Page 13 of The Affair of the Mysterious Letter
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Ubiquitous Companies
In the daysfollowing our return from Wax Flower Hill I was not in the best of spirits. The matter of my near devourment by the Princes of the Mocking Realm was itself of little consequence, but the details of the experience had nonetheless brought to the forefront of my mind certain recollections upon which I preferred not to dwell. Ms. Haas, either out of sympathy for my mood or indifference to my existence, permitted me the space to marshal my reserves, making no attempt to engage my attention for almost a week.
This state of affairs changed abruptly when I returned home from the hospital to find her waiting impatiently in the hall.
“What are you doing, man?” she said. “You’re not even dressed.”
I hasten to clarify that I was most certainly dressed and that her comment referred to the fact that I was clad in my habitual workwear while she was attired in an extravagant court dress of the style fashionable in the Uthmani Sultanate. That is to say, layers of flowing silk, in jewel-bright colours, trailing sleeves that would be considered sinfully impractical in Ey, and voluminous trousers, the ankles of which were plainly visible under her skirts.
Removing my hat, I attempted to place it on the hatstand, only for the furnishing in question, still unfortunately haunted, to shuffle out of the way. “Dressed for what?”
“For the ball. We are late already.”
“I was not aware of any ball.”
“Really, Wyndham.” She made a sign of warding in the direction of the hatstand. It gave one last shudder and stopped dead. “Must I tell you everything? The Grand Ball of the Ubiquitous Companies is an annual event, and surely it must have occurred to you that, should we wish to seek information regarding the peers, associates, and rivals of Miss Cora Beck as they might pertain to our current investigation, we would be well advised to attend?”
I did not think it entirely fair of Ms. Haas to expect that I would make quite so significant a leap unprompted. “My apologies. I shall change directly.”
Returning a few minutes later in my best tunic and collar, I drew an exasperated look from Ms. Haas.
“Were we not,” she drawled, “about to attend a gathering of glorified shopkeepers I should insist you allow me to supply you with a more suitable ensemble.”
Given my companion’s own sartorial choices, that was not an eventuality to which I looked forward. There was not, however, opportunity to protest, for Ms. Haas hurried me out the door and into a waiting hansom. As we were whisked through the cobbled streets of Athra towards the counting hall of the Ubiquitous Companies I risked asking whether we actually had an invitation.
My companion gave me a condescending look. “I am the sorceress Shaharazad Haas. Being uninvited is sort of my thing.”
“That seems like it could get one into rather a lot of trouble.”
“Getting into rather a lot of trouble is also my thing.”
The veracity of this statement was fast becoming apparent and it gave me, at the time, some cause for concern. I had, after all, been raised to see the value in living as unobtrusive a life as possible. Over the years, however, getting into trouble became very much our thing. And although Ms. Haas was nigh invariably the instigator of our adventures,and I never quite came to share her delight in chaos, I would not have traded my part in them for the world.
The counting hall, like many of the city’s most ancient buildings, was an eclectic mishmash of architectural styles and features. Its facade had been renovated within the last century, following the damage caused in the unrest following the Khelathran secession from the Uthmani Sultanate, but the original building—designed in high Athran style, emphasising pointed arches, vaulted ceilings, and needle-like spires—was much older. Indeed, the catacombs beneath the counting hall were said to date back all the way to ancient Khel, whose empire had dominated much of the northern seaboard for several hundred years. Presently it was illuminated with a great many lanterns and alchemical lights, which made the ornate stonework gleam golden against the night sky.
Owing to the sheer number of carriages and conveyances all presumably headed to the same location as ourselves, it would have taken us almost as long to travel the last few hundred yards up Alderman’s Way as it had taken to make the whole of the rest of the journey. Never one to exhibit the virtue of patience, or for that matter propriety, Ms. Haas insisted that we disembark and proceed on foot. This earned us disapproving looks from the uniformed gentlemen who waited by the doors, verifying the identities of would-be entrants.
“Name?” said one of them in the resigned tones of a person who has been doing a tedious job for some while and expects to be doing it for some while yet.
“Shaharazad Haas and John Wyndham.”
He checked his papers. “You’re not on the list.”
“No, I’m not.” And with that, my companion walked confidently into the building.
In some confusion, I trailed after her and the doorman trailed after me. We had made it only a short distance into the spacious and sumptuously decorated atrium when we were descended upon by anumber of serious-looking individuals who I took to be guards. I could not help but think that, for a mission whose purpose was to covertly reconnoitre the event, we were making rather a scene.
“You have to leave, miss,” insisted the doorman. “Otherwise we’ll be forced to summon the Myrmidons.”
Completely ignoring him, Ms. Haas instead called out across the hall to a diminutive dark-skinned woman in a gown of the most remarkable cobalt blue, accented with complex patterns in subtly different shades that made her look for all the world as if she was wearing the entire sky. “Perdita, could you help me out of a spot of bother?”
The woman turned and gave Ms. Haas a look I would see again many, many times over the years. It was a look that said “Although it is monstrously inconvenient for you to impose upon me in this manner at this time, I am sufficiently indebted to or respectful of you that I will choose not to emphasise the fact.” She swept towards us, her sizable entourage following. “What is it this time, Shaharazad?”
“My friend and I need to get into the ball, and by some terrible mischance our invitations have gone astray.”
“What a terrible oversight.” The newcomer folded her arms and I had the distinct impression she was not much convinced by Ms. Haas’s story. Then she sighed. “The Ubiquitous Company of Dyers will vouch for these two.”
