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

was the fact that the woman had yet to take notice of her. But at last that had changed, with Faella beckoning her over.

She wasn’t foolish enough to mistake this for a conversation. It was a test: a chance for Renata to prove she was worth taking notice of. If Faella approved of her, many more doors would open. If she didn’t…

Her compliment lifted the bored sag of Faella’s eyelids. The old woman shifted forward in her high-backed chair, actually looking at Renata instead of through her. “Why thank you, Alta Renata. Our Bondiro has dragged my ear into the soup, nattering on about your excellent taste, but I wasn’t certain I believed him until this evening.” A wave of her hand took in Renata’s appearance. “Am I correct that you’re responsible for the Traementis girl’s transformation as well?”

“I couldn’t bear seeing her in such appalling dresses any longer,” Renata acknowledged. “I offered Era Traementis the services of my maid.”

“I hope you reward her service well, or someone might steal her from you. And where do you come by your fabrics?” Faella hadn’t, Renata noted, answered the original question. But her gaze flicked briefly to Vargo, who sat across the room stringing several Indestor and Coscanum cousins along in a game of sixes. “I haven’t seen this velveteen on offer anywhere yet.”

Renata smiled blandly. “I find it useful to have connections. Don’t you?”

Faella could have soaked up the rains with the dryness of her response. “That depends on what use you put them to, I suppose.”

“Why, for the benefits of one’s friends, of course.”

Nodding as though Renata had given the only possible correct answer, Faella said, “How happy I am to call a woman such as yourself friend, then. With so much to plan, I haven’t been able to spare a moment to think of the wedding clothes for Marvisal and Mezzan.”

Renata leaned in close, pressing one hand to her heart. Victory. “You must allow me to loan you my maid’s services. She does such splendid work.”

“If you think you can spare her.” Faella’s rheumy eyes twinkled, making Renata wonder how often she got to haggle for social favors like this. Many people wanted something from Alta Faella, but it must have been rare for Faella to want anything from someone else. “I trust your source for the latest materials will prove amenable as well? You must let me know if I can ever return your kindness.”

Can I risk it? She’d only just met Faella, and the old woman had a reputation for burying people in the silt on a whim. But Renata had been searching for another solution for weeks, without luck. And she suspected Faella might admire a well-placed touch of audacity.

As if the thought had just come to her, Renata said, “I was intending to have tea with Nanso Bagacci tomorrow. I would be honored if you would join us—as a friend.”

Then she tried not to hold her breath. Faella would know perfectly well that Bagacci had recently disgraced himself in a doomed love affair with a woman from House Simendis. Being seen in public with Alta Faella would amount to a social pardon.

Why Bagacci mattered to Renata, Faella might or might not be able to guess. It depended on if her ear for gossip extended far enough into the political sphere. But that mystery might just be what tempted her.

Faella tapped her fan against her knee, transparently delaying to keep Renata in suspense. Then, as if it had required no thought at all, she said, “Who doesn’t enjoy tea with friends? I’ll tell them to reserve my usual table at the Eight Stars. Now stop wasting your best years on an old turtle like myself. Young women are meant to be dancing.”

It took all of Renata’s self-control not to skip with sheer triumph as she left the room. Faella Coscanum’s public approval, a chance to widen the crack in Indestor’s relations with Coscanum, and Nanso Bagacci taken care of—what more could she ask for?

Things could still fall apart. But with one victory so close, she couldn’t resist veering past Scaperto Quientis in the ballroom. “Your Grace. Your shipment should be released by… the day after tomorrow?”

He blinked in surprise. After the long silence following his challenge, he must have written her off as a lost cause. “How—”

But before he could get the question out, a half-gloved hand closed around Renata’s arm. “Alta Renata,” a rich voice purred.

She turned to see Sostira Novrus, tall and severe in finely tailored grey. “Dance with me,” Era Novrus said. It took the form of a command rather than a request, with no chance to disobey; she steered Renata bodily into the whirl.

Dancing with Sostira Novrus was a lesson in the difference between leading and dominating. Her spine was steel, her grip firm, and not once did she take her gaze off Renata’s face. Being seen like this with a member of the Cinquerat should have been a positive thing. But Renata had no idea what the woman wanted with her, and that made her apprehensive. Her own movements were stiff, her pace a breath behind.

If Sostira noticed, she made no comment. “You’re very beautiful, but I suspect you hear that often. Do you tire of it?”

Renata kept her smile in place, but inside, her gut twisted. Your pretty face…

Whether she appreciated such compliments or not seemed to be of little interest to Era Novrus. The woman had all the subtlety of the spring floods: One saw them coming and could only brace against their force. Then the whirl of the dance took them past Giuna, now in Sibiliat’s arms. Giuna, who had mentioned at the Autumn Gloria that Sostira Novrus broke marriage contracts as soon as she got bored, and was always looking for her next wife…

I’m not a target, Renata realized. I’m a horse at the fair, having my teeth and my gait examined.

But just when she’d settled into thinking Sostira’s interest in her was amorous, the woman changed