Saithorthepyro
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Chapter 50 - Dress and a Layout
🕑 Added 2024-08-23 16:00:16 +0000 UTCMeeting Gregory Montague the next afternoon, my face still itched as I walked to the carriage outside Lord Montague’s manor.
Maybe it was the recent change. Maybe it was spending the entire morning having the fumes of various poisons floating about the attic lab. None of them were deadly when breathed in, but they weren’t pleasant either. I’d need to install an improvised fume hood in there.
I’d worked on talking till my voice sounded essentially the same as before. I hadn’t touched my vocal cords, but adjusting my lips and tongue had altered it. I’d settled on not just altering my face to appear like a mixture between Keltish and Anglean, but changing it further than necessary, further adjusting the shape of my skull.
Striking a balance between being as far as possible from my natural appearance and not looking too intrinsically off was difficult. There was an excellent reason to make yourself resemble another person you knew. The artificially created tended to look artificial. And the eye could spot those little differences.
I approached the carriage, waving a friendly hand in greeting. The message I’d delivered yesterday had been the first Infernal to approach with a wave was me. He wouldn’t recognize that only if shape-changers intercepted their mail after it went into the mail slot.
Gregory Montague leaned out of the carriage, offering a hand. He’d dressed up, a frock coat in dark green with breeches of the same color. No top hat, thankfully.
I considered the offered hand. Truth be told I was tall enough to get into the carriage myself but my face might not be fully set in yet. Best not to take any chances.
“Miss Harrow or Miss Falara today?” Gregory asked as I took his hand. “Which do you prefer?”
“Miss Harrow, and could you not publicly say that latter name?” I hissed as I closed the carriage door behind me. “I might need another name for the ball. Best not to introduce me under a name associated with the Black Flame. Danielle Waters?”
“Sounds reasonable enough, although juggling that many names at once seems a bit difficult. Not just keeping track of which one is being used but trying not to respond to the other ones.”
“A name is a mask,” I told him. “If you wear it, immerse yourself into it till you forget all other aspects of yourself, including the other names. If you treat a name as a name, you’ll fail to become it. Suffocate yourself in it till the others are corpses, only revived when you want them to.”
“That’s a morbid way of putting it,” Gregory said with a lightly strained smile. “I don’t want to offend you, but it doesn’t seem like you’ve kept up that advice yourself?”
“No, I have not,” I agreed. “I failed at it, letting stress weaken two different name’s hold on me. This one will be fine. It’s just for an evening. How long till we reach this dressmaker?”
“Twenty minutes, with how traffic normally is. Thinking we should put together the story of how you and I met for the party?”
“We’ll need it for the dressmaker, so yes.”
“Oh, Aedelia is very discreet,” he said. “I’ve trusted her with all manners of things regarding my dates to these events.”
“Would you trust her with something that might mean the death of your brother?” I asked bluntly.
He frowned slightly, hesitating in his answer. “Perhaps not.”
“Then I definitely don’t,” I said. “So, how did we meet?”
“I believe with you tackling me and holding a blade to my throat, but I imagine that won’t work in this case. Maybe in the Quarter still, perhaps I met you out on the streets-”
“No one is going to buy a noble randomly walking the streets of the Infernal Quarter without a good reason,” I said. “And considering the two professions you would be most likely to encounter, I’m not willing to pretend to be either.”
“You are a criminal, though, aren’t you?” He asked.
The glare I turned on him was only a smidge less intense than the one Voltar had received for ruining my face adjustments yesterday.
“Fair enough. We met…at the temple. Can you fake being a worshipper of Tarver?”
Considering my knowledge of Tarver was occasionally hearing his name among Universalists who occasionally toured the Quarter, no. I’d stopped listening to them after realizing despite their preaching of lifting us out of our gods-cursed existence, they weren’t much better than those of Halspus who stood at the outskirts yelling about how we would soon be destroyed for our blasphemy.
There were other Infernals more religious than I who did visit temples, but I’d shut my door on that a long time ago. When the head of the pantheon had priests praying for your destruction, I considered his fellows the same for not overthrowing him.
“I can fake being a worshipper of Halspus,” I muttered. “Maybe even a cleric. Certainly picked up enough of their doctrine from having it screamed at me.”
“That probably wouldn’t be believed. I'm not saying there has never been a cleric of Halspus who also happened to be an Infernal, but it’s a bit of a walking contradiction. You don’t need to know much about him. You could be a neophyte who ventured in wanting to learn more, maybe head to one of Sister Kellin’s orgies, we met before then, hit it off,-”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted. “Sister Kellin’s orgies? You must be joking.”
“No,” Gregory said, seemingly sincere. “She does them every other week, masked affairs. It tends to attract nobles of a young age. A bit of controversy for them, thinking they're tweaking the nose of their rich parents, and since it’s masked, there's no actual risk of public scandal or said parents finding out. A fun, safe act of rebellion. A bit controversial, especially with the Gilded Lily’s clergy since she is the goddess of love, and…you know, I don’t need to get into the doctrinal arguments. I’ve never attended one, so I can’t really speak to the experience either.”
“I don’t know what the harder thing you want me to believe is. That your god approves of orgies in his temple or that you’ve never been to one.”
A look of fake scandalization came across Gregory’s face.
“Why the nerve, accusing me of something so indecent, Miss Harrow! Truth be told, I was in one before I joined the temple. Honestly? I got much less out of it than I put in.”
“We can go with that as the cover then,” I said. “That I went to the temple, not necessarily that I was there searching for an orgy.”
“Well, part of the reason you are being invited is that you would scandalize my father in our cover story, so-”
“No,” I insisted. “We need a good reason for my invitation to be an irritation to your father but we do not want people paying more attention to me than as a mild curiosity. Being an Infernal will fulfill that role. Adding more details turns me into more of a curiosity. We can end this discussion there.”
“We have another conversation we need to finish at some point,” he said.
I grimaced at the memory of all that had gone on in Lord Montague’s manor. The results of not enough sleep and a truly horrendous…had it even been a week yet since this entire mess had started?
“We do have a few we need to,” I countered. “You once warned me very firmly about Lady Karsin. Something about her spending a century in the court?”
That threw the noble a little off-balance, but it only took a second for that easy grin to sprout across his face again.
“It was as I implied that day. She’s survived a century at court, even made it through the reign of Her Most Profane Majesty. Some thought her dead till she turned up toward the end with some household troops. She ever talk about taking part in the battle for Avernorn with you?”
“We’ve only met a few times,” I said. “She probably thought it would be uncomfortable to bring up. She’d be right.”
His smile faded a little bit again. “You don’t agree with the decision to overthrow Her Most Profane Majesty?”
That disturbed him? Then again, he’d read his father's most classified files, which probably included histories of that era. From descriptions, Versalicci was a tenth of what Her Most Profane Majesty was in terms of spite, pain, and ways to utilize both.
“I have no fondness in my bones for her,” I said. “By all accounts, she’s a monster who deserved the slaying. That doesn’t make me any more fond of what happened after.”
“Well, regardless of that Lady Karsin has managed to survive this length of time as an elf at court,” Gregory said. “While I can hardly talk about how it compares to being an Infernal, they aren’t beloved among the nobility. See, the nobility is for us full blood humans only. It cost the queen a good deal of capital just to have the Keltish nobility accepted despite the possibility of an outright rebellion if we didn’t leave the local lords with some authority over there. Yet she’s maintained her positions all these decades. Definitely one with a shrewd mind. Ah!”
He suddenly leaned out the window of the carriage for a few seconds before coming back inside.
“We are at our destination! Aedelia is a bit enthusiastic, but she is quite good at her job. Just don’t let her foist something too ostentatious on you. I’ll pay for the dress, so please don’t try to empty my wallet.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, how tempting that is. For more than one reason. I don’t usually buy clothes like this you know?”
“Not a fan of dresses?” Gregory asked.
“No, I’m not a fan of figuring out how much it’ll cost to get a dress that’s both respectable enough to wear, easy to move in, and with enough concealed pockets to carry the arsenal I want to bring. Assuming this dressmaker can even do that.”
Oh, and if it could be adjusted because my legs went backward. And my tail. I should resign to taping it down so it didn’t accidentally lift my skirt. That was a lesson I’d thankfully learned before the streets.
“She is quite skilled,” Gregory assured me.
“Well then, I’ll see about not draining your wallet,” I told him. “But a good quality dress that I don’t need to tape my tail to my legs? Oh that is quite the temptation, Lord Montague.”
His smile grew a bit nervous. “Maybe I should be in the room when you two discuss it?”
“Why Lord Montague! Being in the same room as a woman and her dressmaker? The scandal that would arise!”
Truth be told, he seemed half-serious about the possibility of his wallet being emptied. But it was nice to be on the other side of this for once. Exhilarating even.
“I’m not afraid of scandal,” he told me flatly. “I am afraid of losing money since I don’t get any allowance from my father.”
When we exited the coach, he did not offer me his hand to help me down. Ah, the fickle nature of your average….I suppose cleric of Tarver instead of Dandy.
The dressmaker’s was a single-story store practically hidden between bigger ones, and opening the door led to a neat little front room with a single visible stall currently empty and a doorway leading further back into the store.
“Ah, allowance,” I said. “Truly a devastating loss for a man in his twenties. However, could you compensate me for not missing it? I think there a pair of words for it. Employment, mayhaps of the gainful kind for your lordship?”
“I’m a cleric at Tarver’s temple,” Gregory replied. “So I am gainfully employed, and religious work doesn’t pay that much money. So-”
The door swung open, and a brown-haired elf wearing a dress in a riotous combination of pink, green, and brown emerged from behind it.
“Gregory, it’s been too long!” She yelled, rushing forward to hug him. “I thought your father must have threatened to kill you after the last dress you had me make for your date. And you must be the Infernal. His Lordship didn’t mention your name?”
“Miss Waters,” I said, ignoring being called ‘the Infernal.’
“Well, come on back, let’s see if I have anything in your size. You stay out here, Gregory, just wait out here in the front.”
Aedelia rushed me to the back, the shutting door cutting off Gregory telling her not to fix me up with anything too expensive.
“He certainly knows how to treat his dates,” she said as soon as the door was shut.
“I can hear you!” he protested through the open space over the front stall.
“Yes, I know,” she complained, leading me through a small hallway, dresses hanging up on either side, most of them very far out of date. A collection of some sort? Most of them looked like styles long since past.
We eventually ended up in a large room with more stored all across each wall. She took my measurements, keeping a running commentary up the entire time. I managed to get a word in asking about all the dresses.
"Oh, truth be told I'm more a dress re-seller than a dress-maker, I mostly deal in adjustments and fittings from my current stocks."
"That explains the styles then," I muttered to myself.
“Oh, fashion has become so dull compared to years past,” the dressmaker complained. “Everything now is so mundane. I don’t suppose I could tempt you to move past the modern sense of restraint?”
“I’d prefer to be able to move,” I replied, considering how much I could tell the elf. Trusted by Gregory Montague did not mean I should be transparent.
“As much as I hate to be a bore, just a simple dress that doesn’t impede my movements too much will be fine.”
“I suppose,” Aedelia said. “I have a few that could work. We’ll need to make some adjustments of course, especially for the tail unless you want to tuck it in?”
“I’d prefer to not do that,” I answered. Gregory would be buying the dress so there was no need to worry about returning it in the same condition.
“I don’t suppose I could get you to accept a hat as well?” She asked.
I tapped one of my horns, smiling apologetically.
“I’ve found most hats don’t agree with the horns, sorry.”
“No,” she said, looking over them, eyes narrowing. “But perhaps something else. Give me just a second.”
Aedelia went to the back of the store, and I waited first a minute, then two, then ten before the dressmaker returned. She cradled a model ship in her hands, a man-o-war in miniature.
“You wanted to show me a model ship?” I asked.
“No, I want you to wear a model ship,” she told me, beaming.
I…what?
“We might need to do something with your hair, a wig perhaps, but with hair wrapped around it and balanced between your horns, it should fit right in,” Aedelia said proudly.
“I am not wearing a ship on my head,” I said. “Everyone will be staring at me the moment I look in with that perched atop my head.”
“That is the point. Oh, it is about half a century out of style, I’ll admit, but look at it this way: you’ll be the center of attention!”
"No,” I flatly replied.
“You’ll be the talk of the event!”
“I’ll be attending one of Lord Montague’s events! I’m an Infernal! I think that’ll be talk enough, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” Aedelia conceded. “I suppose the HMS Sunstopper will have to return to storage then. Wait here a moment?”
She disappeared into the storage rooms, but I could hear her steps as she made a circuitous route to the front room, opening the door and closing it quietly.
I’d taken the liberty of adjusting my ears while remolding my face. Not too much, so it wouldn’t leave any obvious physical traces of being modified, but enough that I could hear a little farther than most would expect.
Aedelia whispered, and I tried to listen in, considering it a good way to test my new ears.
“You said this one wouldn’t be boring! But she is!”
“You tried to put the ship on top of her didn’t you? No one’s wanted a boat on their head for seventy years, Addy!”
Aedelia showed back up several minutes later, a few dresses on her arms.
“Those are the ones you want me to try?” I asked.
"The first batch, yes. There's at least ten more batches in the back”
Well, I thought as she went back into the rooms of her shop for me, I could use a relaxing afternoon for once.
***
Malstein was with us for the fourth day.
We’d sketched out from memory the parts of the manor Voltar and I had gone through during our earlier visit. It filled some more of the second floor out. Gregory had helped with more of that, but the third floor remained empty.
Apparently even kinship didn’t get you access to the third floor. Those who could venture there could be counted on two hands, Lord Montague, his heir, a pair of retainers that were most likely practitioners of some kind of magic, and a quartet of guards.
“He better not be keeping your brother there,” I told Gregory. “Unless he lets more people in. A place with a restricted number of people in or out is going to be more at risk.”
This was closer to a kidnapping than an assassination attempt, so trying to hide Edward Montague would present a higher risk, mainly if access was limited. We’d known since the last meeting with Lord Montague what their goal would be, but then he chose a way of hiding his heir that seemed to help more than hinder the shape-changers.
“I’d suggest sending someone to scout the rest of the layout if we had more time and if being caught wouldn’t result in the invitations being retracted,” I said.
“Too much of a risk,” Voltar agreed. “Also, perhaps do not discuss this next time in front of the Watch?”
Malstein grinned. “He’s got a point. Breaking the law is only legal when you’ve got a badge, Miss Harrow.”
Like I needed a reminder of that.
“Dawes and I will keep close together and handle the first floor to draw the attention of any of the shape-changers who will be there. Also, from prior events, we will both find it hard to disengage.”
The celebrity of being the Empire’s best detective and his trusted companion would be keeping them from slipping away.
“That leaves me and Gregory Montague to handle the outskirts and the second floor,” I said. “The scandal of him bringing an Infernal should hopefully fade quickly. At least some guests will probably pretend I’m not even there as soon as I make it convenient for them. The shape-changers will probably be aware of who I am, though.”
A lone Infernal at the party? After their issues with the same Infernal under two different faces? One didn’t need to be Voltar to connect those dots.
“Most likely,” Voltar said. “I might have made a mistake deciding not to go after those Pure Bloods. I’d sent notes to the Delver Guilds, hoping they would consider it a matter of importance, but I’ve yet to hear anything back. And now we are stuck purely on the reactive, hoping they swallow the bait.”
I nodded. “Let’s hope that they are targeting Lord Montague specifically then. Because if they are, no matter how obvious the trap, this is their best moment to strike.”
Edward Montague had gotten up this morning fit as a fiddle, Gregory had said, just in time for the second dose of the antidote that left him a wreck, barely able to lift his head an inch off his bed. The fight between antidote and poison was ongoing and would be concluded by the evening of the ball.
It was too much to hope that no shape-changer had infiltrated the Montague’s estate. The chances were too high they had been.
Whatever changes were made to his personality would be cemented by the day after. The best time to replace him would be the ball.
Author's Note: The Season has decided to greet me with allergies. Hope you all are doing better this time of year.
Comments
Neil Stevens
Thanks for pointing it out, fixed
gostsamo
> The results of not enough slip sleep
