“But . . . The Great Picando made over fifty thousand krogers in its first week,” Leo said, as if he’d just memorized the list of facts and figures.
“Fifty thousand is nothing to boast about, Leo,” Xavier said, the hint of a chill in his voice. “Picando did not have the run I expected it to. There are far too many anti-Talman plays glutting the theaters of Old Port. No, it is time for a change in direction.”
Swansea glided in at that moment and handed Xavier a leather portfolio.
“I saw the old advertisements for this Picando at the Seaport when I arrived,” Kiernan said. “I am sorry to have missed it.”
Agnes wondered how a Pelagan would feel about a play that essentially called his entire religion heretical and amoral. And she was further confused when the main course was served, a classic Pelagan dish from the main island of Cairan—grilled tuna over a bed of sharp greens, drizzled with garlic and olive oil. Agnes couldn’t remember the last time they’d eaten fish in this house—her father preferred red meat.
Kiernan looked delighted by the food and picked up his fork before adding, “Though perhaps I should finish my conversion to Solitism first.”
“You’re converting?” Agnes asked, surprised. Not that there weren’t Pelagan converts in Kaolin, but they were rare.
“Indeed I am,” Kiernan said. “It seemed only fitting to adopt the religion of my new home.”
“Well done to you, sir,” Leo said, raising his glass of champagne and taking a long drink.
“How wonderful,” Elizabeth added.
“Do you plan to live here long?” Agnes asked.
“For the rest of my life, as long as that may be.”
“So you’ll never return to Pelago?”
“No,” he said to her firmly. “I will not.”
“And in the meantime, we will be making great strides together,” Xavier interrupted. Kiernan cast him a nervous glance. “Do not fear, Ezra, I will not reveal all our secrets tonight.” He ran his fingers down the length of the portfolio and studied the two girls sitting opposite Agnes. “Now, if I share this with you, will you ladies promise to keep it a secret?”
Marianne and Elizabeth nodded so eagerly, Agnes knew they would be bursting at the seams to tell anyone and everyone they could as soon as they left the brownstone.
And suddenly she realized why her father had invited these two girls, girls who were high-society gossips and moved in all the right circles.
He wanted them to blab. It was genius, really—free advertising from the perfect sources. Kaolin might be a more conservative country than Pelago, but it didn’t matter where you lived: beautiful women sold tickets. Add into the mix that this would be the final McLellan production . . . well, Old Port would go nuts over that news alone. And it would probably spike ticket sales for Xavier’s other shows in cities across Kaolin.
Agnes felt the heat of embarrassment on the back of her neck. Of course her father hadn’t wanted Elizabeth here because she was kind to Agnes. What a stupid thing to think. The only nice thing her father had ever done for his daughter was build her the lab in her walk-in closet. That should be enough.
Somehow it wasn’t, though.
Then Xavier opened the portfolio and held up a photograph, and Agnes forgot about gossiping rich girls, forgot about the fact that her father always, always let her down, because she was staring at something that couldn’t be real.
“It’s . . .” Elizabeth was frowning.
“A tree,” Leo finished, looking just as confused.
Kiernan grew serious for the first time since dinner had started. “It is not just any tree, my young friends. It—”
“It has a face,” Agnes said. How could they not see it? The photo was in black and white, the tree small and willowy with pale bark and dark leaves. And about halfway down the trunk were three eyes that formed a triangle and a slash of a mouth underneath.
“Well spotted, Miss McLellan! What sharp powers of observation you have,” Kiernan said, impressed. Xavier’s face was unreadable; Leo took another drink, looking disgruntled.
“Why, what is it?” Elizabeth asked.
“It is called an Arboreal,” Xavier explained.
“They are an old myth in my country,” Kiernan said. “Though clearly a myth no longer. Your father and I worked diligently to discover this fellow’s location, and my associates brought him over from Pelago two months ago.”
“What does it do?” Marianne asked.
Xavier smiled and shook his head. “Now that I will not reveal. Not yet.” He put down the photo of the Arboreal and picked up another. This photograph was dark and murky—Agnes could only make out two bulging orbs that looked like . . .
“Eyes!” Marianne shrieked. “Those are eyes, aren’t they?”
“They are indeed,” said Kiernan. Leo was looking more and more unhappy, and he drained the last of his champagne. Agnes assumed he was disappointed the conversation was not revolving around him. “This is a mertag, a sea creature that travels the currents around the Pelagan islands. We caught this one just off the coast of—”
“He was a slippery little bugger,” Xavier said, interrupting. “Very hard to catch.”
“And I assume you won’t tell us what he does either?” Elizabeth asked.
Xavier winked. “Smart girl.”
Leo shifted in his seat as a footman came over to refill his glass, and Agnes wondered if he was thinking what she was—these photographs should have been shown at a private family dinner. It felt as if Marianne and Elizabeth were stealing her and Leo’s lines.
“And these creatures will feature in the new show?”
“They will,” Xavier confirmed. “They will do that and more.” He gave Kiernan a significant look. “But we are still searching. We have heard of sprites that live in the grasses of the Knottle Plains. There will be an expedition shortly to see if they can be found.”
Agnes was surprised to see the color drain from Kiernan’s face, and his hand curled tightly around his glass.
“What do they look like?” Marianne asked.
“Now, now,” Kiernan said before Xavier could respond. “We don’t want to reveal too much.”
A look passed between them that Agnes did not understand. But then her father’s face relaxed.
“Too true, my friend, too true. Ladies, suffice it to say that this show will be unlike anything seen in Kaolin or Pelago before. And it will be for one night only—one night of magic and mystery that I promise you will not want to miss.”
“Father,” Leo burst out, the champagne giving his voice a passionate ring. “I wish to go on this mission. I will help find these sprites and bring them back to you, I swear it. Give me this opportunity and I promise I will not let you down.”
Xavier McLellan’s impressive eyebrows rose about an inch up his forehead. Agnes felt that Leo’s fate was balanced precariously as if on the edge of a knife. He whined about wanting to take over the business all the time, but offering to actively search for some creatures in the Knottle Plains was new for him. Agnes couldn’t decide whether she was annoyed or impressed.
Everyone at the table was watching Xavier and Leo—even Marianne seemed to understand that something important was happening.