Hope and Red (32 page)

He continued to stare at her. “You
would
fit into her maidservant's dresses. But I'm afraid the maid's mother just passed away, so all she packed was mourning clothes.”

“I prefer black anyway,” she said.

“Ah yes…” He eyed her black leather outfit. “So I see.” Then he turned back to Red. “Once you've both changed, I'll take you across the bay myself. That way you can tell me about your mother while we travel, and you don't lose much time in the telling.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Red, this time with sincerity.

Red tried not to gawk as Thoriston led them through the hotel lobby, which was even more opulent than the gallery. Gas-powered lights in every room, crystal chandeliers, silk embroidered wall hangings, thick fur rugs. Every room smelled like flowers and sweets. He glanced over at Hope and saw her eyes nearly popping out of her head.

Thoriston led them into his lodgings, which were just as fine as the lobby.

“Where is your wife?” asked Hope as her eyes scanned the rooms.

“Oh, back at the gallery, I expect,” he called as he walked into the bedroom and began to sort through the clothes in his wardrobe. “She's fond of that orchestra. That's why I hired them. My deep, lifelong passion for Lady Pastinas's art is sometimes difficult for her to appreciate.”

“I can't imagine why,” said Hope dryly.

Hope and Red waited in the sitting room while Thoriston riffled through the clothes, leaving a mess in his wake. Red suspected there were probably people who picked up after him. He might not even be used to getting clothes himself.

“Here we are!” he said, beaming triumphantly as he returned with clothes for Red. He turned to Hope. “There's the maidservant's quarters. I'm sure anything in there will do.” He paused, suddenly looking unsure. “Eh…do you require assistance in getting dressed? I can call up—”

“We'll manage just fine, thanks,” said Red.

Once Red had finished dressing, he looked at himself admiringly in the mirror. He had on a fine brown frockcoat with gold trim and brass buttons, a waistcoat, trousers, and a silk cravat, which Thoriston had to help him tie properly. What would his old wags say if they saw him now? Handsome Henny would've pissed himself laughing. Sadie might have died in shock. Filler probably wouldn't have been able to look him in the eye. And Nettles…he would've never heard the end of it. But now, without their snide remarks and disapproving glances, he allowed himself to relish in this odd little fantasy while he waited for Hope to finish.

Hope was not nearly as enthusiastic.

“All this fabric swishing around my legs.” She clutched at the thick folds of black cloth. “It's nearly impossible to move properly.”

“I think it's a significant improvement,” said Thoriston. “It lends a great deal to accentuate your more feminine attributes.”

Red had to agree. Her pale, freckled shoulders gleamed in the lamplight, and the black corset pushed her small breasts together to offer a hint of cleavage while flaring out her waist at the bottom. But he was smart enough not to say anything out loud.

Hope grunted and tugged at the corset. “It's impractical and uncomfortable. And I have nowhere to hang my sword.”

“I can hold it,” offered Red.

She placed the small, round black hat on her head. “No. You can't.”

“Shall I have these…disposed of?” Thoriston pointed to their regular clothes.

“No!” both Hope and Red said at once.

“Ah, we'll just hold on to those, thanks,” said Red as he rolled them all up in his longcoat and tucked it under him arm.

Thoriston led them back out of the hotel and to the path along the cliff. The moon and stars were out, glimmering off the bay far below. After a short walk, they descended a narrow staircase that zigzagged down to the docks.

“I sail my own vessel,” Thoriston said proudly as he led them to a small sailboat. “Not out into the ocean, of course. Just around the bay. My wife tells me I'm mad and refuses to get in it with me, but I find it quite invigorating.”

His small yacht looked much like the ones they used to raid on the
Savage Wind
. Red suppressed a smile as he imagined how Thoriston would have reacted to being boarded by Sadie the Pirate Queen and her crew. But Thoriston did, indeed, know how to handle the small craft. Soon they were under sail and gliding smoothly out into the bay.

“Now,” said Thoriston as he leaned comfortably back at the stern, one hand on the tiller. “I want you to tell me
everything
about her.”

“Ah, the tragic tale of Lady Pastinas, is it?” asked Red, working into his storytelling tone. It helped him get some distance from it, and it made things more entertaining for his audience.

“Yes,” breathed Thoriston, his eyes wide like a child.

It was nearly sunrise by the time they reached the far side of the bay. The first streaks of red were just coming up over the square, orderly tops of the Keystown Imperial Garrison. Red had finished his tale a few minutes before, timing it perfectly. Thoriston was dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief.

“Your poor family,” he muttered as he tied his boat to the docks.

“Well, you've done a great deal to mend things,” said Red, clasping his hand. “Both in honoring my mother's memory and helping to reunite me with my grandfather.”

“It seems the least I can do,” Thoriston sniffled. “Your mother's work has given my whole life meaning.”

“Truly said.” Red gave his best smile and patted the top of the old gaf's hand.

Thoriston gave them detailed directions to Pastinas Manor. Red took careful note so that he could make sure to avoid it. Then he and Hope disembarked. They stood on the dock and watched as Thoriston's boat glided back out into the bay.

“You didn't tell him everything.” Hope's tone was oddly subdued.

“Of course not,” said Red. “A story is told as much by what you leave out as what you put in.”

“But if he's truly going to write it down and make a history of it, no one will ever know that you were the one that painted so many of her works.”

Part of him wished Old Yammy hadn't told her quite so much about his childhood. Although he was surprised to find that a part of him was grateful.

“Only one hero in a story, Hope, my old pot. And there's no sense bogging a fine tale down with the dreary truth. Besides, we all need to keep some things for ourselves.” He turned to face the hard, uninviting exterior of Keystown. “Now, where does that sword of yours say we go next?”

25

H
ope knew that dresses were something many women wore. She
knew
it. And yet, as she and Red prowled through the orderly streets of Keystown, she had a hard time accepting that fact. Simply getting the thing on had been an ordeal. Halfway through, as she nearly dislocated her shoulder trying to tighten the corset strings at her back, she understood why Thoriston had suggested someone help her. Clothing that was so poorly designed that one couldn't put it on alone? It seemed like a cruel joke. And once she had the corset tight enough, it was an uncomfortable joke as well. She understood now why women were always fainting in the imperial romances she'd read in her youth. It wasn't from shock or fear, but from simple lack of breath. And this was no minor detail. Breath, as Hurlo had told her many times, was at the root of who we were. Our very soul. Mastering one's breath was the first lesson she had to learn. To think that the women in the upper classes had this necessary aspect of themselves so restricted, it was no wonder men seemed to hold the advantage.

She had thought that at least there would be ease of movement below the waist. But these were not the simple loose peasant skirts her mother wore. These were tight, packed with redundant cloth, and then draped with even more redundant cloth. The slim pointed shoes didn't help. Walking was a challenge. Running, if it came to that, would be far worse.

But she was grudgingly grateful for the clothes. Keystown was swarming with imperial soldiers. The neighborhood seemed to be one vast barracks. The few non-imperial people she saw were either wealthy uptown residents or their clean and smartly dressed servants. Had Hope and Red shown up in their grimy, patched-up clothing, they would have drawn the soldiers' eyes immediately. Even dressed as they were, they were stopped at two different places by a soldier asking if they had seen a blond woman in black leather. Hope held her sword down at her side, concealing it within the ruffles of her ridiculous dress. Her round black hat didn't completely cover her hair, and she worried that one of them would notice the color. But none did. Perhaps it was the earliness of the hour, or perhaps the investigative training of the imperial troops really was as poor as Red claimed. As they continued through the broad, straight streets, she started to believe they might make it through Keystown without incident.

The third time they were stopped went a bit differently, however. The soldier wore the standard white-and-gold uniform like the others, and had that same bored expression as he stepped in front of them. “Pardon me, good people. Have you seen a blond woman dressed in a strange black leather costume skulking about?”

“No indeed, sir,” said Red cheerfully. “Is she dangerous?”

“Extremely.” The soldier's eyes passed over Hope without even a glimmer of interest. “If you see her, don't approach. Just go find the nearest…”

He trailed off as he looked harder at Red. “Do I know you?”

“I don't think so.” Red turned to Hope. “Come along, dear, we must hurry on our errand.”

They tried to make their way around the soldier, when his face suddenly lit up. “You! You're the one who stole the money off my cart! Got me demoted to foot patrol. I'm going to—”

He stopped short as Hope struck him between the eyes with the end of her sheathed sword. He crumpled to the ground in a heap.

“Is he dead?” Red peered down at him.

“Unconscious.”

“How long till he wakes up?”

“An hour at least,” said Hope.

“I could have talked us out of it.”

“I think your opinion of your own charm is a little inflated,” she said.

“But now we have the body to worry about,” said Red. “And this place is crawling with imps. It won't be long before another one comes by.”

“True,” admitted Hope. She scanned the surrounding area, but there wasn't really anywhere around to stow the body. The streets were so clean, there wasn't even anything to cover it with. Then she took a closer look at the surface of the street itself.

“Is that some kind of hatch in the ground?” She pointed to a round iron disk embedded into the cobblestones.

Red frowned. “I'm not sure.”

He bent down and slid his fingers along the edge.

“Heavy,” he grunted. “You want to give me a hand?”

She tried to bend over, but the corset made that impossible. Instead she had to squat, straight-backed, until she was low enough to reach. And even then, she heard a slight tear as her thighs pressed out against the dress. Apparently, uptown ladies were not expected to pick things up.

“Let's open it slowly,” she said. “We don't know what's down there.” But when they did open it, the stench made it clear precisely what was in there.

“It smells like the worst parts of Paradise Circle all in one place.” She wrinkled her nose and turned her head away as they slid the iron lid to one side.

“That's about what it is.” Red pointed down into the hole, where a shallow stream of excrement moved sluggishly along. “No wonder the streets are so clean. They move it all underground. Kind of ingenious, really.”

“Also useful for us,” said Hope, nodding to the unconscious soldier.

“So right after I get him demoted, we knock him out and drop him in a puddle of piss and shit,” said Red. “Maybe you should have just killed him.”

In other parts of New Laven, the transitions from one neighborhood to the next had been gradual. It had been difficult for Hope to tell where exactly one ended and the next began. But the transition from Keystown to Hollow Falls was so starkly abrupt, it seemed a purposeful declaration.

On one side of the street were the neat, orderly, tightly packed barracks of the imperial garrison. On the other side, the world opened up into rolling hills, charming wood fences, and clear trickling brooks with finely crafted bridges. Ornate mansions dotted the landscape, surrounded by vast spreads of green. Coming from downtown, where everything and everyone were piled up on top of each other, it struck Hope that in a place like New Laven, space might be the most precious commodity. To have this much open space, and to keep it without functional purposes such as farming or storage, was the height of decadence.

“You sure the sword says to go this way?” Red asked.

She nodded.

“Rich people aren't so scary,” he said, as if assuring her.

“I'm not frightened of them,” she said.

“Right. Well. Me neither.”

It was unusual to see his confidence falter like this. A few days ago, she might have found it amusing. But after the last few nights, learning more about his childhood and family, she understood far better what lay behind all his cavalier bluster. Now it pained her to watch him struggle.

“Let's continue, then,” she suggested gently.

“Of course!” His smile returned, but looked a little tight. “If he keeps fleeing north, there's only so much further he can go before he runs out of land. We might even catch him before nightfall.”

“Unless he takes to ship,” said Hope.

“Don't you worry, old pot, we'll catch him before that.” He slapped her back like she was one of his wags. She wondered if he missed Filler. She could see how his tall, quiet presence might give Red some additional confidence right now. She was surprised to find that she missed him as well. And Nettles, too. If nothing else, it would have been nice to have someone else to share the misery of formal uptown dress with. She wondered if she would ever see either of them again.

“Let's be on our way, then,” said Red. “Biomancers don't behead themselves, you know.”

They crossed the street into the wide, spacious neighborhood of Hollow Falls. It felt like a transgression to do even that small thing, and Hope half expected to see soldiers pop up from behind bushes to drive them back. But of course, nothing happened. In fact, as they walked down the side of the winding road that cut through the meadows, there were hardly any people at all. The few they saw were in carriages or on horseback, and nodded politely as they passed. Some even wished them a good afternoon.

After the drab grays and browns of downtown, the colors in this place were a welcome relief. Lush green grass covered the rolling hills. Pale green and yellow leaves covered the thin, elegant trees. Bright flowers in reds, blues, and yellows sprang from carefully manicured shrubs and bushes. Fences were painted a dazzling white that reflected the afternoon sunlight.

But even more striking than the space or the color was the quiet. Hope had grown up in quiet, both in her village, and later on Galemoor. Even on the
Lady's Gambit
, quiet had been fairly easy to find once she got used to the sounds of the sea. But since landing in New Laven, she had not had a single moment of true quiet. Whether it was people talking, shouting, music playing, carriages rattling, guns firing, or companions snoring, the silence was nonexistent. But now it was all around them, soaring out over a landscape so vast, sound seemed like an intrusion.

She could tell Red didn't find silence the same peaceful respite she did. He kept glancing around them, his eyes darting, his hands tense at his sides. He would try to engage her in conversation, but when she only answered in shrugs or quiet grunts, he seemed to take the hint and gave up.

They continued up the winding road, occasionally crossing side paths that were just wide enough to let a carriage pass. Those led up to mansions that stretched several stories and were surrounded by dense, complex gardens full of rare plants Hope had only read about. Though not quite as large as Bayview Gallery or the hotel, they were still big enough that Hope found it difficult to believe they were merely homes for a single family.

It was late afternoon, the sun low in the horizon, when the sword gave a jump in Hope's hand. She jerked to a stop, her heart suddenly pounding.

“What is it?” asked Red, breaking the silence for the first time in a while.

“The sword is pointing to that mansion.”

“Is he
in
the mansion, or
past
it?”

“Let's find out.” Hope continued walking past the mansion, but at a faster pace. Her pulse steadily increased with each step, and she felt a hot eagerness welling up inside. Hurlo would have chastised her and told her to stop and return to a place of calm before proceeding. But she couldn't help herself. If it weren't for her dress, she might have even broken into a run. She held the sword out before her, and as they moved past the mansion, it began to slowly twist in her hand, keeping its point toward the mansion.

She stopped and looked at Red. “He must be in there.”

“Um.” Red squinted as he surveyed the place.

“Look for possible entry points,” said Hope. “Probably one of the balconies. Those might not be locked. But there aren't any trees near the building, so we'll have to scale the side.”

“Um, Hope?” Red's voice was barely above a whisper.

“Of course that means we'll have to wait until nightfall. I hate to give him that time. He could easily slip away by then. We could try to find somewhere to keep watch, but there's so little cover around here. And he could wait until dark, conceivably slipping away at the same time we're breaking in…” She frowned. It was not an ideal setup at all.

“Hope,” said Red.

“What is it?” she snapped a little more impatiently than she'd intended.

“Judging by the directions Thoriston gave me, I think…that's Pastinas Manor.”

It took Hope a second to make the connection. The name Pastinas sounded familiar. It was his mother's surname.

“That's your grandfather's house?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

She tried to assess what it meant for him to be at his ancestral home, uninvited, and possibly unwanted. There was a faint look of dread on his face as he stood there with his eyes fixed on the mansion in the distance.

“Well?” she asked. “What do you want to do?”

He turned to her slowly, as if coming out of a trance. “What do you mean?”

“No oath made in friendship can override the familial bond. If your family is harboring the biomancer, they are in my way. It won't stop me, but I understand if it stops you. I…” She paused, selfishly not wanting to continue, but knowing it was the right thing to do. “I release you from your oath.”

His brow furrowed as he looked at her. “Family?” Then he spat. “That isn't my pissing family. Sadie and Old Yammy are my family. Filler and Nettles are my family.” He held out his hand to her. “You are more my family than any of these lacies, blood be damned. Keen?”

Unfamiliar emotions weltered up inside Hope. No one had called her “family” in a long time. She looked into Red's fierce ruby eyes and realized that he was the best, most important person in her life.

She took his warm, gloved hand in hers and squeezed. “Thank you.”