Echo in emerald, p.13
Echo in Emerald, page 13
part #2 of Uncommon Echoes Series
“Gorsey,” I whispered to Dezmen. “Everyone looks and smells so nice.”
He grinned. He appeared to be much less impressed with the pageant than I was. “If only they were so nice in their hearts.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We walk around and see if anyone looks interesting enough to talk to.”
To me, that seemed like a daunting proposition in a sea of strangers, but Dezmen was perfectly at ease. From a passing footman, he snagged two glasses of wine and handed one to me; his echoes lifted their own glasses from the server’s tray. Then we began strolling slowly forward, nodding to anyone who noticed us, and catching snatches of conversation.
“The sweetest filly I ever put my money on …”
“But I told him I wasn’t that big a fool …”
“He believed it, can you imagine?…”
“Everyone knew the marriage would be a disaster.”
We’d been there maybe twenty minutes when we were hailed by a young man standing in a knot of people who looked remarkably similar to him. Same age, same style of clothing, same somewhat giddy expression that I assumed came from drinking too much wine in too short a time. “Dezmen! Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“Hello, Randall,” Dezmen replied, giving him a warm smile. “I hear such things about Wimble’s parties that I thought I’d come see one for myself.”
“Oh, they’re great fun,” Randall said. “Anything you want, you can find here. Card games in the rooms over there.” He waved toward a closed door on the far side of the room. “The stakes are steep, but that shouldn’t matter to you. Upstairs you can find—” He glanced at me and blushed. “Well, nothing that would interest you, probably.”
I took a tighter grip on Dezmen’s elbow and bestowed a dazzling smile on young Randall. “I’ll make sure his attention doesn’t go wandering,” I said, to make it clear I knew just what kinds of diversions were lounging in the upper-level rooms.
Randall smiled back at me. Apparently, he appreciated a woman who wasn’t easily offended. “And if you like smokes or berries, there’s a woman in the courtyard out back. She can set you up with anything you want.”
“Most excellent,” said Dezmen. “You must come to most of Wimble’s parties.”
“I do,” Randall said, “but I missed the last two. Traveling for my father, you know. Can’t tell you how glad I am to be back from Banchura.”
“I can imagine,” said Dezmen. “Well, we’re going to prowl around a little and see what catches our attention. Good to talk to you.”
I realized, though Randall probably didn’t, that Dezmen had no interest in him if he couldn’t describe anything he might have seen during the last party at Wimble’s house. When the young man nodded and turned back to his friends, I spoke to Dezmen in a low voice. “So we’re looking for people who were here when? About four weeks ago?”
“Yes. That’s when Leffert was here last.”
“Seems like an odd sort of thing to keep asking people. ‘So do you come to all of Wimble’s parties? Really? Even the last one? Oh good, then I have a question for you.’ People might start wondering.”
“Most of them are probably too drunk to remember what we ask about.”
“Then they might be too drunk to remember what happened four weeks ago.”
“I know. But we might get lucky.”
I gave him an arch look. “Did Leffert consider himself a lover? You might get your best information from the women upstairs. Or the men, depending on his tastes.”
He made a face. “That occurred to me. But I think I’d prefer seeing if I can discover anything on this level instead.”
We continued our slow circuit through the crowd, greeted by a few more nobles who recognized Dezmen and seemed surprised but pleased to see him. Two of the people who were most delighted with his presence were a pair of young women I estimated to be about twenty years old. At a guess, they’d come here on a dare or in a fit of defiance, and their parents would probably disown them if they were discovered at such a disreputable location. They were quite a contrast: One had the pale skin, blond hair, and blue eyes of the Banchura native; the other had the dark coloring that was classically Pandrean. But they both had two echoes lined up behind them, and they both giggled and fawned over Dezmen, stroking his velvet sleeves and wondering if he thought he might dance later in the evening?
“Oh, will there be dancing?” he asked. “I confess, this doesn’t seem like the venue.”
“Well, it’s not proper dancing,” said the Banchuran woman. “It’s more—intimate.”
“My father would say it is wanton,” said the one from Pandrea, and they both went off into gales of laughter.
Dezmen met my gaze, laughter on his own face. “Chezelle? Do you think we might stay for the dancing?”
“Oh, I hope we do!” was my enthusiastic response. “But you’ll have to pair up with one of these girls, since I’d feel ever so awkward having your echoes follow us around.” I glanced about the room as if searching for a friend. “I’d have to find someone else who wanted to be my partner.”
“That settles it. You have to stay,” said the Pandrean lady. “We’ll look for you later!”
They tripped off arm in arm and I grinned at Dezmen. “I can hardly wait.”
His expression had turned severe. “I don’t think you have any idea what their idea of dancing entails.”
“I think I have a better idea than you do,” I retorted. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in a few rooms where it was done, and I’m guessing you haven’t.”
He smiled again, not saying yes or no, and regarded me for a moment. “I think we both still have a lot to learn about each other,” he finally replied.
I laughed. “What next? We haven’t found out anything useful so far.”
“I think I might need to visit the card rooms and play a few hands. I don’t know if you want to come with me and watch or—”
I glanced around. I was feeling more comfortable about being here and talking to random strangers. None of them had been very intimidating—or even very impressive—in our brief conversations so far, and I was starting to think I could hold my own. “I’ll circulate for a while out here. I think once you’re not standing next to me I might find myself a lot more popular.”
Unexpectedly, that made him frown. “I don’t want to expose you to the overeager attentions of a bunch of drunken louts.”
I laughed at him. “I think I can take care of myself. Now go.”
He protested once more, but gave in when I pointed out that we were here to gather information, and it made more sense to split up while we tried to do it. He and his echoes headed for the card room, looking back at me twice before disappearing through the door, and I made another pass around the room.
I did, in fact, draw much more attention now that Dezmen wasn’t beside me, and I quickly developed a useful conversational gambit. My father would be so mad if he knew I was here, but I’m having so much fun! Do you come to all of Wimble’s parties? If the lords I was talking to were not regular visitors, I moved on. If they had been here four weeks ago, I asked if they’d ever met my friend Leffert. He’s the one who told me to come, but I haven’t seen him tonight. Do you know him? Do you know where he is? No one seemed unduly suspicious when I brought up his name—but no one confessed to having talked to him last month, either.
By the time I had made my way toward the back of the room, I was a little overwhelmed by the heat, the perfume, and the glare of candlelight glinting off of gold statuary. The back door was standing open, and the wash of cold air felt so welcome that I decided to go outside for a few minutes. The courtyard was much less crowded and much more pleasant, softly lit by a few lanterns and decorated only with a few benches and widely spaced planters filled with leafy greenery.
Its scents were entirely different, too, a blend of sweet and acrid smoke fumes from a couple of different kinds of burning herbs. These were far more familiar odors to me, and I relaxed even more. I glided through the sparse groups of people, mostly men, all of them more interested in drugs than women at the moment. I glanced from face to face, wondering if there was anyone I should approach.
“Chessie.”
It was such a shock to hear a woman speak my name that I froze in place and wondered how quickly I could dig my concealed knife from its sheath on my left ankle. This wasn’t someone who had just met me tonight; this was someone who knew me. “Chessie,” she said again, and I turned in her direction.
I spotted her right away, leaning against an ornamental tree, her arms crossed, her fair hair and bony face barely visible in the shadows. But I recognized her, too, and I relaxed again. She was a slim, smart, older woman who trafficked in every kind of illegal substance that could be found in the Seven Jewels, both those that could be inhaled and those that could be swallowed—“smokes and berries,” as young Randall had said. More important, she was one of Jackal’s friends.
I crossed the patio to talk to her, my skirts making whispering noises against the stone. “Hello, Gina,” I said in a low voice. “Call me Chezelle here.”
She looked me over, taking in the green gown and the exquisite hairpiece. “You taking up a new line of work?”
“In a manner of speaking, but not what you’re implying,” I replied. “Helping someone who’s looking for information. He thought some people would be more likely to talk to me than to him.”
“Probably right about that,” Gina agreed. “What kind of information?”
I glanced at the men drifting around the courtyard. “About someone who was here the last time Wimble had a party. I don’t think he was a regular visitor, but maybe someone who comes here pretty often would remember him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Leffert.”
Gina shook her head. “I don’t know him. But I can tell you who was here at the last party. And the party before that.” She nodded at a group of young men who had just burst into laughter. They had appeared dazed and a little sleepy when I first walked out, but they were reviving a little as whatever they’d ingested started to wear off. “Those three. They’re always here.” She jerked her head toward a solitary, morose man who hovered over a stone planter and stared at the shrub inside as if attempting to puzzle out a divine script. “That one.” Then she moved her hand to indicate a foursome—two men and two women—who clustered together in the shadows on the far side of the courtyard and passed a lighted object from hand to hand. “And that group. But I wouldn’t waste your time with them. I never see them talk to anyone but each other. And me, of course.”
The three cheerful young men looked to be my best bet. “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll tell Jackal you were helpful.”
She grinned. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”
I studied the young men a moment, strategizing. Two were dark, one was fair; the fair man and one of the dark-haired lords were tall, while the other was short. Other than those superficial differences, they didn’t have many distinguishing characteristics. They were all young, rich, and irresponsible enough to be wasting their family’s money at a place like this. It was not hard to think I could outsmart them. I reached up to unclasp my necklace and coiled it in the palm of my right hand.
With a nod of farewell to Gina, I turned toward the open door of the house and picked my way daintily across the courtyard. I didn’t glance at the knot of laughing men, but I stealthily opened my hand just as I was passing them. Two steps later, I gasped with dismay and laid my hand against my bare throat. “Oh no! My necklace!”
I turned back to hunt for it, bending low to peer at the flagstones. It was hardly a coincidence that I was facing in the direction of the young lords, who had a mighty fine glimpse down the front of my dress.
The shorter lord broke off his conversation with his fellows to say, “Did you lose something, my lady?”
Still bent over, I looked up at him woefully. “Yes, my gold necklace! Oh, I have to find it!”
The other two stepped back and scuffed at the flagstones with their feet. “Gold, you say?” asked one of the tall ones. “You’d think that would be easy enough to see even in this light.”
The blond one reached down to scoop something up. “I found it!” he said triumphantly. “At least—I found a necklace. I don’t know if it’s yours.”
“It’s just a little charm with the letter C,” I said hopefully.
“Ha! Then it is yours,” he said, handing it over.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” I exclaimed, clutching my hand to my heart. “My mother gave it to me, and if I ever lost it—and then had to explain where I lost it—” I indulged in a little shudder.
“It’s my belief that it’s always better if your mother doesn’t know where you spend your time,” said one of the tall ones, and the three lords laughed.
The short one seemed to be the friendliest. “So your name begins with a C?” he asked. “Would you be willing to tell us what that name is?”
I hesitated, as a lady should, and then smiled, as a conspirator must. “Chezelle.”
“I’m Trev,” he said, then waved at his fellows. “Jordie. Barton.” I thought the blond was Jordie and the dark-haired fellow was Barton, but the introduction had been so casual I couldn’t be sure.
“So are you enjoying the party, Chezelle?” asked the one I thought was Jordie.
“I am. I’ve never been before. But it’s ever so much fun.” I don’t know when I had gotten it into my head that “ever so” was a phrase silly young noblewomen used, but it had spilled out of my mouth at least ten times tonight. Each time, I felt some of my own intelligence spilling out along with it and evaporating in the scented air.
“We’re here all the time,” Trev boasted. “Never miss one.”
I glanced around as if making sure no one was listening, and then I leaned forward to talk in a lower voice. “I heard that he was here at the last party. That man they found dead a few weeks ago.”
Jordie and Trev looked momentarily confused, but Barton was nodding. “That’s right. Leffert. You remember, Trev, we talked to him for half an hour. I was shocked when I learned whose body had turned up over on the east side.”
“Leffert— Oh, you mean the fellow who kept going on about his horse? That’s who got killed? I didn’t realize that.”
“I didn’t put it together, either,” said Jordie. “Well, that’s a damn shame. He seemed like a nice enough fellow.”
“What was he like?” I asked with the slightly gruesome eagerness of someone fascinated by the horrible things that happen to other people.
Barton shrugged. “Oh, you know. Seemed like the type who would fling himself headlong into anything. Kept talking about his horse, and how he’d be willing to take on any comer in a race. I saw him go into the card room and bet a roll of coins on a bad hand. That sort of thing. I’d guess he was reckless in everything else he did, too.”
“Well, if he was hanging around in Sweetwater at night, you could hardly get any more reckless than that,” said Jordie.
“What else did he talk about?” I wanted to know. “I mean—here he is, he doesn’t know he’s going to die in a few days. I keep wondering what his last words were.”
Trev looked like he was cudgeling his brain, trying to come up with some detail that would please me. “I remember wondering if he was a little deeper in debt than he should have been, and if that was why he kept making those high wagers.”
“Why’d you think that?” Jordie asked.
“Because he was asking for the names of secondhand jewelers, don’t you remember? He said he wanted to buy, but I thought he was really looking to sell.”
“That’s right!” Barton exclaimed. “He wasn’t from Camarria, so he didn’t know the best places to go.”
I could think of a dozen, but I wasn’t sure which shops these lords were more likely to patronize. “I know where I would have told him to try,” I said. “Someplace off of Cheater’s Row, down by Amanda Plaza.”
“That’s what I said!” Trevor replied, pleased. “I’ve sold three rings there in the past six months.”
“Yes, but there’s got to be four jewelers on that one street,” Jordie complained. “Which one would you recommend?”
“Candleback’s,” Barton said without hesitation. “Always the best prices.”
Trev was nodding. “That’s what I told him. Don’t know if he went there, but he asked for directions.”
I sighed. “So he went in and sold his mama’s bracelet, maybe, and then just a few days later he was dead. It just seems so monstrous. And so sad!”
“We don’t want you thinking about sad things,” Trev said in a firm voice. “What can we talk about to cheer you up?”
I gave him a saucy smile, though I was really calculating how quickly I could exit the conversation now that I had discovered what I wanted to learn. “I don’t know! What would you like to talk about?”
Trev sidled a little closer and put his hand on my arm. My skin was bare and cool; despite the fact that he’d been out in the chilly dark for some time, Trev’s palm was feverishly warm. The effect of the “berry” Gina had sold him, no doubt. Some drugs could make you so hot you’d strip off all your clothes and run into a snowbank for relief. And die, of course, if there was no one nearby to rescue you from your stupidity.
“I’d like to talk about you,” he said. “What made you come here tonight? Are you having a good time? Do you think you’ll be back? Did you come with some friends or by yourself?”
As Trev spoke to me, Jordie and Barton drifted away, engaged in their own low-voiced conversation. Clearly, once Trev had signaled his intent to pursue me, they were leaving him a clear field.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare come alone to such a place!” I answered, edging away. He followed, giving my arm a squeeze. “Of course I’m with friends!”
Now Trev slipped his arm around my waist. He was so close that my shoulder pressed into his chest, and I could feel the heat radiating from his whole body. “Will they miss you if you stay out here for a while and talk to me?” he asked in a low voice, squeezing my arm again. “I’d like to learn more about you. Chezelle. I’d like to learn everything about you.”
