Chapter 35
We followed her into the room and discovered her abode was as gaudy as the clothes under her robe.
Random, brightly colored rolls of fabric covered the walls and swept onto the floor, creating a dozen different tripping hazards.
Pillows with beads, abstract flower designs, and foot-long tassels were strewn about the place.
A dozen portraits and sketches of our hostess hung on the walls, all crafted in flattering poses and with more than a few years docked from her face.
The portrait frames, pillows, and fabric were all decked out in rhinestones. The dull surfaces were a mockery of the true gemstones, and many of the pebbles had been so poorly glued that they dotted the ground like a riverbed.
Dolios dropped into a cushioned chair in front of a huge mirror. The mirror sat atop a long, deep vanity, and its top was covered in dozens of different bottles and canisters. A faint dusting of white powder covered much of the surface, even the half dozen brushes, tweezers, and mud masks.
She spun around to face us and waved her hand at me. “You may start whenever you please.”
I cleared my throat and sang one of Tim’s gentler tunes, a lullaby of sorts from one lover to another.
My voice caused the loose rhinestones to float up all around us.
I focused my attention on them, and they slowly began to turn.
Their smoothed surfaces glistened in the light from the chandelier above our heads, casting their wondrous light over the walls.
Theo gaped at the illuminations. “How magnificent.”
Dolios cast a more severe eye at my creations. “That’s enough.” I ceased my song, and the rhinestones softly dropped onto the fabric. The professional singer looked me up and down. “You have a very rare gift, girl. I’ve only ever heard of someone who could move objects just with their voice.”
“So I’ve heard,” I replied as I clasped my hands in front of me. “But I prefer to move people than objects.”
She fell back in her chair and scoffed. “Whatever moves the money, darling, otherwise, why do it?”
“For the love of the song, Miss Dolios,” Theo reminded her.
She cast an ugly look at the simping man at her side. “Nonsense. Without the coin, there wouldn’t be any point to this life.”
‘But your fans-”
“-are very nice, and very generous,” she mused as a smile curled onto her face. Her good humor faltered a little as she returned her focus to me. “But it’s a wonder I’ve never heard of you. Where did you train?”
I grasped my hands in front of myself and blushed. “Oh, um, I didn’t really get any formal training, but I have practiced a lot. My brother’s a musician, and he’d help me when my notes went astray.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “I see. Then it’s raw talent. You should get a coach.”
“I’m sure Miss Dolios would be glad to give you some advice,” Theo spoke up.
The aforementioned Miss Dolios didn’t look thrilled with that suggestion. “I have a very busy schedule, Theo, and don’t have time to take on proteges. This meeting itself has taken long enough.”
“Of course,” he agreed as he turned to us and gestured to the door. “If you’ll follow me.”
Theo led us out into the hall and gingerly closed the door behind our small group. He was all smiles as he faced us and clasped his hands in front of him. “Well? What do you think? Isn’t he magnificent?”
I leaned to one side to look past him and at the door. “She’s certainly something.”
“Something to be avoided. . .” Ramaro grumbled.
He bobbed his head. “Most definitely! Now, if you’ll allow me, I’ll lead you out.” He moved down the hall in the direction we had come.
“Why not the rear exit?” Marc wondered as he nodded at where the throat specialist had gone.
Theo’s face lost a bit of its color, and his clasped hands tightened their grip on one another. “Well, that is, that way is rather grotesque, and the door is locked. I wouldn’t want to accidentally leave it open and have Miss Dolios placed into danger by an overzealous fan.”
“I would like to see the hall again,” I spoke up.
Marc smiled at me, but there was a look in that bright blue eye that told me something was amiss. “Very well, but first let me change.” He took out his bottle of disguise juice and ingested. His appearance changed in a trice.
Theo squinted at him. “My goodness. Even the handkerchief is invisible. How do you make that one piece visible?”
“By touching it to water,” Marc explained.
Theo’s eyes widened. “Truly? May I see a demonstration?”
Marc shrugged. “I don’t have any on me.”
“But I do,” Theo revealed as he drew out a small flask. “I keep some around just in case Miss Dolios’s voice should need it.”
Marc took the flask and removed the invisible cloth from around his throat. He held both in different hands and poured a few droplets onto the cloth. His palm shimmered, and the handkerchief was soon revealed.
“Magnificent!” Theo applauded as he took back the flask. “Absolutely magnificent! I would expect no less from the professor!”
“If that’s all, we’ll show ourselves out,” Marc suggested as he tied the ribbon about his neck.
Theo backed up and bowed his head. “If you wish. Have a pleasant evening.”
Marc looped an arm around mine and led me outside. His grip was tight and slightly tense, but I didn’t speak up until we’d left the hall. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes darted over the deserted street. All of Mis Dolios’s fans had retreated to their homes to talk about their adventure with their idol. “I’m not-”
We had only gone a dozen steps when figures leaped out of the shadows around the hall. They were burly men in the rough attire of the Ironshores. They had already drawn their short swords and clubs, and their dark eyes warned me they weren’t here to give us directions.
Marc drew me behind him and smiled at the men. “What seems to be the problem, sirs?”
One of their number stepped to the forefront. “You’re coming with us, Pirate Torvus, along with your companion.”
Marc laughed. “Me? Torvus?”
The men closed in on us while their leader narrowed his eyes at us. “Come along with us, or we’ll make you.”
“I’ll opt for the second option.”
The men lunged at him, and a fight ensued. Light burst out from Marc’s left eye, and his disguise shattered. He used his arms to block their blows, and the metal blades clanged off the scales that covered his limbs.
This wasn’t some half dozen Ironshores caught by surprise. These two dozen men were well-trained and serious. Marc had a hard time dodging and parrying their blows.
And I was a liability. I backed away from the main group and opened my mouth to try to help, but I bumped into something. An arm looped around my waist, and I froze when I felt the cold barrel of a pistol pressed against my temple.
My captor’s cold voice cut through the fight. “Stop fighting us, or the woman has her brain fried, and getting a whisperquill shot to the head isn’t going to make her any prettier.”
I stiffened. That’s what was against my temple. One of those terrible weapons.
Marc spun around to face me and froze. His bright eye settled on the man at my back. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched him assess the situation.
Then his arms dropped to his sides, and he stood straight. The rest of the Ironshores piled on top of him, and one of them clamped a collar around his neck.
Marc turned his head to and fro, and a coy smile slipped onto his lips. “I think you got the wrong size. This feels a little loose.”
One of the Ironshores punched him in the cheek. The force behind the attack snapped Marc’s head to one side. Marc whipped his head back and glared at him.
The man massaged his fist in his other hand as he grinned at Marc. “Try and get out of it, and the woman gets a shot to the head.” Marc’s ire wasn’t subdued, but his eye did flicker to me.
The man shoved him own the street. “Get moving. We’re going to show you the inside of our new jail, built just for you.”
We were shoved around the far corner of a nearby street, where a caged carriage awaited us. The men stopped us at the open rear doors, and two of their number began to search Marc. They removed an arsenal of daggers, rope, chains of keys, and a lockpicking kit.
One of the men caught his leader’s attention and nodded at me. “What about the woman?”
“Search her, too.”
The Ironshore had an eager look on his face as he stalked toward me. Too eager. I shrank back, but he grabbed my arm.
That’s when Ramaro shot out of my coat and clamped his jaws down on the man’s forearm. The man screamed and stumbled back, flailing his arm to no avail. Ramaro was stuck.
“Get a cage!” their leader shouted.
Another man grabbed me and pulled me aside. A cage was procured from the wagon, and Ramaro was pried off the Ironshore. He tried to latch onto a new arm, but they tossed him into the heavy metal cage. The wounded man bled everywhere, despite the best efforts to patch up the wound.
“Get him on the wagon and get them to the prison!” the leader snapped.
The wounded man grabbed the cage from his compatriot and tossed it into the wagon, where it struck the front wall. Ramaro was thrown about in the rough landing and landed limp on the bottom of the cage. “That’s what you get for biting me!”
Marc and I joined Ramaro inside the wagon, where we were directed to sit on opposite benches, and the vehicle soon rolled down the road, leaving some of my courage behind us.