“Thank you. That will be all.”
“Very good,” the man said again. He closed the door.
Chosen defend me, is this how the nobility lives? She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have people around all the time, watching you. I suppose I had Marn. But I could punch him if he did something I didn’t like.
There was no question of wearing her traveling clothes, of course, not even with her spare sort-of-clean shirt. Her formal uniform was tucked into the bottom of her pack, somewhat wrinkled after several days on the road. She hadn’t thought to ask whether it would be suitable. I suppose the dux isn’t likely to throw us out. Maya shucked off the gown, tossed it in a corner, and dressed rapidly.
Her hair presented another problem. Even after a long soak, it wasn’t exactly clean, and the nights in the woods hadn’t done it any favors. She attacked it with a hairbrush, heedless of the tangles that yanked at her scalp, and when it was tolerably smooth she tied it into a tail with a leather cord.
There. She examined herself in the mirror. Still no beauty, but it’ll do. At least the formal Order uniform looked a bit dashing, with its black and silver. The boots were the same ones she’d worn in the forest, that couldn’t be helped, but she’d at least taken the worst of the dust off them. And her haken hung from her belt, crystal gleaming.
There was a rap at the door. Maya gave the mirror one last look, then hurried to answer it. Once again, she’d expected Tanax, but this time she found Beq, and the sight made her pull up short.
The arcanist wore her own formal uniform, similar to Maya’s but with deep blue piping denoting her place in the Order. It was well tailored, flattering her curves, but what really took Maya’s breath away was her hair. Beq normally wore it in a thick braid, easily pulled aside for practical work. Now it hung loose in brilliant emerald waves, falling past her shoulders like a curtain and leaving Maya distinctly short of breath.
“Um. Hi,” Beq said, fiddling nervously with the dials on her spectacles. “We’re supposed to go downstairs soon, I think.”
“I’m ready,” Maya said. “You look … nice.”
Beq shook her head. “I don’t … I mean …”
“I don’t know about you,” Varo said, coming down the corridor, “but I could eat a loadbird.” He was in his uniform, too, though he seemed more comfortable than either of them. His bare skull had the gleam of a fresh shave. “Not that I recommend eating a loadbird, to be honest. We had to do that once, and my friend got one of the little bones caught in his throat—”
Maya gave an exaggerated sigh, and Beq giggled, which seemed to break the tension. Varo looked around. “Where’s Tanax?”
“I’m ready.” Tanax opened the door to his room and came out. To Maya’s annoyance, he looked perfectly elegant in his uniform, his hawk-like profile the very picture of the Republic aristocrat. He glanced around for a moment, then said quietly, “I hope I don’t have to tell you to be polite and cautious this evening. We are here to help the dux and represent the Twilight Order.”
“Of course,” Varo said, bowing. “I will be the very soul of courtesy.”
Tanax scowled at him, then met Maya’s eye and scowled harder. Before he could say anything further, a footman appeared to lead the way, and they fell in behind him in silence.
It was a good thing the dux had sent a guide, because the layout of the palace remained incomprehensible to Maya. They followed several long corridors, descended one flight of stairs and ascended another, and finally wound up at a set of broad glass doors that had been thrown open to admit the early afternoon air. Outside was a tiled square, bigger than most village greens, with an elaborately decorated white gazebo in the center and broad circles of grass around the edges. At least a hundred people were milling around, not counting the liveried servants who moved through the crowd like ghosts, distributing drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Under the decorative roof of the gazebo, a dozen musicians in somber suits played softly, ignored by everyone.
Maya, who had been expecting something along the lines of a dinner table and a dozen guests, swallowed hard. At her side, Beq went very still and made a whimpering sound deep in her throat.
Tanax brushed past them, stepping through the doors and out onto the tile. Maya forced herself to follow, and Beq stumbled after, Varo gliding at her side. Maya could hear a ripple of whispers spread through the crowd, and heads turned to follow them.
Raskos was there, still swathed in resplendent silks but now dripping with jewelry as well—gold and silver, but also the weird, twisted shapes of Elder relics, crystals and bits of unmetal cleverly melded with human artistry. When he bowed, something gave a gentle chime. Maya couldn’t help but wince at his smile, which was as horrific as ever.
“My guests of honor,” he said. “I hope you’re not disappointed by your reception. It was a bit of short notice, I’m afraid.”
“It’s lovely, sir,” Tanax said smoothly. “You honor us.”
“No more than you deserve, surely.” The dux beckoned. “Come, I’ll make the introductions.”
Maya found herself whisked away behind Raskos, vaguely aware that Varo and Beq were being hustled off in another direction by obsequious servants. There followed a confusing whirlwind of meetings, with the dux introducing a rotating cast of nobles, bankers, and other notables at breakneck speed, a blur of tasteful suits and intricate gowns. She wondered if the rapid-fire names meant anything to Tanax; judging by the rigid smile on his face, she guessed not. Raskos didn’t seem particularly interested in letting them meet anyone, and Maya got the distinct impression she was being shown off, like a new pony or a dazzling jewel.
“—and this is Lady Vance, of the Moorcat Combine,” Raskos said, gesturing at a stiff-looking older woman in a green coat and trousers. She gave the two agathia a cursory glance, then fixed her gaze on Raskos, not looking pleased. “Lady Vance, this is Agathios Tanax and Agathios Maya, of the Twilight Order.”
“Honored,” Vance said, with a bow so slight it was barely a nod.
“And—” Raskos paused as the music swelled. “Ah. I see it’s time for the first dance. Would the pair of you do us the honor?”
Maya felt like she was suddenly in the center of an expanding circle of inquisitive eyes. She stopped herself from touching the Thing and swallowed hard.
Tanax leaned close to Maya’s ear. “I don’t suppose you dance?”
“I can dance,” Maya said. She turned to glare at him. “Can you?”
“Of course.” He looked skeptical. “A proper centarch must be fit to socialize at the highest levels.”
Jaedia had not given Maya any lessons in decorum that would have helped her socialize at the highest levels. But she had learned to dance, at village fairs and festivals all across the Republic. How different can it be? She turned to face him, chin jutting out, and stiffened as his hand found her hip.
Tanax sighed. “Are you sure—”
“It’s fine.” Maya clamped her hand on his shoulder. “Go ahead.”
The music picked up, and they were off.
Annoyingly, it turned out Tanax was quite a good dancer. His style was a little rigid for Maya’s taste, but he had a feel for the rhythm of the music, which was a formal piece Maya didn’t recognize. After a few almost-graceful turns, she let herself relax a little. Other couples joined in, progressing in a stately ring around the gazebo and the musicians.