LEADORA THEADLES
Over the next few evenings, only Donal met Karigan in
the hall of the Weapons for staff training. She brought Mara along
to prove to her friend she was not being inducted into any secret
order, willingly or not. Mara, at first, gazed at the chamber with
ill-concealed suspicion and interest, while Donal showed only mild
surprise that someone uninvited had entered the domain of the
Weapons. Maybe he did not turn Mara away because the hall wasn’t
actually off-limits to non-Weapons, or maybe because she was
Karigan’s guest. Whatever the case, Karigan was sure they received
few visitors.
Donal was all
business, even drawing Mara into the exercises so that Karigan had
two opponents instead of one. Mara looked to be enjoying herself a
little too much, sneaking in swats when Karigan was busy fending
off Donal.
She learned to use
the staff in both its short and extended forms to defend herself to
a level Donal declared adequate. He showed her how to use the cane
handle to hurt and maim an adversary.
Mara was exhilarated
by the sessions, and at the end of the week, Donal presented her
with a stout fighting staff of her own and made her promise to keep
coming for practice while Karigan was away on her
journey.
“Now look who’s
being sucked into the world of the Weapons,” Karigan told Mara as
they left for the Rider wing.
Mara, flushed and
happy with the night’s exertions and her new staff, could only
grin.
Sprained fingers and
staff training in no way curtailed Karigan’s sessions with Arms
Master Drent out on the practice field, or her duty to take care of
Rider accounts. She showed Daro what needed to be done while she
was away. Daro proved very quick on the uptake and Karigan felt
sure the ledgers would not be in disorder upon her
return.
There were more
meetings with Captain Mapstone and General Harborough to make sure
each of the expedition’s participants knew exactly what was
expected of them. Karigan was beginning to feel a little like
baggage for she was not given any specific duty. She lacked Lynx’s
extensive experience in the wilderness, and Yates’ skills as a
cartographer. The only reason she seemed to be going was that she’d
been in Blackveil once before, for whatever good that would serve
them.
She was run so
ragged during the course of the week that she’d not been able to
spare a thought for the upcoming masquerade. In fact, she’d put it
out of her mind so thoroughly she’d pretty much forgotten about
it.
When finally she
came to her rest day, she awoke mid-morning and lounged in an
armchair before the fire in the Rider common room still in her
sleeping gown and wrapped in a blanket thinking she’d be more than
happy to spend her entire day this way. She was exhausted. There
would be one more day of preparation for the journey, then the
morning after they would depart.
“Well, someone looks
like she’s been out carousing all night.”
Karigan looked up
from the fire to find Connly and Captain Mapstone standing there
and gazing at her. It had been Connly who spoke. She probably
should have at least put a comb through her hair before stepping
out of her room, but it had seemed like too much
effort.
“No carousing,”
Karigan said. “I haven’t had the time.”
Connly nodded and
smiled to indicate he’d only been joking.
“Best that you get
some rest while you can,” Captain Mapstone said, “since you are
leaving so soon and have a big night tonight.”
“Big night?” Karigan
said, puzzled. Then it began to dawn on her.
Captain Mapstone
raised an eyebrow. “Surely you didn’t forget tonight is the
masquerade ball.”
“Oh, gods.” Karigan
groaned and sank deeper into her chair. The masquerade. She
had forgotten. She pulled her blanket
over her head. Maybe if she hid, it would all just go
away.
Sometime later she
still sat there before the fire unable to make herself move.
Stupid ball, she thought. I don’t even have a mask.
Mask? Did she even
have anything to wear? A mask was the least of her problems. She
flung her blanket aside and dashed into her chamber. She threw open
the doors of her wardrobe and gazed at all the green hanging
within. Green uniforms, some pieces of plain clothes, and one
battered, ripped, and soiled blue dress. Despite all her wishing, a
suitable costume did not magically appear before her.
Her plaintive wail
of despair brought Mara and Tegan running to her room.
“What is it?” Mara
asked.
Karigan held the
dress in her arms. Her father had sent it to her in the fall to
impress Braymer Coyle, but then after her disastrous encounter with
the Raven Mask at the Sacor City War Museum, she’d used the dress
to learn swordplay while formally attired. She’d neglected to have
it fixed or cleaned.
“Masquerade ball,”
Karigan said. “I must attend the masquerade ball tonight and I’ve
nothing to wear.”
Mara and Tegan
glanced at one another then stepped out into the corridor to
confer. Karigan sank onto her bed, the crumpled dress still in her
arms. Maybe she would not attend the ball after all, but the words
of Captain Mapstone about supporting her king kept running through
her mind and this ... this might be her last chance to see
him.
Mara and Tegan
stepped back into her room.
“We have an idea,”
Mara said. “Get dressed. We’re going into the city.”
The two costume
shops in the city—the only two worth patronizing anyway—were, as
Tegan predicted, flat out of attire except for some mismatched
oddments. Apparently everyone else attending the ball had already
been to these establishments a while ago and cleaned them
out.
“Now what?” Karigan
asked, full of despair as she exited the second shop.
Tegan smiled.
“Follow me. It’s a short walk from here.”
“What
is?”
“The
Magnificent.”
“The magnificent
what?”
“The Royal
Magnificent Theater,” Mara replied.
“You’re taking me to
the theater?”
“I know someone,”
Tegan said, leading the way, with Mara prodding Karigan from
behind.
The Royal
Magnificent Theater occupied almost an entire block in the artistic
district of Sacor City, and rose high above the street. A sign
lettered in gilt and flanked by carved masks and the royal symbol
of the flaming torch announced its presence. It was frequented by
all the elite citizens of the city when there was no party to
attend at the castle or elsewhere. Karigan had never had the
pleasure.
Plays, operas, and
concerts were presented here. There were a few other theaters in
the city, but they were much smaller affairs with correspondingly
humble entertainment.
The great doors to
the Magnificent beckoned, but to Karigan’s disappointment, Tegan
led them right by the entrance, around the corner of the building,
and down an alley littered with crates and refuse. Karigan thought
they might use a side entrance to the theater, but Tegan instead
stopped at a battered door on the building across the alleyway.
Blue paint flaked off as she pounded on it.
Karigan began to
wonder just what sort of person this was that Tegan knew when the
door creaked open and a mouse of a girl peered out at
them.
“Hello, Nina,” Tegan
said. “Could you tell Madam Leadora I’m here to collect on a
debt?”
Nina said nothing
but receded into the building and closed the door soundly after
her.
“Apparently not,”
Mara muttered.
“Oh, Nina doesn’t
talk much,” Tegan said. “She’ll be back.”
“What is this debt?”
Karigan asked.
“Nothing nefarious,
I assure you,” Tegan replied. “I did a favor for Leadora once.
Introduced her to a friend who had a friend. Upshot is that she got
this position with the Magnificent’s theater troupe.”
“What position?”
Karigan asked, but before Tegan could reply, Nina returned and
beckoned them inside with fingertips that flared with silver. At
first startled, Karigan shortly realized the girl wore thimbles and
they’d caught in the light leaking through the door.
The entry was dim
and smelled musty. A corridor led back a way, its broad plank floor
bare of carpeting or ornament. There were two stairways. One led
up, and the other descended below street level. Nina led them up
the stairs in silence, holding her skirts with one hand and using
the other to balance herself against the wall as she climbed, for
the stairway was narrow and lacking a handrail. The Riders followed
just as cautiously.
“Huh,” Tegan said.
“Usually we go downstairs.”
When they emerged
into the space above, Karigan was immediately reminded of the sail
lofts she’d been in down in Corsa Harbor, only instead of grizzled,
ruddy seamen bent over lengths of sailcloth, there were several
girls and young women studiously sewing bright pieces of material
together.
The loft was vast
and much light flowed through windows at the front of the building,
softening the starkness of the rough wood floors, beams, and
support columns. Bolts of cloth in dazzling hues and patterns were
stacked haphazardly on shelving and strewn across tables. Lengths
of material were draped over mannequins and hung from hooks on the
wall. Much of it shimmered with sequins and beads and metallic
threads.
There were boxes of
feathers and long ruffled scarves, and a mound of mismatched shoes.
Caps and hats and the papiermâché head of a horse were piled in a
corner.
The seamstresses
never looked up from their stitching to see who had entered their
domain, nor did they speak to one another. Their concentration was
palpable. Among them paced a tall lady in a flamboyant purple gown,
a measuring stick in her hand tapping on the floor with each
stride. Her hair was coiffed and coiled into a perfect pile on her
head, and her cheeks and lips were attractively
rouged.
“Tee-gon, my dear!”
the woman exclaimed when they all reached the top of the stairs,
and she hastened over to them and placed her hands on Tegan’s
shoulders and air-kissed each cheek.
“Hello, Leadora,”
Tegan said, grinning.
“Tee-gon, where you
been all this time, eh?”
“Oh, you know,
working for the king.”
Leadora clucked her
tongue. “He write so many letters? You do not come to the thee-ator
and it will wither your soul.”
Karigan found
Leadora’s accent strange. She could not place it.
“My employer takes
my service very seriously,” Tegan said. “You know how it
is.”
“Yes yes yes.”
Leadora swiped her hand through the air dismissively. “And who are
these?” she asked, glancing at Karigan and Mara. Karigan caught her
quick double take when she observed the burn scars on Mara’s
face.
“Leadora, meet my
friends Mara Brennyn and Karigan G’ladheon. Mara and Karigan, meet
Madam Leadora Theadles, head seamstress for the Magnificent’s
theater troupe.”
Leadora’s gaze
sharpened as it fell back on Karigan. “G’lad-hee-on? Of the
cloth?”
“Er, yes,” Karigan
replied.
Leadora clapped her
hands together. “Very good cloth. Very fine quality.” Then she
waggled her finger at Karigan. “But very expensive! Too expensive for stingy troupe
manager.”
“Leadora,” Tegan
said, “why are you up here? It’s nicer, but why have you
moved?”
Leadora put her hand
to her hair as if to claw at it, her expression one of misery.
Karigan began to wonder if the troupe’s acting occurred only on
stage.
“Most terrible!”
Leadora cried. “It was a flood.”
“What
flood?”
“That terrible,
terrible cellar we worked in. It leaked. The snow, the rain, the
freeze, the melt. One morning I come in and our shop, it is full of
water. We move into this nicer place, eh? Was shop and storage for
another tenant—cabinet maker, but he move.” Then Leadora scrunched
her face. “He leave all his sawdust and wood chips. We must sweep
and sweep.” Then she sighed. “So now we are much busier. Most all
our cloth and costumes wrecked by flood. Gone! Worthless,
destroyed.”
“Uh-oh,” Tegan
said.
“Yes. Is very bad.
We try to make new for the next production. We must make everything
from—how do you say?—from scratch. The girls work very hard
now.”
“So much for that
idea,” Tegan muttered.
“Idea? What is
this?”
“Well,” Tegan said,
“Karigan here is in need of a costume for the king’s masquerade
ball tonight, and seeing as you owe me a favor, I thought you could
maybe help out.”
“Oh my dear
Tee-gon!” Leadora started pacing about spouting a stream of
incomprehensible words.
“Where is she from?” Mara whispered.
“I’m not actually
sure,” Tegan said. “But I kind of suspect she’s from right here in
the city.”
Karigan and Mara
both stared at her.
“She’s a brilliant
seamstress sure enough, but the rest?” Tegan shrugged.
“Aha!” Leadora’s exclamation made them jump. She
tapped her measuring stick on the floor. “I may be able to help.
Then debt repaid, eh?”
“If you can supply
Karigan with a proper costume,” Tegan said, “yes, it
is.”
Leadora
smiled.