“Yes, my lord,” I murmured, thinking of how he had no compunction in picking a fight when I was the guest in Jusson’s house.
“But you don’t drink.” Gherat signaled and another servant presented a tray, this one with a fake asp twined around the glasses. He waited until we took a glass, then turned to the crowd, scanning it. “Let me introduce you about. You may know everyone here, Esclaur, but there are several that Rabbit should meet.”
It was like a fever dream of the king’s reception as Esclaur and I were passed from guest to guest. But instead of open stares full of curiosity, here everyone was black-masked and hidden. With the decorations, the nightmarish servers, and the dirges the musicians were playing (evil sorcerer music, I supposed), the weight of it pressed down like a soft, suffocating pillow, and I wondered that Teram would consider this fun.
“So, ah… Dabbit, are you long in town?” a lord in doyen robes asked.
“It’s Rabbit, and I don’t know—”
“You must get over to the Boar’s Head, Nabbit. They’ve such excellent sport there.” The man launched into a detailed description of all the cockfights he had attended—blood drop by drop—and I went back to staring about the room, prepared to dodge Lord Esclaur’s foot. Nothing threatened, though, and I glanced over, noting that Esclaur looked a little glassy-eyed.
“I shall be fighting my Gray tomorrow night,” the lord concluded. With a glance at our still full glasses, he raised his own glass and drank deeply. Esclaur and I did the same, though I pretended, as I didn’t want to chance getting a mouthful of vinegar. Finished, the lord set his glass down and looked through me. “Oh, I see someone I must speak with. Grace, Fabbit.” He bowed and walked off.
“Well, that was just wonderful—” I broke off as I got a good look at Lord Esclaur. “Are you all right?” Taking his wine glass, I put both it and mine on a table. I then guided him to an open window.
“I could do with a bit of a breather,” Esclaur admitted. “I think the heat’s getting to me.” He pulled off his mask and moved closer in a vain hope for a breeze. In the meager light I could see sweat beading on his forehead and I frowned, pulling off my own domino. Looking around, I spotted Lord Dru heading our way.
“Here comes Gherat. I’ll ask him if he can get you something cold to drink.” As Gherat reached us, I opened my mouth, only to have Esclaur recover enough to kick the same ankle. I gasped as his toe connected.
“Are you all right, Lord Rabbit?” Gherat moved closer, looking us over.
I gave him a pained smile, staggering a little. “Just a cramp.”
“Oh, too bad.” He moved even closer, his colorless eyes seeming to glitter behind his mask. “Neither of you look very well. How about going outside for a bit to get away from all this heat?”
I moved out of range of Esclaur’s foot. “That’s a good idea.”
Gherat gestured and a servant dressed as one of the sorcerer’s apprentices emerged from the crowd. “Messirs are overcome by the heat. Is there somewhere they could cool off?”
“Yes, milord,” the servant apprentice said. “This way, please.” After bowing, Esclaur and I followed the servant from the room.
“What the hell was that all about?” I whispered, limping again.
“I didn’t see you eating or drinking. What makes you think I want anything?” Lord Esclaur whispered back. “Especially after that bloody awful wine.” He pulled out a clean handkerchief and wiped his face.
“You didn’t drink that last glass, did you?”
“Heavens, no. I faked it, just as you did.”
“Does my cousin usually set such a dismal board?” I asked as we turned a corner, the party fading to a faint murmur.
“No, Teram prides himself on his dinner parties. His kitchen and cellar have always been excellent.” Esclaur blotted his face again. “Until now.” We turned another corner and the party sounds disappeared altogether. We continued down a long hall, until we came to a pair of glass doors. Beyond them I could see the outline of foliage. The servant lit a lamp that was sitting on a small table by the doors.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
The servant looked up and I realized that his face was shadowed by his costume’s cowl. “It’s so that milords won’t have to sit in the dark.” And have every night flier and crawler making its way to us? “No, thank you. We’ll be fine.” As he set the lamp down on the table, I opened the door and stepped outside, waiting for my eyes to adjust. “There’s a bench over there.” I moved in that direction, sighing in relief at the cooler air, only to turn around as I heard Lord Esclaur stumble behind me. He stood swaying, took another step, and his knees buckled. I hurried back and caught him before he collapsed, helping him to the bench.
“Sorry about that,” Esclaur said, his voice slurring. “I do feel awfully peculiar.” He swallowed hard. “Pr’aps I should’ve gotten that drink.” The servant had left the lamp burning by the glass doors and in its feeble light I could see that Esclaur was drenched in sweat. I stood, straining to hear if there was a fountain. Nothing. I thought about going back into the house but discarded that idea, not wanting to leave the lordling alone. “Maybe there’s a water pump somewhere out here,” I said as I stood up, trying to see into the darkness. I then heard a footstep against a paving stone. I waited for another but there was silence. Not even a cricket chirped. Esclaur mumbled something and I crouched down beside him. “Quiet.”
If I were by myself, I would’ve turned the tables and become the hunter. If Esclaur weren’t so sick, I would’ve tried to slip us past whoever was out there. If Jeff were near, I would’ve called for help. If, if, if. I felt for my boot knife and the one I wore in the small of my back since the last abduction attempt, ignoring my officer’s sword as it was new and I didn’t know the balance of it. I quietly took off my cape and, laying it on the bench, waited in the stillness of the courtyard. Then two things happened at once. Lord Esclaur passed out, slumping to the ground, and several men burst out of the bushes.
If this were truly a pantomime, at this point I would’ve either laughed or walked out in disgust. However, it was real life, and even though my attackers wore Sorcerer Slifter costumes and black masks, I was more concerned with staying reasonably whole than with how silly they looked. After the first rush, they all skidded to a stop, surprised to see me up and aware enough to handle two knives without cutting myself.
The five sorcerers and I stared at each other in the dim light from the house; then a couple faded back into the bushes, while the remaining three produced cudgels. By the rustles, I could track the other two working their way around to my back. I shifted around so that I stood at the top of the bench, the three in front of me following. I waited for them to call out to their mates that I had moved, but they stayed quiet, so I figured they had been told not to make any noise.
I grinned and bellowed, “Help! Murderers! Assassins!”
The other two once more burst out of the bush with their cudgels upraised, only to fall over the darkened cape-draped bench. Their heads collided with a satisfying thunk and my grin widened as they sank down, stunned.
The three sorcerers that were left standing began to circle closer. I made a feint with a knife at one and while he leaned back, I lunged at another, moving out of the way of the third who swung at my head. I felt the passing of the cudgel and a chill went down my spine. It would’ve been a killing blow if he had connected. I lunged again and caught one of the sorcerers. His mouth opened in a silent scream before he collapsed and I nearly screamed myself as I could make out that he had no tongue.