He really was ridiculous sometimes, but it was nice to be with someone who could make her laugh. Even if part of her still felt guilty for doing it.
“All right,” said Isaveth. “I’ll take your offer. Thanks.”
* * *
When the sun came up the next morning, it took all Isaveth’s strength to drag herself out of bed. Last night she and Quiz had crouched in Aunt Sal’s garden for more than half an hour before Loyal gave up hunting for them, and then they’d had to sneak back to Isaveth’s house the long way around. On the way they’d struck up an argument over whether Auradia ought to marry Peacemaker Otsik or Wil Avenham, which left Isaveth with such heated feelings that she’d written a whole new story in her head after Quiz pedaled away. It was past midnight when she finally fell asleep.
Nevertheless, today was Templeday, which meant early rising and baths all around. By rights Annagail ought to wash first, but when Isaveth prodded her, she only mumbled and pulled the sheet over her head, so at last Isaveth gave up and took her place. By the time she’d dried herself and put on her temple clothes, Lilet and Mimmi were up and waiting for their turns. But Anna hadn’t stirred.
“Are you feeling sick?” Isaveth whispered as she came back into the bedroom.
Annagail sighed. “I’m just so tired, Vettie. And Meggery asked me to come early tomorrow. You’ll be all right without me, won’t you?”
It wasn’t like Annagail to miss temple, but Isaveth didn’t have the heart to argue with her. She nodded and went downstairs to help her younger sisters get ready.
* * *
“That was awful,” Mimmi said fervently as they left the temple later that morning. “I wish we’d stayed home with Anna.”
Isaveth didn’t have to ask why. Wisdom Hall was the only Moshite congregation within walking distance of Cabbage Street, and so small that all the members knew one another by name. When Devra Breck died, their fellow Moshites had been quick to share food, clothing, and words of consolation—but today they’d offered little but wary glances and uncomfortable silence. Only old Missus Dzato had dared to approach them after the Hour of Remembrance, patting their hands with her soft, wrinkled ones and mumbling that she’d been praying for them.
“It’s like we’re cursed.” Lilet kicked a pebble savagely down the street. “Or infected with some horrible disease.”
“They’re only frightened,” said Isaveth, and she knew it was true, even if she wasn’t sure why. Surely their fellow Moshites weren’t afraid that if they showed kindness to Urias Breck’s daughters, it would make them look guilty too? Papa had seldom gone to temple before their mother’s death and not at all afterward, so it would be ridiculous to claim that he’d killed Master Orien for religious motives. . . .
But somebody had thrown a brick through the window of the hall only a few months ago and painted FILTHY RATS in dripping red letters on the door just because the Gardentown stickball team had allowed a Moshite boy to step in for an injured player and then ended up losing to Willowdell. Some people didn’t need a logical reason to blame Moshites for everything that was wrong with the world. Any excuse would do.
“My feet hurt,” moaned Mimmi several blocks later. “Can we sit down?”
“Lazylegs,” said Lilet scornfully. “We’re not even halfway home yet—and you’re the one with new shoes. Vettie and I have to walk on boxboard.”
It was true: Isaveth had cut fresh liners for both her shoes and Lilet’s before setting out, since it was the cheapest way to cover the holes without having them reshod. But their shoes fit and were well broken in, while Mimmi’s were stiff and her feet weren’t used to them.
“It won’t hurt us to rest a little while,” Isaveth said, glancing around for a suitable place. They were passing a wealthier neighborhood now, with no benches in sight, but that low stone wall around the corner ought to serve well enough. “Come over here, Mim.”
Mimmi limped to the wall, plonked herself onto it with a sigh, and tugged off her shoes and stockings. She hadn’t been exaggerating: The back of her right heel was rubbed raw, and there was a blister forming on the left one. Isaveth wished she’d thought to bring sticky gauze, but it was too late for that now. She’d just have to bind up the sores when they got home.
The street was quiet and shady, with big maple trees arching overhead and the soft buzz of humble-bees working the flower beds behind them. As Mimmi poked glumly at her blisters, Isaveth let her gaze wander to the line of houses across the street. These were of the old-fashioned kind owned chiefly by merchants and elderly nobles, peak roofed and stone fronted and slightly taller than they were wide; they all had gardens in the front as well as a longer stretch of lawn behind, and cobbled driveways curving beside them. Even the smallest was three times the size of her own family’s cottage, with a glass-paneled door in the topmost peak and a little balcony that would be a perfect spot to write, and Isaveth couldn’t help but think how lovely it would be to live in such a place. If she closed her eyes, she could see her grown-up self sitting on that balcony with pen in hand, working on her latest masterpiece. . . .
“This is boring,” announced Lilet. “I’m going to explore.” Without waiting for an answer, she jumped off the wall and headed down the tree-shaded sidewalk, confident as though she’d been born there. Isaveth watched her go, her thin shoulders proudly straight beneath the faded cotton of her dress, and gave an inward sigh. It was no use arguing when Lilet was in a stubborn mood, and Isaveth supposed her sister couldn’t get into much trouble in a well-kept neighborhood like this.
But when twenty minutes had passed and Lilet did not return, Isaveth cursed herself for a fool. “Come on,” she said, reaching for her little sister’s hand. “We’d better go look for her.”
Mimmi whimpered, but she did her best to keep up as Isaveth hurried down the street, glancing from one house to another. There were few walls here and hardly any gates; she could look straight into some of those back gardens and glimpse a stately dowager snipping roses or a little girl playing hoopstick with her governess on the lawn. Lilet, however, had vanished.
“Where would she have gone?” burst out Isaveth in frustration once they’d crossed two streets and looked in all directions to no avail. Lilet might be headstrong, but she was seldom thoughtless, and it wasn’t like her to wander off like this. Isaveth was close to despair, and wondering what she would tell Anna, when Mimmi tugged her hand and said, “I hear music.”
Sure enough, her sister was right. Either someone on the street had a crystal set turned up loud, or a troupe of string players were performing nearby—and Lilet adored music. “Good ears, Mimmi!” she said, and they set off to find out where the music was coming from.
It didn’t take them long. The cross street ended in a little park, and beside it stood the biggest house they’d seen yet, with a sweeping stretch of lawn framed by shrubberies taller than Isaveth. The owner had set up a pavilion at one side of the house, draped with gold ribbons and silvery charm-lights, and beneath its gauzy canopy a trio of musicians was playing. Well-dressed men and women strolled about the grass with flutes of sparkling cider in hand, admiring the flowers and chatting with one another.
“It’s a garden party,” whispered Mimmi as they crouched behind the hedge. “Oh, Vettie, isn’t it beautiful!”
Isaveth had to agree. Even the oldest men looked handsome in waistcoats and tailored suits, and the women’s fluttery dresses and flower-trimmed hats made her ache with envy. Lilet must have been as entranced by it all as they were, but where could she be hiding? Tugging Mimmi with her, Isaveth crept behind the shrubberies, trying to get as close to the pavilion and the music as possible without being seen.
Then she saw it behind the tent curtains, like a vision from some wonderful dream. A table spread with white lace and linen, crowded with sandwich platters and tiered stands of fancy-cakes. And in the shadows beneath the table sat Lilet, shamelessly spying on the party.
“Lilet!” whispered Isaveth, praying the musi
c would cover it. “Come out of there!”
Lilet squirmed, feeling guilty perhaps—but she didn’t obey. Isaveth gritted her teeth. “Wait here,” she told Mimmi, then dropped to her hands and knees and crawled through the shrubbery to join Lilet.
As soon as she ducked beneath the tablecloth and saw her sister’s cream-smeared nose and defiant expression, she knew why Lilet hadn’t come out. Somehow she’d managed to swipe a plate of sandwiches while no one was looking, and she was having the feast of her life.
“That’s stealing!” Isaveth hissed at her, appalled and envious at once.
Lilet shook her head. “They’ve all had plenty,” she whispered back. “Nobody’s come this way in ages—and who’s going to eat this food if we don’t?” She nudged the plate under Isaveth’s nose. “Here. Try one.”
Isaveth tried to resist, telling herself it was important to set an example. But she’d been fasting since the night before, and the smell of peppered beef made her stomach cramp with hunger. She took the sandwich, stuffed it into her mouth, and let out a little sigh of pleasure.
The hedge rustled, and Mimmi popped up between them. “Not fair!” she exclaimed—and at that same instant the musicians stopped playing.
Isaveth clapped a hand to Mimmi’s mouth, but it was too late. The three sisters sat petrified beneath the table, listening to the awful silence.
That’s done it, thought Isaveth wildly. We’ll be caught for sure.
Chapter Thirteen
ISAVETH CLUTCHED AT HER SISTERS, blood thundering in her ears. Should they run for it? Or should they stay still, keep silent, and hope the guests at the garden party wouldn’t guess where the noise had come from?
Then a throat cleared, pages flipped, and the musicians struck up another piece. A shadow fell across the tablecloth, and Lilet dug her fingers into Isaveth’s arm—but the guest merely strolled the length of the buffet before wandering off again.
Nobody had heard Mimmi’s outburst. They were safe. Isaveth relaxed and helped herself to another sandwich.
Minutes passed while the sisters munched and listened, and snatches of conversation floated back to Isaveth as groups of guests strolled by. Yet they spoke only of lily varieties, fertilizers, and other fine points of gardening, and Isaveth began to grow restless. If this was all rich folk had to talk about, they might as well leave.
“. . . wearing the peachiest hat,” a girl’s voice enthused, and two pairs of spotless heel-shoes stepped into view beneath the dangling skirts of the table. “I’d love to know where she got it.”
“Yes, but have you seen her hairstyle?” said her companion. “Positively antique! I must say I’m awfully fond of my new crop, no matter what Daddy thinks. Say, are you going to the dance at the Willtons’ tonight?”
Still chatting, the young noblewomen drifted away to the corner of the pavilion. Isaveth crouched and peeked beneath the tablecloth as a third girl, as dark haired and spice skinned as the others were floury pale, crossed the lawn to join them.
“Darling!” gushed the girl with the haircut. “How gorgeous you look in that blue hat. Was the Sagelord’s speech very dull?”
The Sagelord was here? Isaveth cast an anxious glance at her sisters, but they were engaged in a silent struggle over the last crab sandwich and didn’t notice.
“Stop it!” Isaveth hissed. “Lilet, you’ve had plenty. Give it to Mimmi and sit still. I’m trying to listen.”
Lilet let go of the sandwich and folded her arms, mutinous. Isaveth gave her one last glare and went back to eavesdropping.
“. . . as usual, but at least he isn’t drunk,” the girl in blue was saying. “And I suppose he can’t do much harm giving a speech to the Garden Society. If only he’d leave the real politics to Eryx and stop pretending he knows how to run this city.”
“Delicia!” gasped the smallest of the girls. “You can’t talk that way!”
“Why not? Everyone knows it’s true. The man’s a wreck, and what’s more, he’s a disgrace. They talk of dissenters trying to overthrow the council—well, with a fool like Lord Arvis in charge, who can blame them? Honestly, if Eryx hadn’t proposed the Reps’ Bill, there’d be rioting in the streets by now!”
“Ugh, what a thought!” exclaimed the bob-haired girl. “It won’t come to that, I’m sure. Most commoners know their place perfectly well.” But the smaller one looked anxious.
“I’m so stupid when it comes to politics,” she said plaintively, clutching her necklace. “How is the Reps’ Bill going to save us from the dissenters? It didn’t stop them murdering Governor Orien!”
Behind Isaveth, Lilet moved abruptly and Mimmi gave a little squeak, but Isaveth was too distracted to care. Did people really believe Papa had killed Orien as part of some dissenter plot?
“We don’t know why Master Orien was killed,” said Delicia. “It might have nothing to do with politics at all. But the Reps’ Bill is really quite simple. Right now we have ten citizens’ representatives and fifteen nobles on the council—if all the nobles bother to show up, that is. And a noble’s vote is worth twice that of a rep.”
“Which is how it should be,” said the girl in the middle. “You can’t think the commoners are fit to govern themselves, let alone the rest of us!”
“Maybe they would be if we gave them the chance,” Delicia retorted. “That’s why the Reps’ Bill is so important. If it passes, a rep’s vote will be worth the same as a noble’s, and the council will split the two biggest voting wards in half and elect a new rep for each. Then ordinary folk will finally have a real say in council—and since there are so many more commoners than nobles, surely that’s only right?”
An equal vote is an equal voice. That was what it had said on that leaflet Isaveth found the day Papa was arrested. And Eryx Lording was the one who’d proposed the Reps’ Bill? That was as unselfish as anything Auradia might have done, and it made Isaveth admire him more than ever.
“Well, I don’t think it’s right at all,” said the crop-haired girl. “I can’t imagine what Eryx was thinking. Why bother changing the council? The Sagelord’s already in poor health and once he steps down, the commoners won’t have anything to complain about.”
“Steps down!” Delicia breathed a laugh. “Have you met Lord Arvis? He won’t retire short of his deathbed. And he’ll never support the Reps’ Bill, either—it’s a wonder Eryx managed to bring it to a vote at all.”
But now that vote had been postponed because someone had killed Master Orien. Could that have been the murderer’s plan? Isaveth eased herself into a more comfortable position, watching the young women all the while.
“Oh, do keep your voice down!” the littlest noblewoman pleaded, with a nervous glance over her shoulder. “Civilla’s over there, and it would be mortifying if she heard us. You know how frosty she gets when people gossip about her family.”
Isaveth squinted past them, and sure enough, there was the icy blonde she remembered from the Harvest Parade: Civilla Ladyship. She wore a hat trimmed with white roses and a flowing dress that softened her angular figure, and her smile made her look less haughty than before. But if she’d brought her sulky-faced younger brother, the Lilord, there was no sign of him.
“There’s nothing I’ve said that Civilla doesn’t know already,” Delicia retorted. “And we should all be talking about the future of this city. What with this new law they’ve passed in council, and the Keepers arresting anyone who even looks like a dissenter—”
“Can you blame them?” asked the girl with the haircut. “Someone’s got to protect us from the radicals! Why, if they could murder the most powerful Sage in the city, they might be capable of anything!”
“Really, Priss, you make it sound as though Master Orien had a whole arsenal of charms at his fingertips. Why would he? He was a scholar, not a soldier.” Delicia shook her head. “Poor man. I know what everyone said when he took the post, but it does seem unfair.”
“What did they say?” the short girl asked. “I always wonder
ed why there was such a fuss.”
“Only what you’d expect when the Sagelord promotes his children’s old magical tutor to governor of Tarreton College . . . oh!” The severity vanished from Delicia’s face. “It’s Eryx! He’s made it after all!”
Isaveth’s heart skipped. She leaned sideways, straining to see past the edge of the pavilion to the spell-carriage pulling up outside.
The door opened and Eryx stepped out onto the lawn, every bit as handsome as she remembered. He doffed his hat to the matron bustling up to greet him, and his teeth flashed in a welcoming smile.
“Such lovely manners,” Priss sighed. “You’d think Lady Marcham was his favorite aunt, instead of the nasty old harridan she is. Well, it’s true,” she added defensively as the other girls stared at her. “Just because she puts on a nice garden party doesn’t make her any less horrible the rest of the year.”
Delicia frowned and walked out of the tent. “Well!” said Priss, glaring after her. “Someone thinks very well of herself, I must say. But if she thinks she’s going to impress Eryx with her nose-up airs, she’s going to be sorry when she finds out he’s going to the Willtons’ dance with me.”
“Is he really?” exclaimed the small girl, clutching Priss’s arm, and the two of them strolled off together. The music continued, but no one was listening anymore—not even Lilet, who had managed to steal yet another platter and was fending off Mimmi with one hand while she crammed tarts into her mouth with the other.
Isaveth snatched the tray out of Lilet’s reach. “What are you doing?” she whispered fiercely.
“She took all the tarts.” Mimmi sniffed. “And she wouldn’t let me have a single one.”
“That’s because you’re a spoiled brat,” Lilet shot back, and Mimmi turned crimson. Before Isaveth could catch her, she wriggled backward and jumped to her feet.
“Thief!” cried a woman at the edge of the crowd, and Mimmi bolted. But her shoe buckle snagged the trailing lace of the tablecloth, and as she lunged forward, the whole table’s worth of sandwich platters and dessert stands came crashing after her.