A Masquerade of Spiders

Chapter 8: Guilt and Lies

Chapter 8: Guilt and Lies

"Where's Marin?" I asked on that day, and received no answer.

The girl's bay-coloured hair fell down her back in gleaming wavelets as she took the boy's hand. Like every bride that ever was in Thamilna, she wore a two-layered white mask, lace upon linen. They shared a smile, moving up with the line of couples who stood before the Book-keeper.

All the village would gather for the weddings. They happened once a season, four times a year in Thamilna. The Book-keeper came by with the registrar, and wrote down the new couples, new babies born, crossing out those who had passed.

"But isn't that Marin's Blake?" I asked, scrutinising the next couple in line to announce their intentions to the Book-keeper.

Papà looked away, mamma pursed her lips.

I dared to be innocent, ignorant, after all I had done. In the name of my selfish ambition, I allowed myself to indulge in life and forget who suffered the consequences.

"He's been named heir to the Darlpria inn," papà eventually said. He didn't sound accusing, just resigned to the truth. "He wouldn't relinquish his right so he could marry Marin. Marin is the only heir to the vineyard, she could not give that up to marry Blake. He had to marry, but it could not be Marin."

By the Lords' law, a family was forbidden to own more than one holding, unless they were of the merchants' class. I took a step away from my parents, as the line of joyous couples continued to move up towards the Book-keeper.

"It's not on you, Yael," Mamma said.

But of course it was.

"Where's Marin?" I asked for the second time that night.

"Yael..." Mamma reached out to take my hand. "Marin's young. She'll love again and her heart will heal. "

I sniffed back tears and drew away from mamma. Home, Marin would be there, hurting and alone. I turned towards the path.

"Yael," Mamma called after me. "This isn't your fault. Leave Marin be."

What would have happened if I had listened? If I had turned back? If the harsh words weren't spoken between Marin and myself. If she wasn't driven to run out of the house, into the night and the welcoming arms of those ready to take her.

The actions had been mine.

And now, guilt and lies were my only companions.

***

When I returned to the room after lunch, I knew it had been searched. Whoever had done it had tried to be discreet, but since I was looking for the signs, I saw them. The mattress slightly out of place, the clothes hanging in the wardrobe shifted aside, a lump on the rug, a ruffled pillow.

The knife and the money were still where I hid them in the hem of the curtain.

I informed the maids that I would like to practice my needlework and spent the rest of the afternoon making stag embroidery to green silk handkerchiefs.

"You're quite skilled, my lady," said Miss Biluria, the servant.

"Do northern ladies not practice their needlework?" I asked.

"Lady Afali doesn't."

"Then best not to tell her how skilled I am," I said. "She seems to think herself more refined than us southerners. We wouldn't want to disprove her beliefs, now would we?"

I got a smile out of the servant, though she quickly attempted to conceal it. A little bit more time, and they would like me more than they feared Afali.

Later, the maids retreated to allow me to read a book of Cervi poetry as twilight descended. I used the needle and thread I hid up my sleeve to sew the hem of the curtain, then my evening meal arrived on a tray. I dined alone, the whole time thinking how I could get the information I needed when my every movement was watched.

There was a letter delivered to me with my evening meal. It was addressed to Dylana and the envelope had been slashed open. I finished eating first, then asked the maids to leave me in peace.

I read the letter to the candlelight. It was from Dylana's sister, Kitlidara, that had been sent a day after Dylana departed. Kitlidara hoped Dylana was well and that she had a safe journey. There were some details about the Tvereman family that were useful to me, the daughters and mother despised Lord Taffton Tvereman, head of the house. The sisters believed that Dylana's absence was just the beginning and that they would be sent away soon. The letter was heavy with endearments, but I didn't know whether they were for Dylana's sake or for the sake of those reading her messages.

There was very little I could do with this letter. I folded it and stuffed it back into the envelope, placing it on my bedside table.

My whole body shook. Ignorance was going to be my downfall. I needed an edge if I was ever going to keep this up.

Or perhaps it was best for me to find an opportunity to escape.

Every thought I tried to think lost its trail inside my mind, circling around my fear like wisps of smoke. I hadn't slept the night before, and wondered if I would ever be able to sleep again.

The maids came into the room to prepare me for bed.

I changed into a nightgown, and then sat before the vanity. They gave me a mask-changer.

The mask-changer was a wide linen sack one places over their head when they take off one mask to put on another. Although it took the spectres many long minutes to arrive, and changing masks took only a few seconds, most people used a mask changer.

Even I did when changing to my bathing mask and back.

I removed the hawk mask, fixing it to the face mannequin on the vanity. Then, carefully, I unfolded the sleep cap, setting it on the polished oak surface before me. Finally, I reached behind my head and untied the satin straps of the silk merchant mask. The same mask I stole off a clothes line in Klesei last night while my parents were getting arrested. These masks were so similar to the masks nobles wore to separate the precious metal from their skin that no one but a professional would be able to tell the difference.

Air touched my face. To be unmasked felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, looking into the chasm of your own mortality with the wind tugging you down. Was this what it was like for my parents?

The maids behind me, when they saw what I was doing, sent out a loud protest. But none of them dared to interfere.

I felt the muscles bunch in my cheeks, pushing just one corner of my mouth into a small smirk.

I stared at my face in the mirror, at the brighter skin around my eyes, temples and over the bridge of my nose. My heart raced. I usually changed masks in this fashion, enjoying that small moment of thrill, to be naked and free.

To dare myself towards the edge of my fear.

But now my hands hesitated over the sleep-cap, letting the fabric run between my fingers and the moment lengthened into a minute. There was an almost irritating sensation on my skin, as if I was still wearing a phantom mask. What was it about our maskless faces that called the spectres? Why was the only thing they could give us was death?

I thought of last night, when they came to take Marin. I thought of what I had seen that night, the sight that condemned me and my parents. My parents had been executed to silence the secret that I witnessed, this was what I believed.

How had it been possible?

I shook out the sleep cap and slid it over my head. There were holes for the eyes, nose and mouth, and a large opening in the back for the hair and ears. This sleep cap was dyed violet and softer than the one I normally slept in. I untangled my hair from the strip of fabric that went along the nape of my neck and one of the maids stepped forward to brush my locks and tie them in cloth rollers.

"Why did you do that?" she asked in a whisper. I looked at her face through the looking glass. Her name was Jeranine, and she didn't dare meet my gaze. "Have you no sense, lady?"

"There are two kinds of people in the world," I said. "The kind who shun death, as if that'll stop it...and the kind who embrace it."