“Avan, ras Elsor,” said a portly woman when she descended the stairs. The innkeeper.
Lila nodded, wishing she’d had a chance to hear the man speak. Hadn’t Alucard said that Stross was from the same part of the empire? His accent had rough edges, which Lila tried to mimic as she murmured, “Avan.”
The illusion held. No one else paid her any mind, and Lila strode out into the morning light, not as a street thief, or a sailor, but a magician, ready for the Essen Tasch.
I
The day before the Essen Tasch, the Night Market roused itself around noon.
Apparently the lure of festivities and foreigners eager to spend money was enough to amend the hours. With time to kill before the Banner Night, Lila wandered the stalls, her coins jingling in Elsor’s pockets; she bought a cup of spiced tea and some kind of sweet bun, and tried to make herself comfortable in her new persona.
She didn’t dare go back to the Wandering Road, where she’d have to trade Elsor for Bard or else be recognized. Once the tournament began, it wouldn’t matter. Identities would disappear behind personas. But today she needed to be seen. Recognized. Remembered.
It wasn’t hard. The stall owners were notorious gossips—all she had to do was strike up conversation as she shopped, drop a hint, a detail, once or twice a name, purposefully skirt the topic of the tournament, leave a parcel behind so someone trotted after her calling out, “Elsor! Master Elsor!”
By the time she reached the palace edge of the market, the work was done, word weaving through the crowd. Stasion Elsor. One of the competitors. Handsome fellow. Too thin. Never seen him before. What can he do? Guess we’ll see. She felt their eyes on her as she shopped, caught the edges of their whispered conversation, and tried to smother her thief’s instinct to shake the gaze and disappear.
Not yet, she thought as the sun finally began to sink.
One thing was still missing.
“Lila,” said Calla when she entered. “You’re early.”
“You didn’t set a time.”
The merchant stopped, taking in Lila’s new appearance.
“How do I look?” she asked, shoving her hands in Elsor’s coat.
Calla sighed. “Even less like a woman than usual.” She plucked the hat off Lila’s head and turned it over in her hands.
“This is not bad,” said Calla, before noticing Lila’s shorn hair. She took a piece between her fingers. “But what is this?”
Lila shrugged. “I wanted a change.”
Calla tutted, but she didn’t prod. Instead, she disappeared through a curtain, and emerged a moment later with a box.
Inside was Lila’s mask.
She lifted it, and staggered at the weight. The interior had been lined with dark metal, so cleanly made and shaped that it looked poured instead of hammered. Calla hadn’t disposed of the leather demon mask, not entirely, but she’d taken it apart and made something new. The lines were clean, the angles sharp. Where simple black horns had once corkscrewed up over the head, now they curled back in an elegant way. The brow was sharper, jutting forward slightly like a visor, and the bottom of the mask, which had once ended on her cheekbones, now dipped lower at the sides, following the lines of her jaw. It was still a monster’s face, but it was a new breed of demon.
Lila slid the mask over her head. She was still wondering at the beautiful, monstrous thing when Calla handed her something else. It was made of the same black leather, and lined with the same dark metal, and it shaped a kind of crown, or a smile, the sides taller than the center. Lila turned it over in her hands, wondering what it was for, until Calla retrieved it, swept around behind her, and fastened the plate around her throat.
“To keep your head on your shoulders,” said the woman, who then proceeded to clasp the sides of the neck guard to small, hidden hinges on the tapered sides of the mask. It was like a jaw, and when Lila looked at her reflection, she saw her features nested within the two halves of the monster’s skull.
She broke into a devilish grin, her teeth glinting within the mouth of the helmet.
“You,” said Lila, “are brilliant.”
“Anesh,” said Calla with a shrug, though Lila could see that the merchant was proud.
She had the sudden and peculiar urge to hug the woman, but she resisted.
The hinged jaw allowed her to raise the mask, which she did, the demon’s head resting on top of her own like a crown, the jaw still circling her throat. “How do I look?” she asked.
“Strange,” said Calla. “And dangerous.”
“Perfect.”
Outside, the bells began to toll, and Lila’s smile widened.
It was time.
*
Kell crossed to the bed and examined the clothes—a set of black trousers and a high-collared black shirt, both trimmed with gold. On top of the shirt sat the gold pin Rhy had given him for the royal reception. His coat waited, thrown over the back of a chair, but he left it there. It was a traveler’s charm, and tonight he was confined to the palace.