“Did she tell you?”
“Well, yes.” He grimaced. “At least, she mentioned that she’d been able to send a plum commission Eiliff Tenning’s way. But I didn’t know the details, and certainly haven’t mentioned it to anyone. Even so, Lynsey’s second-guessing herself, convinced she somehow caused this, so I’ve strongly hinted to Evelyn that he should go tour Folly’s latest extravagance. That’s sure to take her mind off blaming herself.”
“Because?”
“Oh, Lyn’s been in love with Evie since the first time I dragged her down to Sheerside. I pretend not to know. He certainly has never realised—thinks of her as my pig-tailed little sister. It would be unfair to tell him, don’t you feel?”
“But you’re telling me?”
Lyle’s expression turned mischievous. “What’s a little light sabotage between friends?” he asked, then leaned back as a server approached with a steaming platter.
Because she wouldn’t indulge in an affair with Evelyn if she thought it would hurt Lynsey? Rian decided to take this leap of logic as a compliment, and settled back to enjoy a good meal with an accomplished flirt. The food was an eclectic mix—beginning with a Stomrurian grain dish, then a meat-and-potatoes staple, with a sorbet for afters—but it was all nicely done, though the wine a little heavy for her tastes. She didn’t push particularly hard for information relating to Eiliff, and only learned that Lynsey would provide a little mathematical tutoring at Tangleways, along with swordcraft.
“Let me find you a taxicab,” Lyle said, as they emerged back on the street.
“No need—that omnibus runs right into Lamhythe. Thank you again Lyle.”
She kissed him lightly on the cheek—for they were cheekbones worthy of such a salute—and trotted to catch a passing omnibus. It was a new double-decker model, and yet steam-powered, and as she climbed up to the open top level to enjoy the evening breeze, she reflected on her involvement in matters that might solve the shortage of fulgite, and change how buses were made.
And then she thought about catching an omnibus, even though she could afford a taxicab easily. Habit dies hard. Still, the view was better, especially now that shadows held no mysteries for her.
And what now for her ponderously slow investigation? It had only taken most of summer, but at last the question of Lynsey was solved. Yet the answer brought her so little. Two weak suspects in Folly Fennington and his Matthiel. She was fairly certain Fennington had held back something about the third piece of unusual fulgite he’d retained—possibly an investigation into whether it had been artificially created—but her unreliable new sense had found a distinct lack of murderous guilt in any of the four who admitted to knowing about Eiliff’s commission. If not them, then perhaps an eavesdropper?
The one thing she had gained, as tactfully as she could manage, was the name of the less-than-reputable person who had sold and then tried to buy back several pieces of unusual fulgite. She’d taken a certain pleasure in adding that to the brief report she’d sent on to the palace, and hoped very much that it was something that Makepeace had not already learned, when he’d questioned Folly Fennington before she had the chance.
Undecided on her next step, Rian allowed her thoughts to drift to flirtation. She did not mind that the pursuit had openly become part of Evelyn and Lyle’s playful rivalry. No-one was pretending they had fallen in love. But was Lyle right in thinking that long-standing feelings on Lynsey’s part would make Rian less inclined to trifle there? And what would it be like to bed anyone when contact would inconsistently tell her exactly what they were feeling? Exciting, or awkward?
A greater complication were her ‘niblings’, and whether the idea of aunts with lovers would put further strain on them. Particularly with Eleri, who would be raw to all instances of romance.
There was unmissable irony in an aunt and niece meeting the Queen’s two daughters and having entirely opposite reactions to overwhelming attraction. Eleri saw Celestine and was convinced she had found the one person she would ever want to marry. Rian’s pulse might quicken whenever she let herself think of Aerinndís Gwyn Lynn, but Rian also knew that she had a type—incisive, highly competent, and with a hint not so much of disdain as of being supremely hard to impress. This combination invariably hooked her deeply, and she had learned to recognise when she was being pulled off balance, and avoid the cause.
That was not a response she had considered wise to suggest to Eleri, and she hoped she’d chosen the correct attitude: to not quite dismiss the possibility that the girl might find some future with Princess Celestine, and to do what little she could to support plans for courtship. It seemed unhappy timing, though, for such a goal-oriented creature as Eleri to face another challenge that could not be reliably solved by a precisely-drawn schematic and a stint in the workshop.
Leaving the bus for the short walk back to Forest House, Rian set aside travails of the heart and tried to decide her next step. If the thieves suspected she had the last piece of artificial fulgite, could she use that to bait them? Or should she attempt again to communicate with the ‘haunt’ that seemed to drive the converted mannequin’s movements? She’d chosen, at least, not to mention its existence to Lord Fennington, even though it appeared he was the true owner of both fulgite and finely-crafted commission.
“Llllland of Whores, Land of Euuu-nuchs!”
Two women and a man, arms linked, were making unsteady progress down the street toward her, bellowing Prytennia’s unofficial national song. It must be later than she’d realised. Well-versed in the vagaries of drunks, Rian started to move further to the side of the street, but then stopped and stood still, concentrating.
“Lleeeeggss are wide, brrrreasts are bare!”
“They’ll wring you dry and hang you oooout to air!”
The three passed her by, weaving faintly and not glancing once in her direction. Which proved nothing at all, of course, especially since to them this would be a very dark and unlit section of street.
Shaking her head, Rian wondered if Makepeace would ever stop resenting her long enough to give her some idea what to expect. He was not someone who would respond well to polite requests.
A cool breeze whisking around her legs, Rian turned back toward Forest House, and then froze. Directly in front of her, running silently in place, was a long-eared, long-legged, and insubstantial black hare.
One of the Night Breezes of the Sulevia Sceadu.
TWENTY
No-one could see the wind, but the Night Breezes were more than currents of air. The hare’s ears lengthened as it raced relentlessly in place, streaming dozens of feet behind it before abruptly snapping back. Rian could see its nose twitching, and the eyes, black on black but clearly directed at her. A living creature, but with no river of blood driving it.
Hares were a thing that she associated strongly with her mother, a part of the Processional work that had appeared often in her parents’ house. And here was what those many statues had represented, bounding past her. She turned, only to discover, inches away, the antlers of a black stag hurtling toward her face. There was no chance to even take a step back before a roar of wind blasted over her, snatched her from the ground, and carried her away.
Clutching her cloth-wrapped stick, Rian found herself on the stag’s back, the sensation very different from riding a horse, since there was no gait to adapt to, and she could both feel its back beneath her, and the wind supporting her like a hand. Exhilarating! Also terrifying, as she rapidly rose to a fatal height, though it did not feel possible to slip from the stag’s back and fall. The city spread out blue and silver beneath her, with hot notes of gold for the street lights and still-waking windows.