repair to the Great Trine Room. For the safety of all, I must insist that everyone leave all weapons, magical or otherwise, with these gentlemen.” He nodded toward the thickset guards in gray. “They will be kept safe during the symposium.”
“Just a minute, Mirabilis,” Rocheblave said. “I want to know where the third sangrimancer is. I see animancers and now”—he nodded meaningfully at Stanton—“a veritable superfluousness of credomancers. But I see only two sangrimancers.”
“The third sangrimancer awaits us in the Great Trine Room,” Mirabilis said. “For reasons of safety, I insisted that he submit to a more intensive physical search.”
“Showy charlatan’s tricks,” Heusler grumbled. He lifted a bloated finger and pointed at Mirabilis, Tarnham, Ben, and Stanton in turn. “Why four credomancers?”
“Ben is my personal servant,” Mirabilis said. “He will not be participating as a colleague. As my secretary, Mr. Tarnham will be otherwise occupied, so I have asked Ben to record the events as they unfold.”
“Then he’s not a credomancer?”
“I serve the Sophos,” Ben said, and dipped his head meekly. Strangely enough, the answer seemed to satisfy them, though Emily wondered if any of the sangrimancers noticed that it wasn’t actually an answer at all.
“Please, gentlemen, let us proceed. The hour grows late.” Mirabilis gestured toward the gray-uniformed men who were standing at the doors.
“Going unarmed into Japheth Mirabilis’ center of power. I must be mad!” Rocheblave said as he surrendered his alembic and a large curved blade that was intricately chased in gold. He laid these on a tray covered with red velvet; the gray-uniformed guard holding the tray was careful not to touch the objects as he covered them with a piece of red silk.
“No one is required to participate, Mr. Rocheblave,” Mirabilis said.
Rocheblave snorted, shrugging off his expensive-looking jacket. One of the large gray men patted his arms and legs.
All the men were searched in turn. Heusler surrendered a glittering blade of black obsidian that he placed on the tray with delicate reverence. When Stanton’s turn came, he showed the contents of his pockets: a handkerchief and the misprision blade, which he removed from inside his coat and laid on the tray.
“Why, Mr. Stanton,” Heusler said drily, “you still carry a bleeding blade. Perhaps I was too quick when I assumed we sangrimancers would be outnumbered.”
“I also carry a handkerchief,” Stanton said, as he tucked the square of fabric back into his pocket. “It does not mean that I am consumptive.”
When all the men had been searched, the guards looked nervously at Emily and Miss Pendennis.
“Surely the women don’t need to be searched,” Ben ventured. Heusler pounced on the words like a cat on a cockroach.
“Of course they must be searched. I won’t volunteer my instruments of power and have some Witch slide through on the disingenuous pretense that she can’t stand to have a man touch her.” His eyes grazed the rest of the assembly, stopping on Stanton for a moment before coming to rest on Emily. “Miss Pendennis is not the only one with reservations about the caliber of individuals you’ve invited, Mirabilis.”
Mirabilis gestured to Miss Pendennis. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”
Miss Pendennis stood stalwartly, chin up, arms stretched out to her side, while an embarrassed man in gray ran quick hands over her waist, hips, and the bottoms of her legs.
“Miss Edwards?” Mirabilis gestured her forward.
Emily stepped up, and the guard repeated the perfunctory search, nodding approval. Heusler crossed his arms like a petulant toddler.
“I’m sure the straightforward Miss Pendennis lacks the imagination or inclination for subterfuge. But her …” Heusler shook a finger at Emily. “I want to see what the skycladdische has tucked into the tops of her stockings.”
“How dare you,” Stanton growled, but Emily had just about all she could stand of the insolent High Priest. Furiously, she reached down and grabbed handfuls of purple silk.
“Look all you want, you filthy bloodletter!” Emily hiked her skirts over her knees, revealing legs modestly stockinged in white. “Shall I strip naked and dance a mazurka?”
Heusler stared at her legs for a moment, then smirked disdainfully.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “I’ve seen what I need.”
Emily threw her skirts down and crossed her arms, looking away angrily. Miss Pendennis came up to her side, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“There’s the end to our carefully crafted illusion of reticence and delicacy.”
“I don’t care,” Emily whispered fiercely. “It doesn’t matter. They all think they know