Chapter 23
I blinked at him. “Come again?”
He turned around and leaned his lower back against the railing. “Unless you think you’re too tired.”
“I might be because I swear you just said you wanted to go be among high society.”
Marc grinned. “You don’t want to see what the rich do in their spare time?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that, but why do you want to see it?”
He folded his arms over his chest and chuckled. “Nothing gives me greater pleasure than practicing my skills.”
“Your skills?”
“I’m a pirate. Being on land doesn’t change that.”
My eyes shot open as I realized what he meant. “You steal from them?”
“Among other things, so what do you say?”
I lifted an eyebrow, and my focus fell on the bandanna across half his face. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? Somebody might recognize you.”
Marc flashed me a grin. “It’s not safe, but it could be fun.”
“I’m not sure I’d enjoy stealing from someone, especially when they caught me.”
“If they did catch you, I’d break you out of prison.”
“Have you done that?”
“Many times.”
“In Cathair? With the Admiralty everywhere?”
“Do you doubt my skills?”
“No, I doubt the location.”
“Would you believe me if I told you I did escape from the dungeons of Cathair, not once but three times?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “How come they didn’t just execute you the third time? Or even the second?”
“Paperwork,” he explained as he scooted closer to me. “The Admiralty is insistent that everyone be processed and cataloged like books in a library.”
“Even when it comes to pirates?”
“Especially when it comes to pirates. The Admiralty wants nothing more than to brag to future prospective enlistees about their past captures. They can’t do that without some evidence, and the corpse might have rotted by then.
Besides, there’s another advantage to being among the preening of society,” he insisted as he stepped back and opened his arms. “You could learn quite a bit about curses by mingling with those rich enough to have someone draw their bath.”
My face drooped. “That doesn’t sound like something I want to know about. Besides, how are we going to pass as one of them?”
He reached into his overcoat and drew out a small vial. The glass container was shaped like a gourd with a long neck and a round belly. “Would you believe magic?”
I blinked at him. “What kind of magic could get us into a swanky party?”
“The kind that hides our true features so no one will know it’s us. They won’t know it’s us, and won’t know we’re not one of them.”
A question popped into my head. “If you could do that, why didn’t you hide yourself when we first came here?”
“Because the spell only lasts for a few hours and breaks very easily.”
A snort escaped me, and he gave me a curious look. I smiled and waved my hand. “I just remembered a story I was told as a kid, about a carriage that would turn into a pumpkin at midnight. Anyway, what will, um, break it?”
“Other magic and water.”
My face drooped. “Really? Why water?”
He popped the cork that was attached via a slim piece of string around the neck and tipped the mouth into his palm.
“Baba made this out of herbs, and water washes it off. If you get any one you, you’ll need another dose of it.
” A single drop of purple liquid fell into his palm. “Dip your finger in this and drink it.”
My eyes flickered between his palm and the holder. “You promise you’ll get me out of any trouble I find myself in? I don’t want to have to blow on the whistle Adrien gave me already.”
“The worst that could happen is you’re thrown out of their party,” he promised me.
I sighed and dipped my finger in the goo.
The magic was thick like cough syrup, and a distinct smell of garlic and salt tickled my nostrils.
I took a deep breath and wiped my finger across the tip of my tongue.
The goo tasted like an extra-tart herb. I puckered my lips, but managed to swallow the concoction.
My body tingled from head to foot. I looked down at myself and watched a shimmer of purple light start from my feet and travel up my body. My pulse quickened, and I lifted my chin like I was drowning. “Marc!”
“Just hold still,” he assured me as he poured out another droplet and licked the magic. “It’s just covering you in a layer of herbs to distort everyone’s view of what you really look like?”
I raised my hands to my face and watched the magic flow over me like waves over a sandy beach. “So will I be able to see what I look like?”
“Only in a mirror.” He drew his hair around and studied the strands. “Maybe this time I’ll be redheaded.”
“This time?”
“Every time Baba makes a new batch, the results are a little different because no herbs are exactly alike. One time, I was changed into a woman.”
My face drooped. “Please tell me that’s not what I’m looking like.”
“Well, you are definitely remaining a woman,” he assured me as he looked me over. “And quite a fetching one with raven black hair and pale skin.”
“Black hair?” I wondered as I drew forth one of my strands. My brown hair was indeed as black as night.
Marc tucked the vial away and spread out his arms. “What do you think of me?” I lifted my eyes and stared for a moment before I burst out laughing. He frowned and lowered his arms. “What is it?”
I pointed a shaking finger at him as my other arm wrapped around my jiggling stomach. “Y-you look like a middle-aged accountant.”
Indeed, gone were the rugged, handsome features of his sun-soaked occupation, along with the eternal youth-like appearance.
In their places was a man nearing fifty with a balding head of grayish hair and sallow skin that hung from his jowls like a dog.
His fingers were short and fat, his belly slightly pudgy, and his clothing was a bland suit.
I pressed my palm against the coarse clothing. The suit did feel real. “Wow.”
Marc studied himself with a smile. “I suppose I should be grateful. This is more likely to get us in than other disguises.”
“Why? Because the rich need an accountant?”
He grinned. “No, because I look simple enough to fleece into buying port contracts. An easy target is always welcome at parties. You on my arm will only add to the false picture.”
I blinked at him. “Me?”
He offered me his arm. “You prove that I have coin to throw around.”
I snorted and accepted his arm. “Stop the flattery and figure out where we’re going to go.”
“I already have a place in mind,” he assured me as he led me up the steps. “I overheard a table at Adrien’s mention a gala at the mansion of one of the shipping masters. He owns twenty ships and four houses, and rumor has it he has three wives.”
“He can’t have that many?”
He chuckled. “Not if his first wife finds out. He has all the wealth, and she has all the family blood. A scandal like that would ruin his connections.”
“Then why does he do it?”
He winked at me. “You’ll find out when you meet her. Now let’s go before we miss the party.”
We ventured through the darkened streets, where a few people meandered their own way home or to one of the many pubs.
Streetlights were few and far between, and many cast their light only beneath their curved necks.
Alleyways were wrapped in pitch black shadows where faint outlines appeared more as ghosts than the broken junk they really were.
We passed many of those long coffins, and I couldn’t help but stare into the void, wondering about the path untraveled.
I wouldn’t wonder about a particular one we passed.
The houses had taken on more distinguished appearances, with balconies on their second and even third floors, and luscious gardens out front filled with fruit trees and flowers.
Some had lit paths that led up to wrap-around porches grander than the most beautiful house in Rynek.
We passed one of the narrow alleys that divided a grand estate from another.
A long, slender, glove-covered hand shot out and grabbed my arm.
I yelped and jerked back, but they had a grip like iron.
My attacker wrenched me from Marc’s unprepared grasp and pulled me into the shadows.
Another gloved hand covered my mouth to stifle my scream as my back was pressed against a slender chest.
My kidnapper dragged my heels across the ground, and I heard his breath wheeze against the back of my ear.
I thrashed in the man’s hold, but his thin frame concealed a prodigious strength that moved us quickly down the alley.
Marc’s bright blue eye pursued us, and a faint glow came from the left side of his face.
His accountant persona shimmered like broken water.
My captor pulled me behind a stack of crates and tossed me against the stone wall of one of the houses.
He slammed his hand around my neck, pinning me to the stone as he held up his other hand in front of my face.
The person clutched a gold medallion in their fingers, the face of which they held out toward me.
A musical note was embossed on its surface, and a bright light came from the note.
The glow only worsened the closer the medallion came to my face, so much so that I had to shut my eyes to keep out the blinding light.
My own ruse flickered against such magic.
The person raised a gloved hand and cupped my cheek in his palm. The hand trembled.
The boxes that hid us were toppled with such force that they were thrown against the opposite wall. My captor fled, releasing me from their tight grip. My shaky legs buckled, and I dropped to the cold, wet ground.
Marc was at my side in an instant, the glow from under his patch casting enough light to reveal my pale hands to me. They lay in my lap, shaking like leaves in a hurricane. He grasped one of them in his hand and studied my face. “Are you alright?”
“I-I think so,” I whispered.
Marc scooted closer and drew me against his chest. “Can you tell me what happened?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It was that phantom again. He. . .he held up some sort of glowing medallion in front of my face. I think it had a musical instrument on the side. Then you knocked over the boxes, and he ran off.”
He pursed his lips. “Did you want me to carry you home?”
I snorted and eased myself onto my feet with not a little help from Marc. “No, I want to go somewhere with a lot of people and a lot of lights. That way, I can punch the next guy in the face.”
“I’ll do the honors,” he promised as he nodded at the mouth of the alley. “We’re only half a block from the party. Stay close.”
“Gladly.”