9. Benedetto
CHAPTER NINE
BENEDETTO
I stepped out of the carriage and surveyed the Tulliano Lucardi's mansion, a gilded monument to bad taste. It hulked above its gardens, looking simultaneously ostentatious and slightly embarrassed, as if the building itself knew it didn’t fit well in Legnali. The sprawling grounds to the sides and behind the building were a labyrinth of shrubs and marble decorations, every ostentatious feature a testament to the man's wealth and desire for acceptance.
While I’d never been here myself, I’d heard all the gossip as I gathered information on my target.
Lucardi’s father was a grain merchant, with a sideline in spices. He’d been lost with one of his ships when Lucardi was a boy, spurring the youth’s interest in the supernatural. Apparently, he wanted to communicate with the dead.
While he had no gift for magic, his ability to guess what to send where made him tremendous amounts of money, catapulting him to the upper echelons, who promptly turned their backs and ignored him.
Except when they wanted an investment or a loan, of course. He’d even been offered daughters of a few minor clans, but he had his eyes set high. He wanted his children born to the upper classes. Not a foolish ambition, though most of the great houses denied him on principle.
The information I’d gathered about him made me reluctant to kill him, my usual means of dealing with those who dabbled in forbidden magic. I’d simply take the books and walk away.
The pebbled walkway leading to the house glittered in the torchlight. I stooped and picked up a stone. A small amethyst. Lucardi must have ordered small gems scattered in with the regular stone.
I didn't envy the servant whose duty would be to retrieve them at the end of the night.
The flickering light made the intricate carvings adorned the mansion's exterior almost come alive. They depicted the story of the first emperor’s conquest of Kalion. By the main doors, a blaze of golden lanterns hung from delicate chains, their bright light a beacon.
The noise of laughter and conversation drifted out the door, mixing with the scent of wax and perfumes. The masked servant manning the door bowed to me as I approached.
I adjusted my silver-filigree mask. Time to do the required frivolous conversation and perhaps a dance before I got on with my task.
As I entered the grand ballroom, my senses were assaulted by dazzling excess. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, their facets scattering light from miniature magical suns hung within them. The light was brighter than day in this room.
Near the wall, one musician turned his head, exposing the sweep of a pointed ear. Lucardi had hired fey to provide the music. This event that would be remembered; the man must have traded many favors for such a rare event. The fey did not often favor mortals with their music.
What had he traded for it? Suspicion, my constant companion, reared its head.
The lively melody playing made even my feet itch to dance. Laughter echoed from every corner as costumed guests in elaborate masks twirled across the polished marble floor. The air inside was even thicker with mingled scents of perfumed silks, spiced wine, and naked ambition.
I’d bribed one of the servants to find out where he kept his collection and found to my surprise, he simply put them in the library, even his newest acquisition.
I scanned the room, marking the exits. Where might be a good path to slip out and find my way to the second floor and the library. Where might be a method for a quick exit if I had to kill someone in this room.
It paid to plan your escape route before you needed it.
I turned an instant before a hand gripped my arm. A familiar face, half-hidden behind a mask of burnished gold, was attached to the hand, saving him from my usual response.
"Benedetto, old friend!" Dario's grin was wide, but his eyes held a warning. "Enjoying the festivities?"
I forced a smile. "As much as one can."
Dario leaned in close, his voice low. "Careful, Bene. The emperor's eyes are everywhere tonight. You know how it is, being third in line and all that. A murder last night doesn't do much for anyone's sense of security."
“What murder?” I asked.
He leaned in closer. “You just moved up to fifth in line, Aurelius d’Orazio drowned last night during a pleasure outing when the ship sank in a sudden storm. Everyone is saying the storm wasn’t natural.”
"I wasn’t aware," I said, my tone clipped.
Dario continued, undeterred by my tone. "And people started talking about your wife's sister yesterday. Word is her governess is one of Soulrider’s apprentices. Which is strange, since she’s old and fat, not gorgeous like the others I’ve seen. Keep an eye out, friend. Make sure you know exactly who’s in your bed, and hers." He punctuated his words with a wink.
I clapped him on the shoulder, my grip perhaps a bit too tight. "Thank you for the warning, Dario. I'll keep it in mind."
I made my excuses and slipped back into the crowd, my mind racing. Luna's sister, being taught by one of Soulrider’s apprentices? It meant she had a real talent and could one day be a dangerous player in the game. Had my mother known about the talent before the wedding?
Of course not. The girl would not have been born yet when Luna and I had married, Luna had been but a babe. I’d found out from my mother later that she hadn’t known until she was delivered to our home.
I had been aware, since I was ten, though it had never been important to me. The dessert afterward was more memorable than the ceremony.
My wife’s relative was a problem for another time. Tonight, I had to focus on the task at hand. I scanned the room, my eyes searching for familiar faces, for any sign of weakness or opportunity.
In a world like this, information was power. And I intended to seize as much of it as I could before I exited here with the book.
The musical set ended, dancers retreating to their clumps of friends and relations. With a portion of the floor cleared, my attention snagged on a figure standing near a gilded mirror—a striking red-haired woman in emerald silk. The fabric shimmered as she shifted her weight, catching the light and throwing it back in brilliant flashes. Her mask was a delicate creation of silver filigree, accentuating her bright, piercing eyes.
There was something about her—her posture, the tilt of her head—that struck a chord of familiarity.
Curiosity burned in my veins. Who was she?
I approached her, cutting off another man with the same idea. Close enough to speak, her perfume was something floral and intoxicating. I bowed slightly, the gesture both respectful and intimate.
"You seem out of place," I said softly, my voice low enough that it barely carried beyond her. "Like a jewel among pebbles. A vixen among chickens."
She regarded me, tilting her head, the movement fluid and deliberate. "Is that so?" Her tone was light, but there was a sharpness to it, a challenge hidden just underneath the words. "And what does that make you, I wonder?"
I let a smile curve my lips. "A man who knows value when he sees it."
"Value?" She laughed, the sound sweet as silver bells. "You speak as if I'm a horse or a dog."
I took a step closer, drawn to that flash of fire. "Forgive me. I meant no offense. You’re very unlike the majority of women I’ve spoken with at these events."
She tilted her head, studying me through the filigree of her mask. "I believe you’re the fourth man who’s told me that this evening."
"Ah, but I mean it," I replied, amused.
"I think every one of you meant it, without considering the logical conclusion." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "That, perhaps, I am unique."
I felt a thrill run through me. This woman, whoever she was, was no ordinary court flower. She wasn’t afraid of me in the slightest.
"Then we have something in common," I said, offering my arm. "Dance with me."