The Mask of Mirrors by M. Carrick; (different e readers txt) 📕

doomed-to-fail check against their power, but there was more to it than that. He had a purpose, a mandate. Fighting against this poison, whatever it was. And when it changed…

To its right, The Ember Adamant; to its left, Pearl’s Promise. A chance to discharge an obligation, or the risk of laboring without reward. If all went well, the Rook might fulfill his mandate—finally laying to rest whatever had spurred the creation of Nadežra’s outlaw.

But if it didn’t, then all those generations of Rooks would fail. They’d struggled in the shadows to fight the nobility and the Cinquerat, without people ever knowing their names or what they sacrificed. And all of it would be for nothing.

Ren recited the closing prayer and swept the cards together. She shuffled the deck seven times to thoroughly hide the card fate hadn’t wanted her to see. Then she sat with her head in her hands, massaging her temples and feeling like someone had put her brain through a meat grinder.

The pattern hadn’t told her what she most wanted to know: who the Rook was.

But it had, in its way, told her what she needed to know. So long as she didn’t make herself the Rook’s enemy, he had no reason to betray her. And given what she’d seen—far beyond what the legends said—she might even manage to help him.

A faint creak alerted her that Tess was awake; a moment later, her sister appeared in the doorway, eyes bleary and curls going every direction. “What are you doing?”

Through the window Ren could see the knife-sharp crescent of Paumillis rising. It was nearly dawn. How long had she spent lost in the intricacies of pattern?

“Getting answers,” she said, picking up her cards. “Let’s go to the kitchen, and I will tell you what I know.”

19

Labyrinth’s Heart

Isla Prišta and Isla Traementis: Cyprilun 31

A messenger rang the doorbell at the unholy hour of second sun the next morning, bearing a note from Tanaquis. She believed she’d devised a way to verify Renata’s claim of a curse, and wanted to test everyone connected with House Traementis in any capacity to see how far the ill fortune extended. To that end, she’d summoned Renata to Traementis Manor—the last place Ren wanted to set foot.

“What about Giuna?” Tess asked, biting her lip. “Do you think she’ll have said anything?”

“Who knows,” Ren said grimly. “I suppose I’ll find out.”

Colbrin at least treated her no differently than usual, except that he guided her and Tess to the ballroom instead of the parlour or study. Luckily, the large numinat Tanaquis had chalked onto the polished floor helped distract Ren from the memories of Leato that haunted the place. The astrologer was busy examining her handiwork, watched by the servants who waited to one side in murmuring rows. As for Giuna…

The girl hesitated at the sight of Renata, then squared her shoulders and approached. “I haven’t said anything,” she murmured. “Mother doesn’t need another shock. Which means you’d best continue calling me Giuna, and I will call you Renata.”

A little of Ren’s tension vanished. She’d been wondering how to navigate that particular shoal: She didn’t want to offend Giuna with her usual familiarity, but she also didn’t want Donaia wondering why she’d returned to formal address. Her plan had been to avoid using Giuna’s name at all.

“Thank you,” she said. “And… thank you for the things you sent.”

Color suffused Giuna’s cheeks, and of course that was the moment Tanaquis took note of the world around her. “Alta Giuna, are you feeling well?”

Pressing her fingers to her flushed skin, Giuna nodded. “I’m only nervous. I… I won’t burn to a cinder if I step in there, will I?”

Her question sank everyone into silence. Less than two weeks had passed since Leato was cremated in the Ninatium.

Renata cleared her throat. “I’ll go first. Unless Meda Fienola needs us in a specific order?”

“Hmm? No, that’s acceptable. Stand here.” Tanaquis tapped the center of a vesica piscis on the sunwise side of the spiral. Then she pulled a small set of scissors from her surcoat pocket. “And I’ll need a lock of your hair.”

“Here now!” Tess snapped before Tanaquis could bring the shears anywhere near Renata. “I’ll be doing that, if you don’t mind.” Always armed with her own mending kit, Tess carefully unpinned a curl, tied it off with a ribbon, snipped, and handed the cutting to Tanaquis.

Taking part in a numinatrian ritual turned out to be astonishingly boring. All Renata did was stand where Tanaquis had indicated while the astrologer placed the lock of her hair at a different point, then set the focus and closed the circle of the numinat. At least during a dress fitting I have to turn around and raise my arms occasionally.

Then she realized a thin curl of smoke was rising from the opposite side of the numinat. As she watched, a flame licked up, and her hair burned away.

Tanaquis made some notes. Then she broke the encircling line. “Thank you, Alta Renata. Alta Giuna, if you’d go next?”

As Tess was cutting Giuna’s hair, Donaia arrived. She was far from her usual self; the auburn of her hair was dulled, as though she’d set it with powder rather than washing it, and her surcoat was matted with fur, like she’d been clutching Meatball for comfort.

“You started already? What did I miss?” Then she wrinkled her nose. “And what is that smell?”

Before Renata could answer, Tanaquis set the focus back in place. The stench of burning hair increased as Giuna’s lock also went up in flames.

Renata’s stomach clenched. Did the hair burning indicate the person was cursed? But I’m not a member of House Traementis. She couldn’t say that, and despite questions from Donaia and Giuna, Tanaquis provided no answers—only broke the numinat and asked for Donaia next.

Donaia’s hair went up in a flash of white flame.

Then Colbrin and the other servants submitted to Tess’s shears and Tanaquis’s test. Not one lock of hair from