He snorted, running a finger over the black molded leather. A jackal’s head, stylized like paintings of the
“You pay me to be effective, not just menacing.”
“Tonight I’m paying you to be both.”
He looked the part at least, all in black, sleek northern clothes instead of the billowing southern styles. He’d make a charming counterpoint to her own white silk.
Her costume was simple, loose trousers and a long Sivahri coat that fit snug to the waist and belled from hip to calf. The fabric made it beautiful, rippling with lustrous rainbows, opalescent as moonlight and fog. The mask was white as well, a sharply pointed oval with slanting eyes and fur-lined ears. Her hair hung loose down her back and between the mask, the high-collared coat, and her soft white gloves, the only skin that showed was her eyelids.
The sky had deepened from ash to slate by the time she finished dressing, and already shouts and music drifted down the street. Zhirin waited for them in the front hall. Her mask was a simple domino, but the rest of her costume made up for it. Green and silver ribbons threaded her hair and iridescent scales gleamed on her skirt and vest. Blue-green malachite dust shimmered on her bare arms and throat, over the soft curve of her stomach.
When she saw Isyllt, the girl’s mouth gaped and she brushed a hand across her left eye in a warding gesture. “Lady…It suits you.”
“Thank you. I think.”
“Are you sure you want to stay, master?” Zhirin asked Vasilios as he walked them to the door.
“I’ll be fine. I’m getting too old for drunken revelry.” His limp was more pronounced and he rubbed his swollen hands. “And without Marat here to force meals on me, perhaps I’ll get some work done. Have fun. Be careful.” He patted Zhirin’s shoulder fondly and shooed them out.
The night was bright with music and lanterns, thick with the smell of wine and incense. A few mask-sellers still cried their wares, but nearly every face they passed was already covered. Herons and owls, lions and hounds, sea monsters and spirits, all dancing and laughing in the streets. The rain had paused, as if in encouragement, but clouds still rode the rooftops and Isyllt’s face was soon damp and sticky beneath her mask.
The guards were out in force as well; red uniforms marked nearly every street corner, stood like pillars adorning alleyways. None wore masks.
They followed the crowd toward the water plaza. Banners and garlands hung from roofs and bridges, and candles bobbed like fireflies in every canal. The crowd thickened when they reached the streets around the Floating Garden, till they couldn’t move without brushing arms and shoulders or tangling in someone’s costume.
“This is madness,” Adam said, their masks bumping as he leaned in. “We have to get out of this. If something happens-”
She nodded and tried to push her way to the far side. They hadn’t reached the next building when drums rolled nearby and half the crowd began to dance. Someone grabbed Isyllt’s hands and spun her around. She laughed in spite of herself, but by the time she slipped free she’d lost sight of Adam and Zhirin.
A new partner seized her, a man with a raptor’s wicked beak, his mask a glorious crown of red and gold feathers. Gold thread gleamed on fluttering sleeves and topaz and garnet chips rattled as he moved. Wings hung lovely and useless down his back, two pairs. A jinn.
He caught her hand and bowed over it, graceful even in the unwieldy mask. His magic crawled against her skin and she knew him.
“Lovely, my lady,” Asheris said. “But too plain. You should be hung all in opals.”
“We can’t all burn as bright as you, Lord al Seth.”
“No, I suppose not.” He twirled her and pulled her out of the flow of the crowd. Someone jostled her in passing and she steadied herself against his shoulder.
“I keep running into you,” she said, leaning close to his ear. “I might suspect you were following me.” Foolish to tease him, but the heat and energy of the dance stole away her caution.
His lips curled in the shadow of his beak. “This isn’t a night for suspicions.”
“Then why so many guards?”
“That, my lady, is caution, and sadly well-founded.”
She nodded, fighting the urge to pass on Xinai’s warning. But he knew as much as she did, doubtless, and she needed no more attention.
Before she could speak, Zhirin appeared, laying a light hand on Isyllt’s arm to keep them from drifting apart.
“My escort,” Isyllt said, nodding farewell to Asheris. “Perhaps I’ll see you again tonight.”
“I suspect you shall.” He bowed again and Isyllt let Zhirin lead her away. He was dangerous, she reminded herself. But that never stopped her as often as it should.
Wooden platforms covered most of the Floating Garden, firmly lashed together and to the banks. Some were stages for musicians, some dance floors, others bridges. Lanterns bobbed in a web of ropes overhead, their reflections like colored moons in the night-black water. Theater boxes had been erected around the plaza, raised and sheltered vantages from which to watch the revelry.
“Adam’s on the other side,” Zhirin said, pushing her way through.
Isyllt stepped onto the rocking boards, but a new song started and she was caught in another dance. She dodged reaching hands, balancing on the edge of the platform as dancers spun, trading partners as they twirled. Feathers and sequins littered the wood.
When she neared the far side, a man in a fox mask-copper and black instead of white-offered her a hand from the bank. As she reached for it, the barge trembled under her feet. A dancer stumbled drunkenly beside her and his companion giggled. Isyllt’s stomach tightened and she tensed to leap for the shore.
Too late. Her fingers brushed the man’s and the water erupted in a violent fountain, flinging flowers and candles into the air. The barge surged up, snapping its moorings as it capsized. Someone screamed, and then the water closed over Isyllt’s head.
All around she heard frantic splashing and muted shouts from above. Water seeped into her mouth, bitter with silt. Her coat weighed her down, fouled her legs as she tried to swim. A hand caught her arm, rescuer or fellow victim, and she reached for it.
But the flesh she touched was nothing human and whatever held her was dragging her deeper.
She ripped off her mask and summoned a sickly white ghostlight that glowed through the murk. Black eyes paled to pearl in the sudden glare and the creature bared needle teeth in a silent hiss. No seductive siren, this- webbed hands and sea-wrack hair, a mouth twice as wide as a man’s. A finned tail like a sea serpent’s lashed the water, coiling around Isyllt’s legs.
A nakh. She groped for her knife but found only wet silk and scales. Already her chest burned and she fought to keep her mouth shut. Claws scored her flesh.
She rallied her scattered wits, abandoned the knife in favor of better weapons. Her ring blazed through her glove, shards of light aimed at the creature’s eyes. It recoiled, letting go of Isyllt’s arm.
It wasn’t alone-at least half a dozen sinuous monsters moved in the water, dragging down other hapless celebrants. Black ribbons of blood twisted on the current.
She kicked up, but the nakh recovered too quickly. Its wide hand closed on her ankle and jerked her down so hard that she nearly gasped. Air leaked from her nose and mouth and dark spots swirled across her eyes.
A splash broke the water above them, a burst of silver bubbles as someone dove into the canal. Isyllt kicked at the nakh, slammed her heel against the side of its head and wished for heavy boots. It snapped at her and she barely jerked her foot away in time to keep all her toes.
A voice carried through the water, clear and echoing with magic, though Isyllt didn’t understand the words. The nakh flinched and released her leg. Its kin let go of their prey as well. Another shout and they turned and glided down, vanishing into the darkness below.
Isyllt’s light faltered and died; the current had her now, pulling her on. Then someone grabbed her hand and she began to swim, clawing the water in desperation.
Her head broke the surface and she gasped a heartbeat too soon, swallowing a bitter mouthful. Someone else caught her, dragged her onto stone steps and let her collapse in a sodden, coughing heap.
