The Chronicles of Nir

15 | A Troubling Image

Thaddeus Vine was as good as his word and gave his guests an entire wing of his expansive, if oddly perpendicular, townhouse. Maisie, Eri, and Tallon each had a bedroom of their own, with separate bathing chambers—one shared by the two men, and one for Maisie alone. Hers, she discovered, was the more luxurious of the pair, with a deep porcelain tub fed by steam-driven plumbing—real, sturdy copper and brass Dwarvenware.

Before she indulged herself, however, Maisie made a thorough check of both the bathing chamber and her bedroom. Serving under Lord Strobelius had taught her to expect nothing less than the absolute worst of nobles; she wasn't about to give Thaddeus Vine the benefit of the doubt, especially given his questionable taste in decor.

Finding no peepholes, she relaxed, and luxuriated in warm, sudsy water until her fingers and toes resembled prunes. At last, she rose, dried off, and dressed herself before rejoining Tallon and Eri in their shared sitting room. She found them lounging at opposing angles, apparently doing their best not to look one another in the eye.

"Well," she said, seating herself in the remaining chair, which resembled a large, overstuffed throne upholstered in peony-hued crushed velvet. "What are we to do next?"

Tallon lifted his feet in perfect synchronization with Scamp as she and Sprout chased each other through the suite. A nearly empty glass of whiskey rested in his hand. "We wait, I suppose."

"Wait for what?" Maisie asked, leaning forward. She could dearly use a drink herself, but didn't dare ask.

Perhaps sensing this, Eri cast her a wink, poured a splash of whiskey in a flat-bottomed glass, and handed it to her without asking if she wanted it or not.

"For the fat cats to invite the mice to the ball, I suppose," he said. "What else?"

"I'd storm that woman's mansion right now if I knew I wouldn't be hanged or thrown into the stockades," Tallon grumbled. After everything that had transpired, he was sore, miserable, and not half as drunk as he wished. Until that invite came, he could do nothing. Even worse, his link to Ben remained closed. He drained his glass and poured himself another drink. "Part of me feels the punishment would be worth breaking Ben out of that place."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," Eri murmured, picking dirt from beneath his nails as he lounged in his chair.

Tallon leaned forward, a murderous look directed Eri's way, when a knock sounded at the door.

Maisie bolted from her seat.

"I'll get it, m'lord," she said, casting Tallon a quelling glance as she crossed the room with a dignified pace, giving her master the chance to compose himself. Opening the door, she found herself face to face with Thaddeus Vine.

"Lord Vine," she said, enunciating her words with care and curtsying. "A good evening to you, sir."

Warmth danced behind Thaddeus' hazel eyes. He wore a clean, navy blue housecoat over plain black trousers. Damp hair curled near the nape of his neck where it hung loose.

"Good evening, Ms. Barnes! How do you like the accommodations? I am dreadfully sorry for scampering away earlier, but hopefully I can make it up to you all."

On cue, he produced a thick black envelope and held it out to Maisie. "While I was about my errands, I spoke to some friends about my esteemed company. Everyone is foaming at the mouth for a glimpse of a Nir champion. It didn't take long for word to reach the right ears."

Maisie took the envelope and read the address. "Lord Thaddeus P. Vine, and guests." Opening it, she withdrew a thick, black card with shiny gold filigree depicting a hand holding a rose with a snake twined about the wrist and three stars above. Below this was a simple date and time, written in elegant lettering.