his ankle. Very badly. He cannot stand at the moment, let alone climb stairs. He placed his
signet in our hands as his messengers, and bid us offer it if you wished to verify—”

“My, my. The Baron Boulidazi is less than careful in his habits. Do put that down, boy, I’ve no need to bite the baron’s ring. I’ve seen it before. Is your lord still here?”

“Some of his friends insisted he be taken to a physiker immediately, my lady, and without causing a scene,” said Sabetha. “My lord was in considerable pain and may not have adequately resisted their blandishments.”

“Refusing temptation isn’t Lord Boulidazi’s particular strength,” said Ezrintaim, staring at Sabetha more intently than Locke would have liked. “But if he’s done himself an injury I won’t begrudge his friends using their brains for once.”

“He, ah, that is,
my lord
hopes that you will consent to be his guest at any convenient time following tomorrow’s performance,” said Locke. This was a risky ploy if Lady Ezrintaim had any reason to find the offer insulting, but if it helped strengthen the impression that Boulidazi was presently alive and planning an active social calendar, it meant everything to their deception.

“I see.” Ezrintaim steepled her fingers before her chest. “Well, it would be convenient, and the sooner the better. I expect you two will also be in attendance.”

“My lady,” said Locke, “we would appear if so commanded, but we are only players in my lord Boulidazi’s company, and I don’t see—”

“Lucaza,” said the baroness, “I should perhaps disabuse you of the notion that I am unaware of Lord Boulidazi’s intentions toward your cousin Verena.”

“I, uh—” Locke felt much as he would have if Ezrintaim had adopted a
chausson
fighting stance and kicked him in the head.

“You know what we really are!” said Sabetha in smooth Throne Therin, saving Locke from another useless sputter.

“Countess Antonia relies on me to be something of a social arbiter as well as her envoy of ceremonies,” said Ezrintaim in the same tongue. “Gennaro is an eligible young peer of Espara who has lost the close guidance of his elders. I prevailed upon several members of his household staff to report on his behavior. Gennaro is, let us say, rather forthright with them concerning his desires.”

“Does our presence in Espara cause you difficulty, my lady?” said Locke, trying to force himself to be as collected as Sabetha was.

“You’ve been reasonably discreet, though I will say that none of you have considered the needs of the larger world around you.” She fixed her gaze on Sabetha. “I don’t necessarily believe it would do any harm to Espara to strengthen its ties with Camorr through a marriage. If, of course, that ever was your genuine intention.”

“I haven’t misled Gennaro,” said Sabetha forcefully. “He is … overbearing and presumptuous, but in all other respects he is quite acceptable. And we share a significant interest in several arts.”

“Did your family instruct you to freely choose a future husband during your sojourn in Espara, Verena? I’d find it very strange if they did. I think you’ve allowed yourself to forget that you are your family’s to dispose of. My sources haven’t reported which family that is, but I require this much honesty: Are you a member of a Five Towers clan?”

Sabetha nodded.

“Then you know very well that you serve a duke who may require your marriage elsewhere for political reasons! Even if he doesn’t, you will still require Nicovante’s permission to wed, much as Gennaro will need Countess Antonia’s.” Ezrintaim rubbed her forehead and sighed. “Should you ever feel any resentment that I have looked into the affairs of Lord Boulidazi’s household, please do remember that I am
specifically
empowered to avoid thoughtless entanglements like the one you two and Gennaro would have concocted for all of us.”

“We didn’t mean to leap into it instantly,” said Sabetha. “We meant to take several years.”

“There, at least, you show a grain of wisdom,” said Ezrintaim. “But patient arrangements are quickly set aside when a woman’s stomach swells.”

“I can make tea with Poorwife’s Solace, the same as any woman,” said Sabetha. “I have been thoroughly instructed in avoiding the … imposition of a child.”

“Rest assured it
would
be an imposition,” said Ezrintaim. “I will assume that any such occurrence, no matter what sort of accident you plead, is a deliberate attempt to secure a hasty marriage to Lord Boulidazi. I will never threaten your personal safety, but I will certainly threaten your happiness. Is that clear?”

“Absolutely, my lady,” said Sabetha.

“Good. Let us speak no more of this until we are under Lord Boulidazi’s roof. Now, your company did tolerably well today. A brisk staging despite your winnowed numbers. I’ll deliver a favorable report, and I expect that attendance tomorrow will benefit. Dare I assume that Lord Boulidazi has now satisfied his urge to flounce about onstage as a bit player?”

“I fear Gennaro won’t be flouncing anywhere for some time,” said Sabetha. “His attendance tomorrow will be far more conventional.”

“Also good. I suppose you’re eager to return to his side.”

Sabetha nodded vigorously.

“Then do so. Please express my desire for his swift recovery. And that he might act in a more considered fashion, henceforth.”

Locke and Sabetha excused themselves, then raced back across the Old Pearl courtyard toward the attiring chambers. Locke’s head swam with the realization of what a fool he’d been to neglect the possibility that the nobles of Espara might have their own sources of intelligence, their own plans and expectations. Baroness Ezrintaim was more right about one thing than she could know. He
had
arrogantly neglected the wider world in his scheming.

“I think that was the strangest damned lecture I have ever received,” he said to Sabetha.

“You too, huh?”

ZADRATH
’
S HYACINTH
Lane Aquapyria was the most reputable bathhouse in Espara, featuring warm baths, cold baths, steam rooms, and a variety of services both openly advertised and discreetly arranged. Within its courtyard lay a tall central building fronted with decorative columns, surrounded by private outbuildings, one of which had been secured for the use of Lord Boulidazi and his entourage.

Welcome clouds were thickening overhead when the Moncraine-Boulidazi wagon pulled into the Aquapyria’s court, scarcely an hour after the end of the play. Locke, Sabetha, Jasmer, Calo, and Galdo rode, and Donker still lay miserably concealed somewhere in the heart of the wagon’s contents. Locke and Galdo, dressed in threadbare but
serviceable footman’s jackets from the company’s property, leapt out, entered the reserved bathhouse, and chased out the blue-trousered, bronze-muscled attendants.

“Lord Boulidazi will be here any minute!” cried Locke, pushing the last of them out the door. “He desires privacy! He has injured himself and is in a foul mood!”

When the courtyard was clear, Locke and Galdo helped Donker out of the wagon and into the bathhouse, taking just a few seconds to make the move. Jasmer and Sabetha followed. Calo took the wagon to the stable, there to check the horses and quite literally sit on the corpse of Boulidazi.

Each private bathhouse had a theme to its decorations, and the one secured for “Boulidazi’s” use featured toads. Silver and iron toads surmounted all the basin fixtures, and the walls were murals of toads wearing crowns and jewelry while luxuriating in hot baths. A square sunken bath of white and green tiles dominated the middle of the room; it was about three yards on a side, and its lavender-scented waters steamed. Beside it, on a low refreshment table, several requested wines and brandies had been set out with a tray of sweets and bottles of aromatic oils.

On the left-hand wall a door led into a large steam room, where water could be poured on a brazier of coals to suit the tastes of those lounging inside.

Donker instantly collapsed against a wall, shuddering and gagging. He was frightfully pale.

“Easy there, Donker.” Locke put a hand on his back. “You’ve been amazing so far. You’ve saved everyone—”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Donker growled, gulping deep breaths and obviously straining to avoid throwing up. “You just leave me the hell alone. This is worse than I ever dreamed.”

“Well, it’s not over yet,” said Locke. “We still need your clothes.”

Donker surrendered them clumsily. Locke pulled a dressing screen closer to the door and arranged Boulidazi’s wardrobe on and around it, haphazardly. Dagger and jacket he hung from the screen. Silk tunic, boots, vest, and trousers he scattered on the floor.

Sabetha threw her own shoes and costume components on the tiles near the bath. She retained only her black hose and a dressing
gown. Locke did his best to look like he wasn’t staring, and she did an admirable job of pretending she wasn’t encouraging him. Once the floor was in sufficient disarray, Sabetha grabbed Donker by the front of his undertunic and steered him to the steam room.

“Donker’s right,” muttered Moncraine as he followed. “This entire plan is thinner than old parchment at too many points.”

“We’re not doing so badly,” said Locke. “If we can just get past this we’re safe home with the money in our hands.”

Donker, Jasmer, and Sabetha closed themselves up in the steam chamber. Locke used some of the aromatic oils to slick his hair back, and donned a pair of costume optics provided by Jenora. He positioned himself next to the door, while Galdo ate sweets and examined the wine bottles.

There was a knock at the door not two minutes later.

Instantly, Jasmer moaned in a manner that was half-pained and half-sensual. He’d been retained for this portion of the scheme for one reason—he alone had the depth and flexibility of voice to imitate Baron Boulidazi.

Locke opened the front door of the bathhouse. Nerissa Malloria stood there holding a reinforced wooden box, with one of her burly hirelings at her shoulder. The other waited with the carriage that had brought them.

“Ahhhhhhh,” cried Moncraine. “Ahhh, gods!”

“Mistress Malloria,” said Locke, coughing into his hand. “Please come in. My lord Boulidazi instructed us to expect you.”

“I said more wine, damn your dry balls,” shouted Jasmer. “Where is it?”

Galdo busied himself with a wine bottle and a pair of glasses.

“Very interesting,” said Malloria, stepping over the threshold and moving carefully to avoid the clothes scattered on the floor. Her man remained outside and closed the door. “I’m to present this to the baron and obtain his mark on a chit.”