Scholar of Decay (16 page)

“No.” His brother’s expression convincing him he’d been, perhaps, a bit abrupt, Aurek added, “I don’t care for parties and see no reason to attend. You, of course, may go or not, as you wish.”

Dmitri caught at Aurek’s sleeve as he pushed past, not even noticing the resultant glare as his mind searched furiously for a way to persuade his brother that tonight’s event was one he shouldn’t miss. Louise had been very explicit about her expectations. “They’ve, uh, been asking about you.”

Pale brows rose. “Who has?”

Who indeed. “Well, you know …”

“No. I don’t.” Aurek impatiently tapped the fingers of his free hand against the bottom curve of the bannister. “If I did, I wouldn’t have asked.”

Biting back his rising anger at Aurek’s patronizing tone, Dmitri snapped, “The Reniers. That is, not the whole family but enough of them.” He saw he’d made an impression and hurriedly continued. “I think they may be getting, well, insulted that you’ve, you know, been ignoring them.”

“I haven’t been ignoring them!”

Dmitri shrugged. “It looks that way, doesn’t it? You never go anywhere they are.”

He seems pleased with himself, Aurek thought. I assume he got
the reaction he wanted. Aurek set aside his annoyance, uncertain if it was directed at his brother or himself, and tried to consider Dmitri’s words objectively. While he couldn’t swear that none of the Renier family had seen him—there were enough common rats in the buildings he searched without assuming that the noises he heard were anything more—he had seen only Louise and Jacqueline since the party where he’d first met them. And the second meeting with Louise could hardly have been called a social occasion.

If other members of the family felt they’d been insulted by his absence, they could easily interfere with his search. That must not be allowed to happen.

“Very well,” he sighed, deploring the waste of his time. “I’ll go.”

“Great.” Dmitri released him. “Now, about your clothes …”

Aurek shook his head. “If you’re suggesting I go out looking like a ragbag, think again.” He lifted the small candelabra off the table at the bottom of the stairs and started toward the second floor, the three candles making his shadow dance against wallpaper Edik had glued piece by tattered piece back into place. “I have no wish to look like anything but what I am.”

I have no wish to look like anything but what I am, Dmitri mocked silently. “And what is it you are?”

Aurek paused, turned, and stared down at his brother in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you have something you’d like to tell me?”

“Only what I’ve already told you: stop seeing Louise Renier.”

Dmitri’s eyes flashed; he’d given Aurek a chance and had it thrown right back in his face. “You,” he snarled, “have no right to try to run my life.”

To his surprise, Aurek merely stared at him a moment longer, his expression above the beard soft and sad. He sighed again, then said, as he continued climbing, “No. I don’t.”

“This is so lame,” Yves muttered. “The same people, the same music, the same stupid plots and counterplots.” He threw both arms open wide and scowled at the dance floor where couples whirled carefully around each other, the family members a little more graceful maneuvering and a little more brutal on impact. “We dance, we drink, we eat; nothing ever changes.”

“Food’s better,” Georges pointed out, mouth full.

Yves flicked a piece of cake onto the floor. “So what? That’s just because Jules Ebert is sucking up.”

Ebert’s family had started as scavengers and risen in a generation and a half to control all of the grain that came into the city. Those who wanted breads of any kind had to deal with Jules Ebert. This was his first attempt to buy his way into the privileged upper classes, and he was spending most of his time sweating in fearful anticipation. A chance to gorge at another’s expense was enough for most of the Reniers, but social success required either Jacqueline or Louise—neither of whom had so far put in an appearance.

Georges swallowed and pointed. “Looks like the little Nuikin dragged his big brother along.”

“And it looks like Chantel’s attached herself to the little Nuikin,” Yves growled. “She’s going to get her tail ripped off if she isn’t careful.”

Georges shrugged. “Louise said we could play with him when she didn’t want him, and she isn’t … Hey!” He clamped his palm against bleeding scratches on one cheek and glared at his cousin.

Yves lifted his upper lip off his teeth. “Who said I was talking about Louise?”

“You’re jealous!”

Realizing he’d given away far more than he’d intended to, Yves
crammed a cake into his mouth and muttered around it, “Who said I was talking about me?”

Ignoring the blood dripping onto his tattered collar, Georges allowed Yves the point and continued eating. If Yves wanted Chantel, that was no business of his. If Chantel wanted the little Nuikin, that was no business of his either. Of the two ways to survive in the family, aggression or invisibility, he chose the latter, and he worked very hard at staying out of those corners where he’d have no choice but to fight.

I will grow old, he thought with smug satisfaction, keeping one eye out for Annette and the twins and the other on Yves just in case his temper flared again. The family had an overabundance of power seekers, but faithful lieutenants were much harder to find.

Across the room, a sudden burst of wild laughter spun Aurek around to find the source. A portly matron stared at him in some astonishment and dragged her laughing beau to a more private area.

Fighting to keep his hands from trembling, Aurek took a long swallow of wine—white wine that held no reflection. In every chuckle, every giggle, every snicker throughout the house, he could hear echos of the wizard who had destroyed his life. Faith had turned to ash again and again as the ruins of the city yielded nothing, and he feared that by holding so tightly to the small amount of hope remaining, he’d begun to let go of sanity.

He was lost outside the safety of his study or the parameters of his search. Dancers swirled by, random shapes and colors assaulting the rigid self-control he struggled to maintain. The music struck his ears as a cacophony of individual notes without tune or pattern. It had been a mistake to come.

But would it have been a greater mistake to annoy the Reniers of Richemulot further?

Searching for a little quiet and a chance to pull himself together, Aurek made his way to the cardroom. Although the noise levels were just as high, at least no one was laughing. He watched Laurent Haurie blatantly cheat while sycophantic members of the merchant class marveled at his luck and praised his ability. Married to Antoinette Renier, the elder and seldom-seen sister of Jacqueline and Louise, Laurent obviously took as much advantage of the relationship as he could. Aurek couldn’t see a blood member of the family bothering to cheat at cards. Not only would every one of them expect to win, they’d expect the other players to take care of it.

Eyes glittering in the lamplight, Laurent threw down his final grubby cardboard rectangle. “I win again,” he crowed. “Once more, the imperial suite.”

The emperor on the face of the card began to laugh maniacally, his wild hair all but burying the seven pointed crown.

“No!”

In the sudden silence, the dance music spilled loudly into the room.

Laurent stood, mouth twisted unpleasantly, and slowly turned. “Are you suggesting I didn’t win?” he snarled.

Aurek reached out and touched the card, now merely a badly painted portrait of an emperor no one knew. He had seen …

What had he seen?

“I’m talking to you, Borcan.”

Finally focusing on Laurent’s face, some hint of the danger he was in penetrated Aurek’s panic. This man had actually married one of the Reniers. Married a wererat. The concept made him feel ill. “I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”

“Are you deaf as well as stupid? You challenged my win.”

“No. I didn’t. Of course you won.” Bowing quickly, Aurek hurried from the room.

When Laurent merely watched him go, no one else tried to stop him. “Pet of my sister-in-law’s,” he said sitting down, as though that were explanation enough.

Which it was.

“It’s nice to see you again, Aurek. You look terrible.”

He hadn’t seen Louise approach, and he jerked back a step, nearly stumbling over a heavy wood and leather chair.

Hiding her smile, she waited until he steadied himself before continuing. “I’m glad you’re here tonight because I have something for you. A cousin of mine heard you were searching for magical artifacts in the ruins.” A raised hand, jeweled rings flashing on three of four fingers, cut off the protest she could see rising in his eyes. “Who knows how he heard? People will gossip. Anyway, he gave me something to give to you. Says he found it under the city in some sort of ruined workshop.”

“Why did he give it to you?” Aurek asked, his voice hoarse as he fought to force the past back where it belonged.

Louise smiled, showing teeth. “I expect it’s because your brother and I are such friends.” She reached into the heavy folds of her skirt and pulled out an untidy package.

Desperately trying to regain the equilibrium he’d lost in the cardroom, Aurek shook his head.

“You don’t want it?” A slender finger flicked back a fold of bloodstained silk. “Are you sure?”

Aurek stared down at the flash of gold, his eyes widening as the power of the amulet, no longer blocked by the silk, began to seep
out into the room. “He found this under the city?” Almost of its own volition, his hand stretched out toward the amulet. Hope rose unbidden.

“That’s what I said. But if you don’t want it, I have better things to do than stand around offering it to you all evening.” With a twist of her wrist, she rewrapped the fabric and began to put the amulet away.

“No.” Aurek nearly snatched it off her palm. He swallowed once, hard, as his fist enfolded it, then, obviously no longer even aware of her, whispered, “Thank you. Thank you very much.” And nearly ran from the room.

“Well, I guess it was enough after all.” Louise looked around for someone to celebrate with, and her gaze fell on Jules Ebert who stood some distance away, staring at her in rapt adoration. She liked that in a man. Crossing to his side, she linked her arm in his while he was still trying to stammer out his appreciation. “Let’s go for a walk on the terrace,” she suggested, her tone making her meaning plain.

When she was finished, she left the body where it fell.