came a veritable quarto of men of the highest stature with such titles as Prime Minister, Captain-Marshal of the Lifeguard, Chief Draw of the Purse-people Rossamund recognized by face if not by name from his brief visit to the Brandendirk. With them too was a woman of dark and foreign beauty whose presumably natural dress of gold scales and diaphanous cloth of mauve and gold was sufficiently exotic to class as fancies. 'The Princess Awahb, Fatemah of Pander Tar! Heiress to the Peacock Throne!' the doormen on every floor announced as she ascended, to the general wonder of all.
Receiving the heiress of Naimes' formula for nonattendance with smiling grace, the Archduke nevertheless appeared slightly provoked not to be personally greeted by Europe.
He hopes to show off his princess and trump Europe with her, Rossamund could not help but think.
Indeed, the ruler of the mighty city of Brandenbrass, with his Princess-quickly becoming the darling of the gala-had to wait for nigh on an hour to play his trump, for it was not until nine-of-the-clock precisely that the Branden Rose made her appearance. Loudly announced by Master Papelott, she stepped gracefully into the now hushed ludion, astonishing everyone with her costume.
Assuming she was to be wearing the gorgeous harness she had tried three days earlier, Rossamund was himself taken aback.
Clad in a wide skirt of deep red and a lorica of burnished bronze scales draped in a thick hackle of leonguile hide, she wore a high bronze helm pushed back upon her head, its crown crested with horsehair of black-and-white stripes.
Recovering, Rossamund understood immediately who she intended herself to be.
Euodice, the historied speardame to Idaho.
To those in the company of revelers who knew their matter, the import of Europe's fancy dress was bold and clear. I am of the Old Blood, it said; my line is more ancient than the Empire. It was an incontestable claim and it was also a challenge.
People began crowding into the ludion, all eager to hear what the Branden Rose might have to say at such an uncharacteristic social display.
His mistress finally debouched from her boudoir, Rossamund felt the release of some inward knot he did not know he had. At last! A part of him could not help but wonder if she had marked the painting waiting by her door.
Handed by the Archduke himself onto the orchestra's rostrum, the Duchess-in-waiting of Naimes looked like an Attic empress staring complacently out at the great company in their fancies. To Rossamund it seemed by the glimmer in her cool hazel gaze that she was laughing inwardly at the ludicrous spectacle of costume before her.
'I thank you all for condescending to my little event,' she said with bold clarity, 'to help me rejoice in the success of another course and to bring a correction to the current of recent ill wind.' She glanced ever so briefly-the merest nigh-undetectable flicker of her eyes-to the Archduke. 'Many of you might marvel at such a turn of character; yet I seek only-with this little affair of mine-to offer to you that which so many of you have so unflaggingly offered to me over the long years.' Europe smiled with such winsome warmth that it left little room for any offense. 'I place no limit on this night. Remain in my hospitality for as long as you will. So now, continue as I presently attempt a feat greater than the slaying of any prowling bogle and speak with you all before the night is through. I thank you.'
While the Branden Rose descended, nodding and smiling piously to general applause, an immense white molded dessert was brought up to the ludion. Carried in a broad tray upon the shoulders of four footmen, it was made in the shape of the trefoiled heart of Naimes and swam in a bath of deep pink raspberry glatin. 'Victory Flummery' Papelott called it, 'in honor of our gracious hostess' success!' Served in fine Heil glassware of the most rarefied rosy tint, it was flavored with what was proudly declared as vanilla. People oohed at so rare and fashionable a novelty. Dressed in a maschencarde mask of a horse, a learned fellow near where Rossamund stood at the summit of the steps loudly enlightened all in earshot-listening or otherwise-that it was gained from the pod of some singular orchid growing in the febrile islands of the Sinus Tintinabuline. Opposed to the flummery model of the Sloe Sapperling at the Patredike, this dessert looked positively delectable, and the young factotum eyed it hungrily on his way to his mistress' side.
Proudly he followed behind her as she proved herself true to her determination to exchange a word or two with all, her manner as bland and accommodating as he had ever known it to be. It was wearying to watch and to hear; he was amazed at the duchess-daughter's fortitude.
One aged dame in virginal white, whose gelid expression told far more clearly her true sentiments toward Europe than her silken words, dared a remark on Rossamund, declaring with saccharine notes, 'So young in his trade, my dear, and we've heard such things about him…'
'Only good things, I am sure,' the Duchess-in-waiting returned wintrily, her smile thin.
'Oh, ah, yes yes.' The woman blanched, realizing she had miscalculated. '… Certainly.'
As for the Princess of Pander Tar, sat at one end of the hall among a throng of admirers both adoring and purely inquisitive, Europe did not-of course-prove at all trumped. Paying no more respect than she received, the Duchess-in-waiting was perfectly measured at their meeting, her greeting as cool as the Princess'.
'I know you will not mind my bringing such an august guest uninvited to your night, dear cousin Naimes,' the Archduke purred smugly in aside to his hostess. 'As especial guest in my courts I could not very well leave the Fatemah behind…'
'A new bosom to distract you, sir,' Europe returned discreetly. 'Be careful, Lady Madigan might grow jealous.'
'Hmm.'The Archduke smiled through his teeth. 'Indeed…'
Though many looked at her with unaffected awe and respect, there were a few with whom the heiress of Naimes exchanged genuine felicitations. Much of the way about the ludion-and with the other floors still to visit- Europe abruptly insisted Rossamund take his leave of her. 'It shall be easier for me to make my path among the rest if I am unattended,' she said.
Both relieved and a little perplexed to be so released, Rossamund descended to the floor below, moving through the billiard room with its swaggering young players to look in on the oratory happening in the parlor beyond. His own oration done, Doctor Crispus was arguing robustly with those guests who reckoned themselves erudite or scholarly, who had perhaps sat a foundation at an athenaeum or abacus. It was a rigorous conversation that Rossamund little understood, perpetually on the brink of devolving into more physical arguments. As for Mister and Madam Carp, they had apparently departed almost immediately after Europe had presented herself.
In the rear quarters the young factotum made another inquiry on his old masters' weal. Finding them both pale and flagging, he sent Fransitart and Craumpalin both-despite their grumbling about missing out-to their pallet to rest, ensuring healthy portions of the night's fare were sent promptly for them to sup on.
Under the sway of the latening hour and many a jovial glass, the solemnity of the gala began to unravel, and its graceful grandeur descended to something more akin to a country fete. As one of-the-clock was announced by Master Papelott, the more sensible people began to have thoughts for home. As was only proper, these prudent souls sought to say good night to their hostess. Disgruntled murmurs began to ripple through the collected gentry that the Duchess-in-waiting could not be found. Calls for a search came from bolder throats, and though Papelott and Rossamund, the footmen and most of the house staff sought high and low for her, it was to no avail.
The heiress of Naimes was gone.
Greatly affronted-all the work of Europe's bland affability undone in a moment-the sensible departed anyway, sniffing at apologies and claiming this as typical of such a fractious and unmanageable creature as the Branden Rose.
'She has invited us only to toy with us!' one grand dame declared severely on her exit.
'What do you expect from one who has her own money?' her equally elderly companion concurred, to the murmured agreement of all who heard.
At two-striking on Cloche Arde's long-case clocks, mantel timepieces and from the many repeaters in gentlemen's pockets-the orchestras finally submitted to exhaustion and, stowing their hundredweight of instruments aboard a large dray, left.
