Page 14 of The Affair of the Mysterious Letter
The doorman bowed, only slightly resentfully. “As you wish, mistress.”
“I am sure”—the lady’s attention landed heavily upon my companion—“that they will do nothing to make us regret our generosity.”
“Regret is such a waste of energy,” returned Ms. Haas. “Come along, Wyndham.”
We proceeded into a vast and crowded hall. Like the exterior of the building, it was a marvel of the architecture of its day, with ornate columns and high arched windows more reminiscent of a religiousinstitution than a civic one. Of course, I suppose, in its way it was a temple of sorts—one dedicated to commerce and industry rather than to anything so impractical as a god. From a gallery above us came music I did not recognise to which the guests were performing dances also unfamiliar to me. Although since dancing at all was strongly discouraged in Ey, while dancing in public with mixed company was flatly illegal, this was not, perhaps, surprising.
My companion caught me by the sleeve and dragged me behind a pillar. “Now,” she said, “I shall circulate and see if I can pick up anything about the good Miss Beck. You should find Eirene and keep an eye on her.”
“To what end?”
“Mostly, I just think it will annoy her.”
“Madam,” I protested. “I hope we have not come all this way and infiltrated a gathering of some of the most influential persons in the city merely out of a peevish desire to vex our client.”
“Not merely. That’s just an added bonus. But if you can, see how they are with each other and let me know if you think Miss Beck is the kind of person to concoct an elaborate charade in order to disentangle herself from an unwanted engagement.”
I blinked. “I’m not sure I know what such a person would be like.”
“Quite a lot like Eirene, now I come to think of it.” Ms. Haas tapped her chin with a finger. “You might also try to get in with the family. If it’s not Miss Beck it might easily be one of her parents.”
“Get in?”
“Ingratiate yourself. Be charming. I have every faith in you, Captain.”
Having thus instructed me, Ms. Haas spun on her heel and disappeared into the crowd. This left me somewhat at a loss. None of my experiences to date had prepared me for searching a room full of strangers, all extravagantly attired and moving in complicatedpatterns, in search of a woman I had met once and from whom I understood I would be expected to conceal myself. Falling back on my training and treating the hall as a site of potential enemy activity, I put my back firmly to the wall and skirted the perimeter. I was very conscious that this behaviour, coupled with my attire and general demeanour, made me somewhat conspicuous and proved not to be entirely suitable to my purposes. Although I was able to get a very thorough sense of the layout of the room, including potential sources of cover, hiding spots, and firing platforms, I was not able to locate Miss Viola. I did overhear snatches of a number of conversations, mostly regarding highly technical issues of trade that I could not repeat even had they been pertinent.
“If you’re a spy,” came a voice at my elbow, “you’re doing a terrible job of it.”
I turned to see a slight, delicate-featured young man with waist-length white hair and thick glasses. The discreet silver brooch pinned to the lapel of his charcoal-grey suit marked him out as an agent of the Ossuary Bank. As, for that matter, did the presence beside him of a six-foot-tall animated corpse in footman’s livery, its eyes and lips sewn shut with copper thread. I was, on a rational level, aware that the Ossuary Bank provided numerous valuable services that underlay the entire economy of the city and much of the wider world. On a more visceral, personal level, however, I could not help but recoil from a man, however winsome he appeared, whose profession required him to routinely violate the sanctity of the grave.
Inching slightly farther from the gentleman, I endeavoured to explain myself. “I’m just looking for somebody.”
“You probably won’t find them stuck to the wall.”
“Ah. No. I daresay I shall not.”
“Don’t worry. I’m terrible with balls too.” The young necromancer flushed. “Sorry. That came out all wrong.”
This conversation was fast reaching a point at which it would havebeen uncomfortable even without the looming shadow of the ambulatory cadaver. “No matter. I’m afraid I really must—”
“You’re not Eyan, are you?”
“Well, yes, as it happens I am. But I really must—”
“That explains the pallor. I mean, not that it’s bad. I actually rather like it. I mean, not that I like pale things in general. I mean, I’m not into corpses. Not that you look like a corpse.” He paused and pushed his glasses back into place. “It’s just, being with the bank—people get the oddest ideas.”
I couldn’t quite prevent my gaze from alighting on the gentleman’s deceased associate. “I’m sure I can’t imagine why.”
“Really? Well, I suppose it’s got something to do with the fact that we traffic in sorceries which transgress the most sacred taboos of most cultures and religions.” He blinked and his face fell. “Wait. Were you being sarcastic?”
I confess that this shamed me a little. My intent had been to balance condemnation with diplomacy, but it appeared I had succeeded only in being arch. “I am sorry. That was unbecoming of me.”
“No, I understand. The truth is, I mostly work in currencies. But then, I suppose I still spend more time conjuring forbidden darkness from beyond the veil of night than the median citizen.”
Apart from that small detail, he seemed a very pleasant fellow, if a trifle odd. And the bright green of his eyes behind his glasses gave him a certain disarming quality to which I was not insensible. Still, I could not shake the awareness that he openly practised the same arts that had held my people in thrall for five centuries.
“Without wishing to give offence,” I said, “I fear I am prohibited by my religion from having any dealings with necromancers.”
