I set out into the city. I had much to do. At the furrier's, I selected a suitable silver fox stole; then I visited several alchemical shops, purchasing the necessary ingredients for my thief's powder separately to avoid arousing suspicion. The dog whistle proved more troublesome—I called upon every potter in the city, but none would take the commission. Fortunately, it occurred to me to seek a craftsman within the Academy walls. Toward evening, I ventured beyond the city walls; another look at the burgomaster's mansion was in order. The plan was good, but not perfect. Then again, perfect plans did not exist. I circled the estate, timing my circuits with my heavy Garlian pocket watch—sturdy mechanism—and roughing out a timeline. The results were not encouraging. Still, improvisation would be necessary.

  I went straight to the tailor in the morning, bringing Shade along. Izkhazi truly loved his wife, since he had worked a miracle. The hastily basted gown fit like a glove; only a minor adjustment to the insert was needed, to conceal a few scars. I spun before the mirror, examining the more-than-piquant cutaway with satisfaction. Shade regarded me disapprovingly; the tailor trembled like an aspen leaf.

  "Does it please you, madame?" He extended the sketch to me ingratiatingly. "I followed the drawing exactly."

  "Yes, it pleases me." I smiled contentedly and stretched like a well-fed cat. "Excellent work. Finish the seams and send the gown to my house—you must manage it by three. Shade, pay the master."

  I settled into a chair and gestured for the tailor to sit opposite. He practically collapsed into it, understanding the conversation was not over and dreading what I might demand next.

  "Master Izkhazi, you are a very fine tailor. I believe I mentioned yesterday that your wife is not entirely beyond hope..."

  The tailor started, gazing at me in fear. I raised a calming hand.

  "I might attempt to restore her mind, but... First, I wish to hear from you that this is what you want, and that you are prepared to do anything for your wife." I fixed him with a questioning stare.

  The tailor hesitated visibly.

  "Madame, I beg you, understand me correctly—I mean no offense—but when Adele's condition worsened, I paid a soul-scientist from the Academy... He said—please understand, I'm not questioning your word in the slightest!—he said her state would only deteriorate further... That one could only ease the symptoms, never achieve a full cure..."

  I smiled contemptuously.

  "What do those fools know! Well, as you wish. I offered; if you're not interested, I won't force you."

  I rose abruptly. The tailor scrambled to his feet after me.

  "Wait! You didn't finish—what would you require of me? If there's hope for my Adele, I'm willing to try. Only, I've almost no money left..."

  I approached Izkhazi, lifted his chin with my fingers, and stared into his eyes.

  "I don't need your money. You will stop drinking. You will start taking commissions again. After I appear at the burgomaster's reception, you'll have no shortage of new orders, have no doubt. But if you lose heart, if I catch so much as a whiff of wine on you, if..."

  The tailor swallowed nervously. He was clearly afraid of me, and that was all to the good.

  "In return, I ask for something modest: a permanent discount on my commissions and priority service. Do you hear me? Even if the voivodessa herself was to grace your shop, my order comes first!"

  "Of course, of course—have no doubt!" The tailor dropped to his knees and clutched at my skirt. "If you heal my Adele, I'll pray to you! I beg you, anything, anything at all!"

  "Get up!" I hauled him to his feet, pushed him back into the chair, and nodded to Shade. "My assistant will now sketch your daughter's portrait. Describe Eva to her."

  The tailor cast a distrustful glance at Shade but obediently began describing his girl. With swift strokes, Shade produced a sketch and showed it to the father. He trembled violently and once again fell to his knees.

  "Madame, I beg you—leave me this drawing, I implore you! I've nothing left to remember her by! And here, Eva is as if alive! So happy, laughing. She..."

  He dissolved into sobs, tears and mucus streaming. I grimaced distastefully and nodded to Shade; she handed me the sketch with some reluctance. The girl had indeed been pretty.

  "Master Izkhazi, compose yourself. I will give you the drawing, but later. For now, I need some of the girl's belongings. You haven't thrown anything away, have you?"

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  "Why?" The tailor still couldn't collect himself.

  "I don't intend to explain everything now. Just bring me a dress and shoes—perhaps a ribbon for her hair, like the one in the portrait."

  Shade stared at me with undisguised horror. She had likely imagined I meant to work sorcery on the portrait and summon the dead.

  Once outside, she dared to ask, "Why does madame need the girl's things? What will you do with them?"

  "What else? To summon her spirit, of course."

  Shade recoiled in terror.

  "Oh, by the One, I'm joking! Calm yourself. Now, you're going to take this portrait to the orphanages." I handed her the addresses. "Inquire whether they have any girls of roughly the same age who resemble her. Understood? The resemblance needn't be exact. Just look at similar girls and sketch their portraits. Mind you, you must be back by three to collect my gown. Then you may return Eva's drawing to her father."

  I gave Anton his final instructions and sent him on his way. The gown fit as though molded to my form, accentuating my figure to perfection. My hair was swept up in an elaborate coiffure, with a single long curl trailing down my back. My lucky pick, fashioned as a silver hairpin, nestled among the tresses. I donned earrings of black diamonds set in silver, and a matching ring. Poor Khan Li Min—if he only knew what I'd done with his rare Black Eye diamond, and what I'd transformed it into. One final touch: I pressed my lips to a wafer of vivid red lipstick—a garish, saturated shade that demanded attention. If you wish to conceal something, put forth what you can afford to lose.

  With a last glance in the mirror, I descended to the parlor, where the inquisitor awaited. I paused dramatically on the stairs, savoring the theatrical moment. The inquisitor swept an indifferent gaze over me and urged me to hurry. For the occasion, he had donned his formal black robe, embroidered with gold; his long hair, customary for clergymen, was drawn up in a ceremonial style. The pretty man looked equally striking and commanding. How I longed to rattle that composure of his, but for now, I held my tongue...

  "Do come down."

  I descended with deliberate slowness. The inquisitor circled me, scrutinizing every detail. If only he didn't insist I remove the fox stole—otherwise, all would be lost.

  "I warned you: I will not tolerate such garish makeup."

  I lowered my eyes in feigned embarrassment.

  "Wipe that lipstick off at once! Such a vulgar shade—could you think of nothing better?"

  With agonizing slowness, drawing out the moment, I produced a handkerchief and compact mirror from my reticule and obediently began to wipe away the lipstick.

  The inquisitor frowned suspiciously.

  "Why so silent? Cat got your tongue?"

  I set the mirror aside and raised my eyes, my manner and tone impeccably refined.

  "Forgive me, my lord, but you forbade me to interrupt." I felt myself sinking inexorably into the role of the Khan's favorite concubine—curse him...

  The handsome narrowed his eyes and circled me once more.

  "So now you're playing the part of exemplary behavior? Exquisite manners? No rudeness, no insolence, no impropriety? Well-well, we shall see how long you can sustain it. I trust you'll manage until the end of the reception. Come, we're already late."

  I followed meekly, hiding a treacherous smile in the fox fur.

  In the carriage, I merely handed him a note with questions for baroness Malko. The inquisitor read them with a scowl, folded the paper, and tucked it into an inner pocket of his robe. The silence was clearly weighing on him, unsettling his equilibrium.

  "Do you intend to remain silent the entire way?"

  "What does my lord wish to hear?"

  My voice was soft as Sibersk silk.

  "Stop this clowning! You won't deceive me, whatever game you're playing."

  I lowered my head and held my tongue.

  "At the reception, you will not leave my side—not a single step. You will provoke no one, cling to no one, be rude to no one. You will not speak to baroness Malko."

  I nodded obediently, maintaining my silence.

  The carriage came to a halt, and the inquisitor dutifully offered me his arm to help me alight. Thus escorted, we ascended the grand staircase and were announced by the master of ceremonies. Our pair drew involuntary attention, owing chiefly to the inquisitor's formal robes. The Holy Inquisition was a power before which even the mighty bowed their heads; its representative inspired awe and reverence. I kept modestly to his shadow, and only when we reached the central hall, where the most distinguished guests gathered in the presence of the burgomaster himself, did I at last raise my eyes to survey the company.

  The glittering opulence of the decor, the extravagant and costly attire of the guests, immediately caught the eye. The regrettable taste displayed by most of the ensembles gave one pause. A few fine heirloom jewels adorned several noble women, and little else of note. Mentally marking those with whom I should cultivate acquaintance, my gaze finally found baroness Malko amidst the reception's bustle. In a crimson-red, low-cut gown, with an elaborate coiffure of luxuriant dark hair, she stood out from the crowd like a rare, exotic, and exceedingly poisonous flower. No—a toadstool, rather. The arbiter of fashion, a habituée of lavish receptions, she was accustomed to being the center of attention. How would she react when attention shifted elsewhere?

  We were presented to the burgomaster. Seated across from the tall, portly man, I studied him carefully.

  "Monsieur inquisitor, I am pleased to welcome you to our city. Have you settled in comfortably?"

  While the handsome exchanged courteous formalities with the burgomaster, I allowed my stole to slip carelessly from one shoulder. A faint murmur of curiosity, still within the bounds of propriety, rippled through the quiet hum of the hall. I bestowed a dazzling smile upon the burgomaster, remembering, with a silent, unsentimental thought, Mother Gyun, who had materialized in the corner of the settee and now sat opposite, eyes downcast, hands meekly folded in her lap. Yes, I remember your teachings, I remember! The Khan's senior wife, fallen from favor and sent into exile, to groom and instruct inexperienced concubines for her former husband's harem. Fate was cruel to you, but you did not break. You still give me the strength to achieve my goals at any cost. I remember your lessons, your invaluable wisdom. And I am immeasurably grateful. Forgive me that I could not protect you.

  "Monsieur inquisitor, will you not introduce your modest companion? It is so rare nowadays to encounter such a well-mannered and beautiful young woman..."

  The inquisitor turned to me reluctantly and said:

  "Kreta Lidia Chrysstein. Burgomaster Avet Eldari."

  "A pleasure to make your acquaintance." I inclined my head even lower, my voice barely above a whisper.

  The burgomaster was obliged to lean closer to hear.

  "Such modesty. Have you been in the city long?"

  "Six months now, monsieur." I ventured to raise my eyes and offer a shy smile. "I know scarcely anyone here, so pray forgive me, monsieur —I fear I might say something foolish."

  The burgomaster laughed, his gaze turning sticky and covetous. He had already conjured an image of a lone, virtuous maiden—easy prey.

  "Oh, my dear, not at all. There's no need to fear me. Your youthful beauty would eclipse any foolishness you might utter."

  "Monsieur inquisitor," I gestured discreetly toward the frowning handsome, "was kind enough to agree to introduce me to high society. I am immeasurably grateful."

  "Have you come to the city alone, or with your parents?"

  "With my brother." I lowered my head again. "We've opened a private investigation office and barely scrape by. We've even had to pawn the family jewels."

  I twisted the ring on my finger, drawing my companion's attention to the rare, unusually cut black diamond. Greed now kindled in the burgomaster's eyes as well. He was clearly fond of gold and gems—and his house would no doubt yield a fine bounty of both.

  "Forgive me, monsieur. I believe I've spotted an acquaintance of my father's—how strange."

  I arranged my features into an expression of confusion and doubt, rose, and turned abruptly to leave. The stole slipped entirely from my shoulders; I heard the burgomaster's strangled gasp as the breathtaking cutaway on my back was revealed. The inquisitor, unable to see the impropriety, merely stared in bewilderment at his interlocutor's reddening face, understanding nothing. Before a full-blown scandal could erupt, I made straight for the witch, stumbled along the way, and halted as if frozen, staring at her with a foolish, astonished expression.