Читать книгу The Last Suitor - A J McMahon - Страница 8

FOUR

The Introduction of Mr Nicholas Raspero

to Lady Isabel Grangeshield

12:00 PM, Thursday 5 May 1544 A.F.

Nicholas surveyed the battlefield as his grandfather had taught him to do in order to check whether everything was now as indeed over as it appeared to be — all six wands of his beaten and bound opponents clasped in his left hand, his right hand still bearing his wand in combat readiness. Everyone present in the square was staring at him with their mouths hanging open; Nicholas ignored them with a patrician disdain as the way they all stared at him and stared and stared and stared showed them to all be creatures clinging to a lower rung of creation.

Leggit and his men awaited events, not fearful of consequences as they were under Jolly’s protection, their only complaint being the loss of the bonuses they would have gained had they defeated Nicholas.

Tagalong held himself at the ready, his mind turning around itself like a complicated machine, waiting his moment to speak, following the progress of Nicholas’s thoughts as they were reflected on his face.

When he saw that Nicholas was thinking about wrapping everything up so he could move on, Tagalong said to him, ‘I cannot thank you enough, sir, for the assistance which you have rendered me today. May I have the honour of knowing your name?’

‘Introductions are by third party,’ Nicholas told him curtly and turned away.

Tagalong was nothing if not inventive. ‘Sir, I demand satisfaction!’

Nicholas turned back with a look of surprise. ‘What is the offence?’

‘You have refused to tell me your name in a situation which over-rides the bonds of courtesy. I am Mr Taggart Longman, and I demand satisfaction for this offence.’

Nicholas sighed in exasperation. ‘I am Mr Nicholas Raspero and I accept your challenge. What form of duel do you choose?’

‘First Combat.’

‘When and where?’

‘Here and now.’

‘Hang on!’ Leggit said angrily. ‘What about us?’ Leggit’s point seemed to be that as he and his men were bound hand and foot and lying on the ground, their predicament took priority over all else, including this duel.

‘What about you?’ asked Nicholas indifferently.

‘You gonna untie us or what?’ Leggit wanted to know.

‘Do you plan to resume hostilities upon regaining your freedom?’ Nicholas asked.

Leggit frowned. He didn’t understand what the word resume meant.

Seeing his difficulty, Tagalong stepped in. ‘I am sure that if you assure this gentleman that our quarrel is over, he will release you from your bonds and peace and goodwill shall prevail over all. All you have to do is to say you are satisfied with everything.’

As far as Leggit was concerned it was time to move on. He had tried and failed to take down Nicholas; there was nothing more to be said about anything. ‘All right, I got no problems with nothing,’ he growled.

Nicholas waved his wand to untie their karn-bonds and flipped their wands back through the air to hang in front of Leggit and his men. They did not notice, being very unintelligent, that he sent each individual wand correctly back to its owner, but Tagalong did. Leggit and his men clambered to their feet, folding up and tucking away their karns, and pocketing their wands; Nicholas watched them do this, wand in hand, and although his wand was pointing downwards it was understood by all those present from the expression on Nicholas’s face that if they were to fight again Nicholas would not let them off so lightly a second time. Leggit and his men turned away, giving Nicholas unfriendly looks before departing the scene.

Nicholas and Tagalong had their duel. Nicholas took Tagalong down three times in succession like the ticks of a clock. Once Tagalong said that he had received satisfaction, he followed this by saying, ‘Now that we have been introduced, allow me to thank you for your assistance today, Mr Raspero.’

Nicholas laughed, realising then the trick Tagalong had played. ‘It was nothing, Mr Longman.’

‘Surely you will allow me to thank you in a manner far more substantial than merely spoken gratitude. Please allow me to take you out for lunch, my good Mr Raspero.’

Nicholas considered this invitation while he appraised the figure of Tagalong standing before him. Tagalong was a tall, slender man with curly brown hair, a freckled face, dark violet eyes and long thin fingers; a spirit of animation possessed him, as if winds gusted about within the hollows of his body making him hum like a tree on a windy cliff. Nicholas sensed at first sight, for he was a good judge of character, that Tagalong was dodgy and untrustworthy but nonetheless he saw no reason why he should not serve as a luncheon companion.

‘As it happens, Mr Longman, I have two luncheon vouchers for the Hortense Inn,’ Nicholas said, waving vaguely over his shoulder at the Hortense Inn, ‘so perhaps you might join me for lunch.’

Tagalong raised his mobile eyebrows in surprise as if he was learning of these luncheon vouchers for the first time, and said, ‘But I will now be doubly in your debt, Mr Raspero, both for saving me from those who would do me harm and in feeding me. Very well, Mr Raspero, I accept your kind invitation but on one very strict condition: you must allow me to repay in triplicate your doubled kindness when such a singular occasion shall arise.’ Tagalong paused and then exclaimed, ‘No!’ while holding both hands up in the air palms out as if to stop a runaway horse in its tracks, even though Nicholas had not moved a muscle, ‘you cannot deny me in all propriety and duty such a demand as this, which indeed is not even a demand as it does no more than merely express an inevitable consequence.’

‘All right,’ Nicholas said briefly, his face expressionless, ‘fine, you do all that then. Let’s go.’ With that he turned away and set forth for the Hortense Inn, followed by Tagalong.

The Hortense Inn was owned secretly by Jolly, and the staff had been instructed to give Tagalong and whatever companion he turned up with the best service they could. So it was that Nicholas found himself fawned over by professionals in the fawning business. It was a new experience for him. Most people took one look at his clothes and entirely failed to fawn. The staff at this restaurant seemed to think that they would remember the day they met him for the rest of their lives.

‘So what was that all about?’ Nicholas asked Tagalong, without much real interest.

‘I have alas incurred a debt which I cannot repay at present,’ Tagalong told him truthfully, and then continued less truthfully, ‘Those men were after repayment of that debt on behalf of a man called Fitzroy, to whom I owe the money.’

‘Well, good luck with all that,’ Nicholas told him. ‘If I’d known that was what it was about, I wouldn’t have helped you.’

‘You must understand,’ Tagalong told him, ‘I incurred this debt because of my Aunt Mamie’s substantial medical expenses.’

‘Even so,’ Nicholas said, not looking as if he believed one word of this story, ‘you can’t incur a debt and not repay it.’

‘That is quite so, Mr Raspero. I will repay this debt. I am just slightly late about it, that’s all.’

‘Whatever,’ Nicholas shrugged indifferently.

Throughout the lunch Tagalong was witty, charming, clever, funny and talkative, and Nicholas could not help but enjoy himself. He was too young not to be flattered by the attentions Tagalong was paying him, especially as Tagalong was an expert name-dropper who gave the impression of knowing everyone in town, an impression that was too shrouded by good humour and amusing anecdotes to be clearly discernible as largely a matter of implication. Nicholas laughed along with Tagalong, enjoyed the superb meal, drank two or three glasses of a very tasty wine which went to his head as he was not used to drinking and found the world to be a merry place. By the end of lunch, Nicholas was ready for anything.

‘Are you going to the engagement party of Mr Carver and Lady Lachance tonight?’ Tagalong asked him as they sat enjoying their coffee and delicious chocolate rolls topped with coconut.

‘No.’

‘And why not?’ Tagalong asked him with a mock sternness which made Nicholas laugh.

‘The lack of an invitation is my only excuse,’ Nicholas said wittily so that Tagalong roared with laughter which made Nicholas himself laugh proudly at his triumph.

‘That is easily remedied,’ Tagalong told him. ‘I have myself been invited and I am allowed to take a companion with me. Surely you would do me the honour of accompanying me?’

Nicholas was ready for anything, and this sounded good. ‘Certainly, Mr Longman, I’m happy to accept. What’s this party again?’

So Tagalong told him all about the engagement of Mr Hedley Carver and Lady Sofiya Lachance, with allusion to some mildly scandalous gossip which made them both laugh cheerfully. Nicholas realised that he was on his way to a party where the grandest people in New Landern would be gathered together, about twelve hundred of them or so, in the Regana Palace. It sounded good to him and he was excited at the prospect of being at such a party.

Tagalong had drunk much less than he had pretended to, and his merriness was largely feigned, but Nicholas didn’t notice. Tagalong’s mind was turning over, thinking everything through, improvising as he went along. His instructions from Jolly were to find out just how good Raspero was with a wand. That meant more than wandfighting; that meant other kinds of wand use. Tagalong’s intention was to see if Raspero could break them in to the Regana Palace. Given that the Royal family would turn up, the security there would be as tight as security could be. If Raspero could get them in, he could do anything. Tagalong understood that Jolly did not yet know whether Raspero would be an asset or a liability: if Raspero signed up for Jolly, a man of his calibre could be very useful indeed to Jolly; if Raspero refused to work for Jolly, well, Tagalong knew that Jolly would not be pleased. Tagalong’s job was to find out just how much of an asset or an enemy Raspero would be.

Tagalong realised he had to stay close to Raspero all day long. So as they left the restaurant at around two o’clock, he suggested that they go to Kenina Park. He asked Nicholas if he could do the Three and Nicholas said yes quite calmly. The Three was an exercise in the use of the wand requiring talent far beyond the ordinary and those wandfighters who could do the Three constituted an elite. Tagalong believed him but he wanted to see it for himself. His luck was out, however, the Table was closed for the day because of a mourning period for the recently deceased Keeper of the Rolls. Filing it away as a matter to be returned to later, Tagalong suggested they go visit some nearby friends of his. Using code words that told them he was on important business for Jolly, his “friends” received them with such cheer and goodwill, and a glass or two of wine along with earthy tasting cakes, that Nicholas found himself laughing merrily at very little at all. He could not remember when he had last had such a good time or been in such excellent company.

In the midst of his merriment, a warning suddenly came to his mind, some advice given to him by his grandfather, never drink too much in the company of people you don’t know. So it was that Nicholas woke up to himself and refused all offers of more drink. He declared that he would take a walk. Tagalong thought this was an excellent idea, so leaving Tagalong’s “friends” behind them, they strolled down to the river. It was now about five-thirty, Nicholas thought, judging from where the sun was in the sky. As if asking himself the same question, Tagalong looked at his watch and declared that it was twenty past five. They would need to make their way to the party soon, Tagalong suggested. So they started to make their way across town.

Now came the time that Tagalong had been gearing himself up for ever since Nicholas had accepted his invitation to the party. He used the time spent walking to the party to reinforce the impression that attending a party such as this was a regular occurrence for him. Nicholas was sobering up, but he was still too much under the influence of everything he had drunk, and perhaps also eaten, such as those earthy tasting cakes, to be aware that the words Tagalong were speaking were forming nets through his mind that dragged his beliefs where Tagalong wanted them to go. By the time they were halfway to the Regana Palace, Nicholas had no doubt whatsoever that his newfound acquaintance had been handed his invitation to this party personally by a close friend of the fiancé Lady Lachance. Furthermore that Tagalong’s attendance at the party was crucial for this close friend to speak to Tagalong about a matter of personal concern to them both. Tagalong made it clear that a gentleman could not speak of matters that were personal and private, but given his affection for Nicholas, he could at least hint that his personal happiness was at stake, and he was sure that Nicholas would understand what he was saying without the necessity of saying anything more. Nicholas’s critical faculties were too dulled by drink, let alone those cakes, for him to doubt anything Tagalong was saying. By the time they had reached the Regana Palace, Nicholas understood that Tagalong had to attend this party as a now or never moment in his life concerning his future happiness. It was round about six-thirty and the warm evening was still golden with sunlight.

Tagalong paused and reached into his robe. He hunted about inside his robe, a growing look of consternation spreading across his face. He was looking desperately through all his pockets, turning them inside out, frantically going through pockets he had already gone through. Tagalong groaned and sank to the ground with his head in his shaking hands. It was a performance Angela Ashton would have approved of, and Nicholas was completely taken in.

‘What’s the matter?’ Nicholas asked.

‘My party invitation, it’s gone,’ Tagalong said, his voice muffled. He stood up, a wild look in his eyes. ‘It’s gone! Leggit took it. I remember now. He made me empty my pockets. Then you came along and I forgot about it because of our duel. Oh God! What am I going to do?’

‘Where’s Leggit now?’

‘He could be anywhere. I’m never going to find him now.’

‘Leggit can’t come here using your invitation, can he?’

Tagalong shook his head again. ‘No, it’s by invitation with a spoken code word to go along with it. But what am I going to do?’

‘Tell the doorkeeper your name, he’ll check the list and let you in.’

Tagalong shook his head yet again. ‘This party doesn’t work that way. You show your invitation and speak your code word and only then do you go in. You have to have your invitation.’

‘Try your code word.’

‘No, the code word has to match the invitation. Otherwise, someone could just steal your invitation and make up a code word and try their luck.’

‘Bad luck,’ Nicholas said sympathetically. He was disappointed himself that he wasn’t going to attend this party, but he accepted that this was now his fate without complaint. That was just how life worked out sometimes. What could you do?

‘It’s more than bad luck, Mr Raspero,’ Tagalong said with a desperate look on his face. ‘It is a crushing blow of fate, that’s what it is.’ Tagalong looked towards the Regana Palace. ‘Once I’m in I’ll be fine. Lady Lachance herself could vouch for me, she knows that this lady and I have an understanding. But no-one could get in. There’s no way past that security. No-one could get through. No-one at all.’

Nicholas was young enough to take this as a challenge. He took out his wand and contemplated the Regana Palace thoughtfully, making movements through the air with his wand. ‘I could get us in,’ he said calmly.

Seeing that his bait had been taken, Tagalong made sure the fish bit harder on it. ‘There’s no-one who could get past that security, Mr Raspero. No-one at all. I appreciate your offer but to tell the truth I can’t deny that I am a little bit upset by your behaviour. To make a false claim such as this when this is all so important to me is, well, it’s cruel, Mr Raspero. I must say, well, I won’t, you helped me today but you’re making boasts that you can’t fulfill if you will excuse me speaking so frankly. I am only speaking this frankly because this is all so important to me. I would ask you out of consideration for my feelings, not to make any more boasts of this nature.’

Nicholas turned and looked at him. ‘I’ll get us in, but on two conditions. The first is that you ask me no questions, the second is that you tell no-one about what I have done. I require you to give me your word that you accept these conditions.’

‘I accept these conditions, Mr Raspero,’ Tagalong agreed promptly. ‘You have my word.’ He’d stopped paying attention to any sense of honour years ago, so he had no hesitation in falsely swearing.

‘Let’s go,’ Nicholas said. ‘Stick close to me and do what I say.’

It was getting on toward seven o’clock, and still light, although the light was starting to fade. Nicholas led Tagalong down a side street to the palace. There was a side door that was so heavy with wand protection it had only two Force Nine guards standing before it, and even they were merely excessive given the wand protection involved. This entrance was reserved for the Royal Family itself, so no-one else was using it. The Royal Family had already arrived, at which time there had been close to a whole company standing around. The Force Nine guards were the elite, so despite knowing that their roles were merely decorative, they stood alert and at attention. Once out of their sight Nicholas waved Tagalong to a stop.

Knowing that Jolly would want a full report on everything that happened, Tagalong tried to pay close attention to what Nicholas was up to, but the following sequence of events happened so fast that only the outcome found a clear place in Tagalong’s memory. Nicholas was waving his wand through the air with an absorbed look on his face, clearly making a series of calculations, then Tagalong found himself being thrown through the air closely behind the figure of Nicholas, who was moving through the air equally fast. The two Force Nine guards were also moving through the air, but upside down and into the neighbouring shrubbery; before they had hit the ground Nicholas and Tagalong were at the side door they had been guarding. Nicholas had the door open and was through it, pulling Tagalong after him and closing the door behind him, all without setting off the alarm, before the two guards had even finished rolling back to their feet.

The highly trained guards, their wands held in combat readiness, angrily looked around them for the source of their downfall. It seemed to have been some kind of prank, but there was no-one to be seen anywhere around. They were too well-trained to leave their post to go looking around so they resumed their guard duty, still angry, but also uncertain. After some time, they both agreed to let the matter go and not report it, given that whatever it had all been about, the security of the palace had not been compromised.

Nicholas and Tagalong were in a hallway with doors to the sides. The hallway led to an open door beyond which could be seen a marble-floored reception area. Nicholas opened the door to his right and led Tagalong in.

An awe-struck Tagalong understood just what Nicholas had done. That side door had been densely woven with a wand protection that Nicholas had simply cut through in an instant, and without setting off an alarm; what Nicholas had just done simply couldn’t be done. ‘How did you do that?’ he whispered, for once expressing an unpremeditated thought.

Nicholas gave him a hard look. ‘You gave me your word, no questions.’

He looked so fierce that Tagalong woke up to himself. ‘My apologies, Mr Raspero. It is just —’

‘Whatever,’ Nicholas said with a dismissive gesture of his left hand. He led the way across the room they were in to a door at the side. The door was closed and Nicholas gestured to Tagalong to wait.

Tagalong watched Nicholas. He was using his wand to search the space beyond the door. Nicholas opened the door enough to put his wand through. Tagalong guessed that he was practising macchato. Nicholas waved his wand, there was a yell which shifted in tone as if the person who was yelling was rapidly moving through the air. Nicholas stepped through the door, gesturing for Tagalong to follow him. Above them was a spiral staircase, and Nicholas was up above Tagalong’s head in a moment, and Tagalong suddenly found himself plucked upwards and set down beside Nicholas. Gesturing to Tagalong to crouch down, Nicholas led the way up the staircase. The top of the stairs was cordoned off with a red cord and Nicholas briskly stepped over this cord and Tagalong followed. They were just in time, for as they started walking along the wide corridor they had climbed up to via the stairs, a party of laughing merrymakers came their way, paying them no attention. They made their way along the corridor and down another flight of stairs. Merrymakers were all around them now, laughing and carrying on and talking and having pretend battles. The party was gathering momentum and soon it would be in full swing. They were now guests at the engagement party of Mr Hedley Carver and Lady Sofiya Lachance, in appearance at least, and given the nature of these circumstances, appearances were all that were needed.

7:00 PM, Thursday 5 May 1544 A.F.

Isabel was with ‘The Gang’ at the engagement party of Mr Hedley Carver and Lady Sofiya Lachance. They had discussed the matter of Breckenridge’s proposal with varying degrees of agreement and disagreement with Isabel’s refusal of this proposal.

‘Really, you are being impossible, Izzy,’ Miss Uliana Newman said briskly. ‘If you are going to turn down a suitor of the calibre of Brecky, who on earth are you ever going to accept?’

‘He’s really not bad looking,’ said Miss Penelope “Penny” Earlson reflectively with a far-away look in her eyes. ‘And he’s very rich.’

‘So’s Izzy,’ Miss Kora Pryor pointed out. ‘She doesn’t need to marry for money.’

‘She does need to marry, though,’ Uliana observed. ‘Or is it your intention to never marry, Izzy?’

‘I will marry in my own time,’ Isabel declared. ‘Arabella didn’t marry until she was twenty-five, and look at how many suitors she had.’

‘You are not going to wait that long until you marry, surely?’ Mr Berg Irving asked.

‘Izzy’s point was that she could wait, not how long she would wait,’ Miss Sophie Nicholson told him.

‘But what is it that you are waiting for?’ Uliana wanted to know. ‘True love?’

Everyone laughed at the way she said this except Penny. ‘Of course she is,’ Penny said, looking at Isabel for support, ‘aren’t you, Izzy?’

‘Certainly not!’ Isabel snapped scornfully. ‘Any man who will do will be perfectly satisfactory as a husband. I am waiting for when the time is right, that is all.’

‘The time is never right, Izzy, only the man is,’ Sophie said with an air of wisdom. ‘The time will only be right when the right man comes along.’

‘First you say the time is never right then you say it is only right when such-and-such has happened,’ Isabel rebuked her. ‘Am I to abandon logic in order to be married?’

‘Logic has nothing to do with it,’ Penny decreed. ‘Of course you should abandon logic.’

‘Or better still, ignore it from the beginning,’ Uliana suggested, ‘and look only to love.’ The Gang knew Uliana well enough to see that she was in one of her contrary moods, saying the opposite of what she believed.

‘Albert was telling me about the Guardians of the Hidden Flame,’ Miss Samantha Clemens told them. Albert was her piano teacher. ‘They believe that only love which is hidden in the depths of the heart is true love. If you declare your feelings then your love is immediately degraded into mere sentiment just as the snow turns to sludge. Your love only remains true if it remains secret and the highest expression of your hidden love is to die from your longing for the beloved who can never be attained.’

‘Do these Guardians of the Hidden Flame tend to die off in noticeable numbers themselves?’ Uliana asked sardonically. Her pragmatic soul was offended by this kind of talk. ‘Or do they fail to follow through?’

Even Penny, always the champion of eternal romance, appeared unconvinced by the philosophy of the Guardians of the Hidden Flame. ‘Where is love if lovers are not united?’ she objected. ‘What is the point of that?’

‘Brecky’s feelings were sludge from the beginning,’ Isabel observed, ‘even before he declared them.’ It would be a while before she tired of making anti-Brecky comments whenever possible. ‘The only love that man has is for himself.’

‘There is no love but self-love,’ Kora declared grandly. She had taken up reading one of the more pessimistic philosophers lately in order to impress a young man she had recently met. ‘Our motivations in life are two-fold: fear, which is the avoidance of pain, and pleasure, which is to exercise our self-love by the pretence of caring for others.’ Kora paused there as if for further reflection, but, in fact, she was only wondering if she had got it right so far.

‘You forget a third motivation, Kora,’ Uliana added, who never passed up a chance to be witty, ‘and that is to acquire the wisdom of a philosopher.’

The Gang chuckled.

‘Yes, the philosophers always overlook themselves, do they not?’ Berg agreed. ‘It is that they are modest, I think.’

The Gang chuckled again.

‘Oh goodness, are we discussing philosophy?’ Sophie complained. ‘At a party?’

‘What can we be thinking?’ Uliana agreed. ‘Let us live!’ She said this so loudly that everyone jumped and then giggled with the shock of having been so startled.

There seemed to be little more to say. Shortly after this, The Gang set out into the depths of the party to seek excitement, diversion, amusement, witty comments and even, perhaps, true love.

7:00 PM, Thursday 5 May 1544 A.F

Tagalong had now found out all that he needed to tell Jolly. Nicholas was something else, and that was what Jolly had wanted to know. He realised that he had to ditch Nicholas at the first possible opportunity. Even someone as naïve as Nicholas would wonder why Tagalong knew so few people when he had given the impression that he knew practically everybody who was here. But how could he part company with Nicholas right here and now?

‘My friends call me Tagalong,’ Tagalong said.

‘How nice for you,’ Nicholas said drily. ‘I will call you Mr Longman.’

Tagalong decided this wasn’t enough for a quarrel. His ever restless and inventive mind devised a new strategy on the spot.

‘Rule Number One: never arrive at a party on time,’ Tagalong then told Nicholas with an air of the superiority particular to “one of those who know”. Tagalong dove straight for a nearby table and acquired drinks for them both. Nicholas had barely sipped his drink before Tagalong had guzzled his down and was off for another.

He brought another drink for Nicholas, holding one in each hand, but when Nicholas shook his head Tagalong shrugged, downed one drink in three swallows and put down the empty glass. He leaned towards Nicholas and said, ‘Rule Number Two: get drunk as fast as possible.’

‘I’m learning so much from you today,’ Nicholas said with grateful admiration.

‘Don’t mention it,’ Tagalong replied graciously. He might as well have genuinely not noticed Nicholas’s sarcasm.

‘Who can you introduce me to?’ Nicholas asked, the thought crossing his mind that his only acquaintance at this party might be incapacitated before long, just as Tagalong had intended him to think.

Tagalong looked about, humming as if making a selection, but shaking his head as he said, ‘Deadly bores, come on, we can do better than this lot.’ He led Nicholas off, and before long Tagalong spotted someone that he did know. He introduced Nicholas to Mr Boris Galan before having to discreetly leave to answer a call of nature; in this way he disappeared from Nicholas’s side, with every intention of avoiding Nicholas for the remainder of the evening. As he walked around he fought the temptation to engage in petty theft. He could have loaded up his pockets easily with valuable items that would equally easily net him several thousand strada, but he knew that Jolly would disapprove so he kept his light-fingered hands in his pockets.

‘Nice party,’ Nicholas said.

‘Yes,’ Mr Galan said coldly. A friend of Tagalong’s was not a friend of Boris’s, so Mr Galan had accepted the introduction with a cold politeness born of being a gentleman.

‘Everyone’s having fun,’ Nicholas added.

‘Yes,’ Mr Galan said coldly, looking around as if about to leave.

‘It’s always a happy occasion when two people decide to get married, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Yes, will you excuse me?’ Mr Galan left swiftly without looking back.

Nicholas walked around on his own, enjoying all the sights and sounds and merriment. He decided he had drunk more than enough that day so he drank nothing but fruit juice. He also made sure to eat plenty of the food in abundant supply on so many tables all over the palace. His sobriety was returning as the food soaked up the remaining alcohol in his system. It was an interesting experience being alone and knowing nobody on such a grand occasion. The palace was enormous and full of people. No-one paid him any attention at all. He might as well have been invisible.

He came across Mr Galan again talking to two men and went up to them, deciding to pretend not to notice that Mr Galan was cold-shouldering him. He greeted Mr Galan by name and looked at Mr Galan’s companions immediately afterwards. Mr Galan hesitated, but then decided not to take the hint. Seeing this, Nicholas asked, ‘Would you be so kind as to introduce me to your friends, Mr Galan?’

Mr Galan looked for a moment as if he was about to refuse but one of the men, seeing this, headed him off by saying, ‘Yes, Boris, would you be so kind as to introduce us?’

Mr Galan reluctantly introduced Nicholas to Mr Haldor Zarek and Mr Alain Eddison. This time Nicholas’s attempts to make conversation were received by something like a response, and so Nicholas chatted cheerfully to Mr Zarek while Mr Galan and Mr Eddison silently slipped away. There were merrymakers around them still, coming and going, and while talking to Mr Zarek and looking across upon hearing a blast of laughter to one side, Nicholas saw Isabel for the first time. She was dressed in a strapless scarlet gown streaked with lapis lazuli blue, her hair piled high on her head and held together by a variety of glittering gemstone fastenings. Her large breasts jutted forward, their cleavage encased in a scarlet lacery finery. Her face was round and full like the moon, her eyes large and brown, her eyebrows arched, her lips red and lustrous, and her skin pale as snow. Nicholas felt his stomach dissolve away into nothingness as he gazed upon her. Vaguely he was aware that he was making a spectacle of himself. Vaguely he was aware of someone to one side speaking to the girl; she looked over at him, looked back at her friend; they whispered together; the girl looked at him again, raised her fan to her face so only her eyes showed. He guessed she was giggling. Then with a sudden movement she had turned and was off like a startled deer racing through the forest, her friend chasing after her, both looking back at Nicholas and visibly laughing.

Nicholas looked about to see if anyone had noticed that he had just made a fool of himself, only to find Mr Zarek looking at him with an air of amusement.

‘Who was that girl?’ he asked. ‘The one in the red and blue gown?’

Mr Zarek looked at him with what might have been the kind of sympathy that follows amusement. ‘That was Lady Isabel Grangeshield.’

‘Lady Isabel Grangeshield,’ Nicholas repeated.

Mr Zarek then looked at him with what might have been the kind of sympathy which precedes compassion. ‘Not only is she the most beautiful woman in New Landern, but she is also in possession of a fortune of fifteen million strada.’

‘She must be popular,’ Nicholas commented.

‘Indeed,’ Mr Zarek replied.

‘Can you introduce me to her?’ Nicholas asked.

‘Unfortunately I do not have the honour of the lady’s acquaintance.’

‘Then what good are you then?’ Nicholas asked pleasantly.

‘It is without doubt a lamentable failing on my part, a failing which I can only bear as a burden in silence. I can only beg your pardon for that which I lack.’ There was a malicious undertone to Mr Zarek’s feigned apology as if he well understood that he was describing Nicholas’s condition, not his own.

Nicholas turned away. ‘Does this party have any other sight to compare with the vision of loveliness which I have just seen?’

‘I find that the bottom of a recently emptied glass can be a vessel of visions, but whether lovely or not can never be foretold, even by the brewers of such concoctions as may only then have been imbibed.’

‘You think I should get drunk because I can never have Lady Isabel Grangeshield on my arm?’ Nicholas asked.

‘I cannot say for sure, but I suspect it might not be the first time that such a development has occurred in the grand metropolis of New Landern. The causes of drunkenness in New Landern may be varied in nature, but a sufficiently insightful contemplative gaze might well identify the unattainable loveliness of Lady Isabel Grangeshield as one cause among those many varied causes of the drunkenness which the citizens of New Landern indulged in daily. More I cannot say. Not even the citizens of New Landern know everything that goes on here.’

‘I prefer to face misfortune sober,’ Nicholas said in reply. He turned and walked away from Mr Zarek without another word, feeling only that he had to be in motion and that walking would do him good.

The emptiness in his stomach had changed to an ache of loss. What he did not have had been taken away from him and he could feel the weight of this loss in the pit of his stomach, but he walked away from the place of his defeat thinking only of how to try to keep his face looking normal, as if in that way he might preserve what he still possessed.

8:30 PM, Thursday 5 May 1544 A.F

Isabel was standing looking over at Uliana and Berg, wondering whether to go and join them. As she was standing there, Mary Philips came up to her and whispered into her ear, ‘Izzy, look! Look! Look over there.’

Isabel looked in the direction Mary had indicated and immediately saw what her attention was being drawn to — a shabbily dressed man standing by the side of the room. He was a young man, her own age or so, staring right at her. He wasn’t moving a muscle, and looked directly at her, obviously not giving a thought to the way he was behaving.

‘You have an admirer, Izzy!’ Mary whispered into her ear. ‘Handsome and rich!’

The girls giggled as one. This young man was not at all handsome; in fact, he was very ordinary looking. And judging from the state of his clothes, he had only come to this party as the poor relation of one of the guests. Mary was being very witty, Isabel thought.

The girls looked again at the stranger. He was still standing there, his gaze fixed on Isabel as if he was entirely unaware of anything else but Isabel.

‘Izzy, run for it!’ Mary cried out and the girls ran for it, laughing merrily as they fled. Isabel looked behind her as she ran and saw that the stranger was still watching her as she departed the scene, turning around to follow her with his eyes.

9:30 PM, Thursday 5 May 1544 A.F

Nicholas felt more than ever that he was in the party but not of it. A growing sense of loneliness spread through him. It was only a matter of time before he left, he decided. It had been interesting for a while to be at a party where he knew no-one to talk to but the interest had faded by now. He liked new experiences, and this had been a new experience, but he was done with it now and he did not care to repeat it. The party was as loud as ever; everyone except for Nicholas was having fun. He went into a room where some men were sitting around a table, looking the worst for wear. He spotted Tagalong amongst them and walked over, deciding to chat briefly before leaving. He stood by the table where Tagalong could see him. Tagalong’s companions were talking, naturally enough, of wandlore, from which Nicholas assumed (correctly) that they had finished talking about women.

‘This man Raspero,’ Tagalong said, pointing to Nicholas with a wavering hand, clearly the worse for drink, ‘is a damn good wandfighter. He took down six of Fitzroy’s men like that,’ Tagalong continued, clicking his fingers, ‘and he can do the Three.’

Everyone looked at Nicholas with interest.

Nicholas said nothing.

‘Is that true? Can you do the Three?’ someone asked.

‘Yes,’ Nicholas said as if confirming his name.

There was silence, and then someone said, ‘And would you care to substantiate such a claim by a demonstration?’

‘There’s a table right here in Regana Palace,’ someone else added.

‘I am not a performing circus animal,’ Nicholas declared. ‘No, I am not going to do the Three just to satisfy your curiosity.’

‘Well, of course we believe you,’ someone else said sarcastically. ‘All you have to do is make this claim and we know it’s true.’

Nicholas looked hard at him. ‘If any of you accuse me of lying, I will demand satisfaction.’

‘Back off, all of you!’ Tagalong ordered, waving his hands in the air. ‘He took down six of Jolly’s men like that!’ He clicked his fingers in the air again. Nicholas wondered who Jolly was, when earlier it had been Fitzroy.

‘Perhaps we should provide an inducement of some kind,’ someone suggested. ‘Naturally we cannot expect you to perform such a feat for nothing. What prize would you deserve to receive for such a demonstration?’

Nicholas already knew without needing to think what prize he sought. Matters which reach from one side of your life to the other do not require thought. ‘If there is one among you who is acquainted with Lady Isabel Grangeshield, I will do the Three in return for an introduction to Lady Isabel Grangeshield.’

‘I know Lady Grangeshield,’ someone else present said.

Nicholas looked at Tagalong. ‘Can you introduce me to this gentleman?’

Tagalong could not conceal his delight that he could, having just received his own introduction ten minutes earlier. ‘Mr Boylent, may I present Mr Nicholas Raspero. Mr Raspero, may I present Mr Timothy Boylent.’

‘Mr Boylent, do you agree to introduce me to Lady Isabel Grangeshield if I do the Three?’ Nicholas asked.

Timothy shrugged. ‘Yes,’ he said casually. ‘Not a problem.’

‘All right,’ Nicholas said. ‘Let’s go.’ He was glad now that he had drunk nothing since the afternoon. He would need a clear head for this. Luckily the loneliness he had experienced earlier seemed to have resulted in a complete restoration of his sobriety.

They all trooped off to the rear of the palace, where there was a large wood-panelled room, hung with paintings and decorative swords. The table stood in the place of honour in the centre. Other people standing about came along to watch the show. Mr Odell Ralston tapped his wand on the button and the table whirred into action. Rings began to rotate around each other.

Nicholas went to one end of the table, took out his wand, lifted a disc from the three stacked in a red velvet-lined hollow, and waited. Mr Ralston tapped his wand on the hourglass and sand began trickling through the funnel.

Nicholas crouched, studying the rings. His task was to send the disc flying through the middle of the rings when they were lined up with each other sufficient to provide an opening for the disc to pass through. The difficulty was that the incessantly revolving, rotating and oscillating rings never seemed to provide such an opening.

Nicholas was a statue, not moving a muscle. Then he struck; the disc flew through the rings and sank into the wooden headboard, on the far side of the table. Nicholas took another disc; the sand continued to trickle; another disc went through the rings; he took the third disc; the silence in the room was palpable now; some of those present had never even seen the Three performed. Nicholas waited again, intensely intent; the third disc flew through the rings. Nicholas raised himself up and looked at the hourglass. It had been timed for ten minutes, and nearly a third of the sand still remained.

‘That’s it, then,’ he said calmly, ‘it’s done. Now to claim my prize.’

Nicholas’s guide took him through the house as together they went in search of Lady Isabel Grangeshield. After ten minutes or so they found her. She was again with her companion of before and by chance they looked across at the door just as Nicholas and Timothy entered. They immediately looked towards each other, leaning their heads together and giggling.

Nicholas and Timothy walked right up to them and Timothy said, ‘Lady Grangeshield, I present Mr Nicholas Raspero. Miss Philips, I present Mr Nicholas Raspero.’

Then he turned to Nicholas. ‘Mr Raspero, I present Lady Isabel Grangeshield. I also present Miss Mary Philips.’

The ladies had not looked at either of them even once throughout this introduction, leaning against each other with their foreheads touching and giggling helplessly. Then, as if by a secret agreement, they both broke away and ran for the door, bursting into shrieks of laughter as if the funniest thing in the world had just happened and it was all too much for them.

Nicholas was utterly content as he watched them go. He felt that everything had turned out perfectly. ‘Thank you, Mr Boylent,’ he said in all sincerity. ‘You have kept your side of the bargain.’

‘You are welcome, Mr Raspero,’ Timothy said. ‘It was really no trouble at all. A mere trifle.’

Which for Timothy, of course, it had been, but for Nicholas it had been one of the great moments of his young life.

10:15 PM, Thursday 5 May 1544 A.F

Isabel was in the Dacian Salon with Mary Philips, who had some additional comments to make on the very choice gossip she had imparted earlier concerning her brother George. The girls were huddling together and giggling over what she had to say when they saw the shabby stranger of before enter the room in the company of Timothy Boylent and approach them. Isabel was feeling very merry. The glasses of wine she had drunk had gone to her head, and she felt floaty and cheerful and giggly.

Mary immediately realised what was happening. ‘Izzy, it’s your rich and handsome suitor! Look, he’s going to be introduced to you.’

The girls were laughing so much that Isabel didn’t hear a word Timothy was saying. They waited out of habitual politeness for the introduction to be completed, helpless with laughter. ‘Run for it before he proposes!’ Mary suggested with her sharp, clever wit into Isabel’s ear and the girls ran for it, laughing fit to burst. It was really too funny, this nobody stranger in his shabby clothes wanting to be introduced to Isabel. It was hilarious!

11:00 PM, Thursday 5 May 1544 A.F

Nicholas was again wandering around on his own, enjoying the party. He felt more content now; for one moment, during his introduction to Isabel he had belonged there; at that moment he had been of the party, not just in it. The fact that Isabel had ignored him did not matter. It was not relevant to the fact that he had been introduced. Somehow that had a significance that he could not define, yet felt so deeply that a warmth spread from that significance throughout his mind and body.

He came across Mr Zarek chatting to two ladies and stopped to say hello, and so it was that he was introduced to Miss Amanda Dahl and Miss Eileen Radcliff.

At around midnight, Nicholas left the party. No-one questioned him on the way out, as obviously the defences were maintained against the traffic coming the other way. He was just another figure leaving the party, and by no means the only one; a stream of mostly older people, with reluctant youngsters pulled along behind them, were also leaving.

Nicholas gave no further thought to Lady Isabel Grangeshield in the days that followed. His first sight of Isabel had wrenched him off balance yet Timothy’s introduction to her had restored that balance; it had all been perfectly imaginary, yet perfectly real. He felt no interest in trying to understand what had happened. There was either nothing to understand or it would do him no good to understand it. He was content with everything as it had happened and he moved on with his life without a backward glance.

2:00 AM, Friday 6 May 1544 A.F

The evening had been merry, merry, merry. There were many hilarious things that happened that evening; everyone seemed to sparkle with intelligence and good humour. It was the best party Isabel had attended for a while. The conversation was witty and free flowing, the spirits of all the guests cheerful and merry, the food and drink plentiful. The bride-to-be Sofiya looked a little tense, it was true, but then she was now engaged after all; the bridegroom-to-be Hedley was a little forced in his good humour, but then, he also was now engaged. Not everyone could be expected to be happy about being engaged to be married. If anything, the lack of complete enthusiasm on the part of Hedley and Sofiya added a frisson of amusement to the entire evening; the laughter of the guests was sharpened by the dullness of the centrepiece of the evening as a knife is sharpened on dull stone.

Isabel returned home in the early hours of the following morning in her flying carriage, sleepy in the midst of the surrounding sobriety of her chaperones, her body relaxed in the shuddering aftermath of so much laughter. By then she had completely forgotten about her introduction to the shabbily dressed stranger. The incongruity of the presence of the stranger in the midst of all the surrounding wealthy merriness of the evening meant that his presence had not fitted into her perceptions and so he had slipped out of her memory as an item of the evening not in accordance with anything else. The particular memory of his introduction was swallowed up and digested by the more general memory of the merriness of the evening.

It was as if it had never happened at all.