I’m too late! The ruckus of the party rumbled below, migrating from the banquet to the main hall. Augustus finished his third sweep of the master bedroom and then pulled the door open.
Two guardsmen poked their heads in, searching for the ghost.
“Shrimp,” Gus whispered.
The smaller man grabbed his big friend’s arm. “Did you say that? Nico?”
“Let’s move to the end of the hall,” Nico said. He led the way.
Gus stirred up a light breeze with his cloak’s magic, sending a wave of cool air toward the men. He walked across the hall and gave the son’s door a push. The door flew open and thumped against the wall, which spurned the guardsmen to walk a little faster. Augustus ran to the daughter’s door and shoved it. It thumped against the wall and, again, the men quickened their pace. “Shrimp!” Gus hissed.
The smaller man clambered for the last door, leading out onto the balcony, but Nico grabbed him up. “Don’t embarrass the master!”
“I can’t. I can’t,” Shrimp shook his head as he spoke, clinging to Nico.
“Come on.” Nico carried Shrimp down the hall looking left to right, up and down, searching for the spirit that harried them. He opened the son’s room. “We’ll hang out in here.”
The big man shut the door behind them.
Augustus slid through the exit and crouched atop the balcony, overlooking the glamorous party as it flowed into a wide-open chamber. More than one guest audibly gasped when they saw red banners hanging from the walls, drapery covering the windows, and the room’s chandeliers hanging low. Only half the candles burned, casting ominous shadows upon the corners and high ceiling—more candles burned on little brass tables stationed around the room. Skiggi and Dori danced in the center, spinning flaming batons, whose fire gleamed upon every metal surface in the room. Rose ushered them into an ethereal realm: “Master Giovani, you have ties to a dark world, so your abode should reflect that aura of danger.” The darkened manor felt eerie, yet intimate. Gus hid atop the balcony, a shadowed alcove from which he watched Skiggi and Dori douse their batons, dimming the room even further. Giovani Bianchi walked to the center alongside his wife, Lucia. Rose’s voice floated up to the balcony:
“A world at war,
A love so strong.”
A violin struck a chord, encouraging an ensemble of musicians to join.
“Dance with me,
And let’s pretend,
Nothing is wrong.”
Giovani offered his wife a hand, and she took it. They circled slowly. The dinner guests followed their host’s lead, swaying and dancing across the room, spurned faster and faster by the accelerating music. Soon, Rose’s lyrics were drowned by the clopping of feet and the volume of the instruments. Gus snuck down the stairwell and returned to the entrance, where Rose waited. He threw off his cloak, twisting it into a bundle of invisible cloth and stuffing it in the crook of his arm. “Any luck?” she whispered.
“I found a few gemstones,” Gus replied.
Rose leaned in a little closer. “How much?”
“I didn’t take them,” Gus said.
“What?” Rose folded her right arm beneath his, constricting like a snake wrapping around a limb. “Why?”
“Giovanni is on to us,” Gus said as they moved along the wall toward the ensemble of seated musicians. “He stationed two guards in his bedroom and they knew we were coming. Leaving would look suspicious, so we need to let this play out. Let the others know.”
“Sure,” Rose said. “See you on the other side.”
They parted ways. We failed. Gus found his stool at the end of the center row. He sat, then stuffed his bundled cloak beneath the stool, and reached into the folds of his borrowed suit, pulling out his flute. Gus joined the ensemble’s song. His seat offered an excellent view of the stairwell. When Giovani’s son ascended, hand-in-hand with a young woman, he watched with trepidation, pondering: What will the young master think when he finds his father’s guards cowering in his bedroom? Augustus monitored the high balcony and the stairwell across the chamber, expecting that, at any moment, the young master would rush downstairs and tell Giovani about the idiots hiding in his bedchamber. The Master of the House will want to speak with his guards to investigate, and then he’ll find the loosened brick in his hearth, discovering that someone broke into his cache!
The ensemble music soared and plummeted. They sped up and slowed down. His mind distracted, Gus played softly to hide his mistakes.
The young master did not appear. Did he believe their ghost story? Are these haunts truly a regular occurrence? Given experience, Gus had little reason to doubt the existence of such creatures. He played until his lips hurt, then played some more. Rubbing shoulders with a piccolo, the room grew hotter by the moment. By the time they reached intermission, sweat drenched his suit. The dancers formed intermingling flocks, laughing, gossiping, and celebrating their splendid lives. Master Giovani and his wife spoke with Countess Ciraulo. Their flock was the largest. Giovani turned his gaze toward the musicians, locked eyes with Augustus, smiled, and then turned his attention back to the Countess. Gus eyed the balcony, but no one emerged.
“Good luck,” Rose said.
Gus spun around. “And to you,” he said. “I would avoid Mrs. Bianchi. She’s been casting mean looks your way all night.” And it was true.
“She’s just mad that my party is better than hers.” Rose perked up. “I think I’ll find a wealthy man to flirt with. Hm…” She looked around the room. “He will do.” Rose stared at a young man whose sharp suit was too big and whose messy hair seemed to fall toward the left side of his head. He fumbled with a wine bottle, nearly spilling it.
“Stay out of trouble,” Gus said. “He may have a fiance.”
“I suppose we’ll find out.” Rose walked across the room. She made her approach. The young aristocrat’s crooked smile made the poor dolt appear even more hopeless. Gus didn’t have the stomach to watch Rose toy with the boy. Instead, he found Skiggi and Dori standing in the room's corner with a group of musicians.
“Hey, Gus!” Skiggi waved him over with his left hand, for he held a mug of frothy ale in his right.
“How are the drinks?” Gus asked.
“This is expensive stuff,” Skiggi said. “Strong.” He thumped his thick chest with his left fist, then took a swig. “Good stuff.” The other musicians did not look impressed. Skiggi, with his mane of beaded hair and beard, stood out like a sore thumb on a well-manicured hand.
“Giovani has excellent taste,” Gus said. “His party has certainly been a success.” He watched the aristocrats mingling. They enjoyed the exotic decorum and ambiance, admiring Rose’s work. He searched across the room and found her next to the young aristocrat, leaning against the table that separated them. Rose is more capable than she realizes. She could build a new life. A good life.
Servants lit each candle in every chandelier. They raised the lights to the ceiling, brightening the room. The ensemble returned to their seats. Rose left her young flirt in a stammering mess. Gus picked up his flute. After sitting, he swiped his hand under the stool and felt the invisible bundle of cloth still hiding beneath. The dancers returned to the floor. A violin moaned, signaling the start of the next song. Gus and the ensemble joined its melody. He maintained his vigilance on the well-lit balcony. No one showed. As the last notes of a slow, solemn tune dissipated and the chatter of exhausted aristocrats exploded, the party ended. Giovani’s prestigious guests filed out the door and into the courtyard. Servants moved through the room, collecting mugs and wine glasses. Meanwhile, the ensemble of musicians remained seated. Gus presumed they, like the Mysterium, awaited compensation for their performance. Giovani and his wife followed their guests out of the main entrance, offering farewells to the Countess and her entourage, who were the last to leave. After an eternity of growing anticipation, Giovani returned to the main hall with a big smile on his face. He clapped his hands. “Great work everyone! Splendid!”
The musicians clapped. “You were truly superb,” the piccolo player whispered to a horn. Skiggi and Dori clapped, too. The little dwarven lady wrapped her arms around her husband and kissed his cheek.
“You!” Giovani pointed a finger at Rose. “You’re a genius! A muse!” Mrs. Bianchi scowled. The compliment seemed to hurt her much more than it flattered Rose. “Everyone kept asking about the pyros and the lighting. The Countess is asking my wife to help her plan a party in the future! Where did you come from?” He laughed, then turned his attention to Gus. “You were right, my friend. Fortune brought you to my door. The money I promised isn’t adequate for the service you performed for me tonight. If there’s anything I can do to repay this debt, then name it. I will make it yours.”
Gus looked at Rose, who looked at Skiggi and Dori. “Actually,” Rose said. “My friend owes someone a sum of money.”
No! Gus wanted to scream. I’m not about to trade favors with Giovani Bianchi!
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“How much money?” Giovani asked.
“Seventy-five silvers,” Rose said. “You see, he has a—”
“That’s unnecessary,” Augustus interrupted. “We did the job you paid us to do. We’ll take the agreed-upon rates and be on our way.”
“This isn’t some kind of trick. Your troupe exceeded my expectations and now everyone in the city wants to do business with the Bianchi.” Giovani raised his right hand, tilting it slightly. “Seventy-five silver circlings is a small sum. If this is your only request, then give me the name of the man and I will make sure your friend’s debt is settled.”
Dori beamed. “His name is Garau!”
“That old crab?” Giovani laughed. “Consider yourself even and your debts cleared. I’ll send an envoy to repay Garau in the morning.”
“Yay! You’re clear!” Dori clasped her hands around Skiggi’s neck.
“Thank you,” Rose said.
Skiggi repeated her sentiment.
Giovani rubbed his hands together. “If you gather by the main entrance, my servants will pay you what is owed. Thank you again for your magnificent performance. Goodnight.” He bowed his head, then led his wife up the stairs and across the balcony. They disappeared into the wing where two frightened guardsmen hid, and their son entertained a mysterious guest.
The musicians flocked around the main entrance while servants dashed around the room, taking down banners and drapery they’d hung that very evening, transforming the main hall back into a white room painted with thin green trees and red curtains covering bronze window frames. Beneath the balcony, Gus leaned against a wall. Giovani’s probably questioning his guards right now. And all hell will break loose when he finds that someone snooped around in his room. Gus’ pulse quickened as his mind sprinted. I can get out of here easily enough with my cloak, but the others will have to fight their way out.
Augustus tucked his right hand behind his back and felt a bone-handled dagger protruding from the tail of his vest. It was a minor comfort. Gus loosened the collar of his undershirt. He noticed a couple of tattoo-covered guardsmen sweeping the main hall, monitoring the lingering musicians and the working servants. Any minute now.
A door opened. Boots thumped overhead. Gus’s heart leaped into his throat. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Here we go.
Nico and Shrimp crossed the main chamber and entered the dining hall. They didn’t even glance over their shoulder. Gus exhaled a long wind. Were they too embarrassed to tell their boss about the ghost?
Gus waited until his feet hurt from standing as much as his bottom hurt from sitting. Servants became fewer until none remained except the two guardsmen. The dining hall door swung open. A shaggy-haired guard led Nico and Shrimp, who cradled two armloads of satchels. The Mysterium, standing closest to the dining hall, received their payment first. “There you go,” Shrimp said as he handed a jingling satchel to Skiggi. “And for you.” He handed one to Dori. “Hey, you guys make pretty good money. Maybe I should pick up the lute?”
“It’s not as easy as it looks,” Skiggi boasted.
“You calling me stupid?” Shrimp pursed his lips like a toad.
“Leave it be,” the shaggy guard said. “The boss likes these gypsies.”
Rose and Gus took their satchels from Nico, who glowered down at them with a glint of perpetual rage. They took their money, pushed through the flock, and were first out of the manor. Crossing the courtyard, Gus expected a crossbow bolt to the back, or a club to the head, but no one so much as spoke to them. The gates stood wide open. A bald man with tattoos covering his arms stood guard, a black jacket thrown over his shoulder and a pipe clenched between his teeth.
The guardsman waved as the Mysterium passed.
They walked through the streets of the city, carrying that eerie silence back to their apartment. As the Mysterium slept, Gus sat next to the room’s window, looking out.
This doesn’t feel right.
Sunlight washed Gus’ face in warmth, waking him. He rose from his chair and stretched. Rose, Skiggi, and Dori still slept. His stomach rumbled.
I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. Gus left the room, passed down a long hall, and descended a flight of steps. He found a pot of boiling stew in a common area and ate his fill before returning to the room, where he found everyone stirring. Did we make it out unscathed?
Rose yawned, lifting her hands over her head. “Oh! You came back.”
“I forgot your coin purse,” Gus said.
“Ha—ha,” Rose responded.
Augustus sat down on an empty bed. He opened his satchel of circlings and counted them for the fourth time. “We should have enough money to buy our way onto a southbound ship.”
“I’m excited!” Dori, lying next to her husband, smiled. “Let’s go right now!” She giggled.
“Do you have a captain in mind, Gus?” Rose asked. “I don’t know the first thing about sailing. The furthest I’ve been is the Igni Isles. Have you ever entered the Farwaters?”
“Yes, to your last question,” Gus said. “But, no, I don’t know any Oscani or Perlisian captains.”
“We’ll start at the docks.” Rose reached under her bed and pulled out a leather backpack. She flung it onto the mattress, opened it, and retrieved a large-toothed comb. “I hope the seas are calm in the winter. This is going to be the biggest journey of our lives!” She tugged at a knot in her red mane. “I have to admit: I’m pretty excited, too!”
Gus scooted up the bed until his back rested against its tall wooden headrest. He curled his knees to his chest. “You should be. It’s a chance at a new start, and you all deserve it. You’re the most talented group of performers I’ve ever met. You don’t have to be what the world wants you to be. Be who you want to be. Take the Mysterium across the world or settle down in a coastal village and watch the sunset over the ocean each night. Buy a ship of your own and sail to the end of the world.”
Rose stopped brushing her hair. “That’s very sentimental, Gus. Why do I have the feeling that you want to say something else?” She crossed her arms. “Well?”
“I won’t be joining you,” Gus said. “I have to do something.”
Skiggi and Dori crawled to the edge of their bed and dangled their feet inches above the floor. “You’ve saved our skins plenty of times, Gus. What’s eating at you?” Skiggi asked. “Maybe we can help? If not, I swiped an ale strong enough to make you forget about anything—that’ll make you feel better!” He laughed. Dori did not. “Sorry.”
“I don’t want you to get further involved,” Augustus said. “The Holy Order is out to get us, but they want me. I have something important to them. What I intend to do will not make them stop searching for me. If anything, it will only antagonize them further and make things worse. Put your money together and sail to the Southern Continent. Get out before it gets worse for you, too. So far, you all are just bystanders. If you follow my path, you will become agents acting against the Holy Order. They do not take kindly to threats—no matter how small.” He eyed the dwarves. “This means goodbye.”
Dori teared up. “Again?”
Skiggi stood and walked across the room. “You’re a true friend, Gus. Thanks for always looking out for us.” He held out a thick hand. Coarse black fuzz covered the backs of his palms. Augustus accepted the handshake. “Good man.”
“You’re forgetting one little thing,” Rose said. “I’m not letting you out of my sight!” She threw the comb at Gus, who ducked his head. The comb shattered against the wall. “You ass!”
A knock resounded at the door.
Everyone turned to look at the wooden rectangle in its wide frame. Another knock: thump, thump, thump.
“Did you request a wake-up call?” Rose turned toward Gus.
He shook his head.
Another round of knocks. “Is everything okay in there? You sound like you’re having a little too much fun!” Gus recognized the voice. It belonged to the man they called Shrimp. “Hellooooo? Are you going to open the door or do I need to have my big friend kick it in?” He knocked again.
I knew they’d come! Augustus drew his dagger.
“No!” Rose said.
Another round of knocks. “Open the door!”
Gus put his dagger away. He crossed the room and opened the door. “Yes?”
Nico barged in, shoving Gus aside, followed closely by Shrimp. “You.” The small man pointed at Rose. “Our boss is inviting you to join him for lunch this afternoon.”
“Me?” Rose asked. “Why?”
Shrimp chuckled. “Really?” He looked at his big friend, then back at Rose. “Because he likes you! If we put two and two together, I’d say he wants to offer you a position within his household. And a very comfortable position at that. He requires an answer, though. Master Bianchi is a busy man. Should I tell him to expect you at noon?”
Rose looked at Gus, then back at Shrimp. “Sure.”
“Rose,” Gus said.
Shrimp laughed. “Sorry, pal. Some women have high expectations. And you don’t measure up to my master.” He walked towards the door. “I’ll send Giovani your regards!” Nico matched scowls with Skiggi before turning and following his smaller counterpart. Just like that, the thugs were gone, and a familiar silence lingered in the air.
Gus returned to his bed.
“Working for Giovani Bianchi?” Skiggi tugged at a bead in his beard. “That’s not freedom, Rose.”
“It’s something,” Rose said. “It’s protection, for one thing.”
“It’s a waste of your life!” Gus shouted.
“Why do you care?” Rose’s face glowed red, blue eyes and thick veins bulged. “You don’t want me to go to Giovani, but you don’t want me to go with you? Am I in charge of my life or not? Make up your mind!” She pulled back her hair and tied it with a ribbon. “Not everyone has magic trinkets to help them escape their problems. That stupid heist was your plan, Gus. You experienced a small taste of what a normal thief must overcome, and you only survived because of your trinkets! Normal people have to rely on their wits.”
“The world didn’t make me a bad person,” Gus said. “Even as a child, there were opportunities to run away, but I didn’t take them.”
“Because you wanted to survive,” Rose said. “You were smart.”
“No.” Gus shook his head. “Because I was a coward. I didn’t leave the Order because I was terrified of facing the world alone. It was the only life I ever knew, and I had friends—a family–even if they were horrible.”
“You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to be alone,” Rose said as she walked to Skiggi and Dori, then draped her hands over their shoulders. “The world is dangerous.”
Does she want protection? I can barely protect myself! Gus ground his teeth. “Fine! If you want to follow me to your graves, then be my guests. What becomes of you from here on out is no longer on my conscience. You make your own choices, after all.”
“Really?” Rose asked.
“What about our say in the matter?” Skiggi stomped his right foot, drawing everyone’s attention. “We want to go with Gus.”
“Yay!” Dori cried.
Rose ran to their window, pushed open the shutters, and stuck her head out. “Excuse me!” she shouted into the street. “Hey, you, with the tattoos! I changed my mind! I. Changed. My. Mind!” Rose pulled the window shut. There was a moment of silence that swelled with buzzing energy, but not like the eerie energy on their walk home from Bianchi Manor. This swelling reminded Gus of that feeling before an excellent performance. It felt right. “I suppose that matter is settled.” Rose carried herself across the room with an air of pompous arrogance. “But we still need a ship.”
Augustus stretched out on his bed. We can put our money together, but can I convince Deacon to take them on as cargo? Will Giovani allow us to leave his city? Gus stared at the ceiling. What will become of us?