Basco looked Satchel up and down.

  “Well now, don’t you look sharp,” he said. “Amazing what a bath and some new clothes will do for a young man.”

  Standing a few feet away from Basco, dressed in his new suit, Satchel observed himself in front of a mirror. His dark brown breeches and tan vest fit well over the white stockings and shirt. The overcoat, also dark brown, was adorned with silk and sequins. The white cravat tied neatly around his neck completed the ensemble. The outfit—along with his now combed hair—made Satchel look most prim and proper.

  And he hated it.

  Jarek and Basco had returned to the manor during lunch but could spare no time for Satchel. Basco tended to the party preparations and Jarek disappeared into the study. Satchel spent the afternoon helping the servants clean or carry crates into the kitchen. The tailor came late with Satchel’s garments and helped him dress.

  “I look stuffy,” said Satchel.

  “You look grand.” Basco checked his pocket watch. “Most of the guests will have arrived by now.”

  He then led Satchel in the direction of the ballroom. They stopped now and then so Basco could speak with various guests. Mindful of his duties as host, he gave them his full attention, but not for a second longer than necessary, and then moved on.

  Satchel observed all this in silence. The atmosphere and people were entirely foreign to him. The only time he ever consorted with members of the upper class was when he pinched their money. Knowing full well that Jarek would skin him alive if he swiped anything from Basco’s guests, Satchel kept his hands in his pockets as a precaution. Lady Montague had told him that it was not gentlemanly to do so while in the company of ladies, but the Lady wasn’t nearly as scary as Jarek.

  After leaving a pair of old women who wore too much powder on their faces, Satchel asked, “Where is Jarek?”

  “Still in the study I imagine,” said Basco.

  The young thief grimaced. Why did his master get to be there while he had to wear a stupid costume and talk with weird people he didn’t know?

  When they reached the ballroom, Satchel was amazed at how completely it had transformed. The chandeliers and candles gave the room a golden yellow glow. Conversation filled the room as various nobles and aristocrats greeted each other, laughed at each other’s jokes, and were generally polite to one another. Groups of young women gathered to gossip while groups of young men eyed them like hunters. Everyone enjoyed the food provided by Basco’s kitchen.

  From one of the groups of ladies, Satchel heard a familiar voice.

  “There you are!”

  It was Lady Montague. In a bright yellow dress gown, she looked even lovelier than earlier that day.

  “My, how handsome you look,” she said. Then, she giggled.

  Remembering his lessons Satchel said, “Thank you, my lady. You look…beautiful.”

  The Lady giggled again. “Why thank you Satchel, my dear. Here, come with me. I want to introduce you to some of the young ladies.”

  Satchel gave Basco a worried look as the Lady grabbed his hand and led him away. The party host chuckled and turned to another important-looking guest.

  The Lady shoved Satchel into a ring of girls. They all looked to be about the same age as him. Satchel felt like a prize cow at the Fall Festival in Ledion Square. The young ladies giggled at one another, said how wonderfully dashing he looked, and praised Lady Montague for bringing such a fine-looking boy. One or two asked if they could dance with him, but Lady Montague chastised them.

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  “Let the young man decide with whom he wishes to dance,” she said.

  Satchel felt the blood rush to his face. He stood still for a few uneasy moments as he took in each girl. He could feel his forehead getting warm and damp from sweat.

  “Well?” asked the Lady, insisting.

  Satchel shifted from one foot to the other. “I...um.”

  Then Addie walked into the room. The very sight of her put Satchel into a stupor. She was radiant. Her pearl-colored gown rested nicely on her shoulders, fitted well on her on her upper body, and flowed down elegantly from her waist. Rows of crimson silk roses trimmed with green lace ran like vines throughout the dress. A red stomacher made of a series of large bows bunched together stretched across her chest. White lace flowed out from the sleeves of the petticoat. Her long, bright orange hair had been curled and lay loose around her head, resting on her shoulders. She even had makeup on, something Satchel had never seen on her.

  Addie turned many men’s heads as she strolled into the ballroom and earned jealous looks from women both young and old. Soon a small company of young men hovered around her, giving her compliments and asking if she would perchance like to dance. She soaked up the attention and promised a dance to a few of them. Even Basco approached her and showered praises on her beauty and radiance. Satchel was stirred from his stupor by Lady Montague grabbing his hand and leading him away.

  She pulled him in close and whispered into his ear, “We worked all morning on your manners and dancing. I won’t allow that to go to waste while you ogle a woman dressed as outlandishly as that.”

  Satchel glared at her and asked, “Why are you so concerned about Addie? Besides,” he looked back at Addie, “I think she looks beautiful.”

  The Lady gave him a surprised look and asked, “You know her?”

  “Of course. Did B- Lord Albirac not tell you?”

  “Should he have?”

  Satchel’s mind stopped for a moment. Basco had neglected to tell the Lady about Addie. How do I explain this? he thought. To his relief, Basco’s booming voice filled the room. Everyone turned their attention to the musicians’ stage where he stood.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “I’d like to thank everyone for joining me for a night of fun and revelry. The recent turmoil between the Hegemony and the Komjin Empire has given us all enough reason to worry. This party is long overdue.”

  Murmurs of agreement came from the crowd.

  What did he mean by turmoil? thought Satchel.

  Basco continued, “I’m not one for long, drawn-out speeches. So with that, I ask that you all please make room so that the dancing may begin. I have a feeling tonight will be an especially memorable one. I will leave you with this piece of advice I received years ago from an old friend." He cleared his throat. "Enjoy the moments of respite every turn they come ‘round. There may come a day when all you know is gone and sleep becomes a luxury. In those days, you’ll need something to fight for.”

  Satchel’s eyes widened. Jarek had said those exact words to him two years ago after a night of too much ale.

  The audience was silent as Basco finished speaking. No one moved for a few long moments.

  Finally, someone yelled, “Three cheers for Lord Albirac!”

  All joined in the chorus of hurrahs. The room breathed a sigh of relief and became alive again. Basco nodded to the crowd and stepped off the stage as the musicians readied their instruments. The partygoers made room in preparation for the dance.

  The conductor then led his band of musicians. Satchel recognized the tune right away: “Gauphin’s No. 14.”

  He turned to say something to Lady Montague, but she had disappeared. He searched for her amongst the nearby crowd but saw no sign of her.

  Satchel watched couples twirl and spin as they danced across the ballroom. Addie danced with a tall blonde man in a soldier’s uniform. Satchel found that he wished the blonde man would march off a cliff. The air felt too thick, so Satchel headed for one of the doorways leading out into the back gardens. The night air—cool, still, and quiet—allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief. He found a small bench to lie on.

  The starry sky stretched out in all directions, and he took it all in. It reminded him of the night he had played Snag with Addie in Temna. Though only a week ago, it felt as though a whole year had passed. His mind drifted back to Ire, and he found that he missed the city that he knew so well.

  Funny, he thought. All the time I wanted to get away from there and now that I have, I want to go back.

  To his annoyance, the vision of Addie dancing with the handsome, blonde soldier came back, but he quickly pushed it aside. His mind flicked to the map he had seen in Basco’s study and the path leading away from the musical instrument. Why did it resonate with something within him? His thoughts drew up the image of that city, Makaran. Somehow the name was familiar to him, like something out of a distant memory. A sense of dread welled up inside of him as he traced the path of the hatched lines in his mind; the same dread he had felt around the mandolin player. And the tune began playing in his mind again.