Reign of Beasts (Creature Court) - By Tansy Rayner Roberts Page 0,66
you done so far?’
‘You walked away from me,’ Velody accused. ‘You turned your backs and ran to Garnet the first chance you got, every single one of you. You left me bleeding on the ground. Why should I be loyal to you after that?’
‘Because,’ said Livilla with a shrug, ‘you’re nicer than me.’
Hard to argue with that.
‘I can’t fight Garnet alone, you know that,’ Velody warned.
‘Well, then,’ said Livilla. ‘We’d better get Ashiol back, hadn’t we?’
Velody had visited the Palazzo several times before, as the Duchessa’s dressmaker. This was altogether different. She was passed from secretary to secretary, none of whom was prepared to answer her question about the whereabouts of the Ducomte d’Aufleur.
It was hard to tell whether the presence of Livilla helped or hindered. Her casual, moneyed air did indeed make Velody feel more confident about being here, but on the other hand there was the possibility that she might start screaming randomly or breaking things and that was enough to make anyone nervous.
‘I don’t see why Ashiol should be the one to live in a Palazzo,’ Livilla drawled during one of the many gaps between secretaries. ‘He doesn’t appreciate it. Not in the least.’ She moved to the window and let the thin muslin of the curtain swish over her hand. ‘All these fine things. This would make a dreamy dress.’
Velody laughed suddenly. ‘I thought I was the only one who wanted to strip this place of its furnishings and make them into frocks.’
They shared a startled look of mutual appreciation.
A young, rather stuffy factotum in a bright cravat stepped into the room and regarded Livilla with distaste. ‘Demoiselles, I regret to inform you that the Ducomte is unavailable.’
Livilla let the curtain fall from her fingers. ‘Do I remember you? That spotty little face seems familiar.’
The factotum screwed up said face, which was indeed rather mottled. ‘It would be for the best if you left, demoiselle. Immediately.’
‘No,’ Velody said quietly. The man had barely acknowledged her presence. ‘I’m afraid we can’t leave until we’ve spoken to the Ducomte.’
‘The Ducomte is away,’ said the factotum between his teeth. ‘He accompanied my mistress to Bazeppe on a diplomatic mission.’
‘Your mistress returned for the games,’ said Velody, still calm and reasonable. ‘Word in the marketplace is that the Ducomte returned with her.’
‘I cannot be expected to respond to what is said in the marketplace,’ he sneered. ‘The Ducomte is not available to you.’
Velody despaired, just for a moment. This ridiculous petty bureaucracy was so unnecessary. She needed Ashiol, and if this ridiculous man wouldn’t give him to her, she was going to have to try another way.
She reached out blindly for the nearest object and her hand closed around the cool surface of a vase. Animor swelled up under her skin. Velody had barely used it for so long, but there it was, an old and reliable friend.
‘You stand there, so smug and self-satisfied,’ she said. ‘As if keeping me from the Ducomte is some kind of achievement. The city could fall and burn if you don’t help me. It’s my job to save it.’
The glass of the vase crumbled into powder. The floor rippled under their feet. Plaster peeled from the ceiling. The glass-drop beads of the chandelier above their heads began to pop, one after another.
Livilla giggled.
‘How … are you doing that?’ said the factotum with a gulp.
Velody smiled. ‘I very much wish to see the Ducomte. If you won’t bring him to me, I’ll have to call him. I think he’ll recognise the tone of my voice.’
The window broke, one pane at a time. Livilla threw up her own animor and the glass hovered around her like a cloud of interesting flies.
‘You could warn a demme before you do that,’ she grumbled.
‘No time,’ said Velody, eyes on the factotum. ‘I’m sorry, did you say you were bringing Ashiol right away?’
He turned and fled.
‘At least being thrown out of a Palazzo by a horde of lictors will be a new and exciting experience,’ Livilla mused, clearing away her halo of broken glass with a flick of her wrist.
‘At the very least,’ said Velody. She sat down to wait.
Ten minutes later, the Duchessa d’Aufleur entered the room. She was alone. No secretaries or lictors to protect her. No Ashiol, either.
‘Is this how you behave in your world, dressmaker?’ she demanded of Velody. ‘If you cannot have what you want, you break things like a child throwing a tantrum?’