FLORETTE VII: THE DISTRACTION
Edith Costeau laughed, leaning back against the wall. “Why, that’s one of the most foolish ideas I’ve ever heard. What possible motivation have I to finance your thievery?”
Jealousy, Florette thought. But saying it aloud would only make things worse. Finding an excuse to speak with her had been difficult enough, tracking her from the Singer’s Lounge to a fête at one of the mansions in the Merchant Quartier and slipping in with the crowd of guests leaving. It wouldn’t do to push their luck here. “You’re entitled to the spotlight, aren’t you? The greatest singer of the generation, with fingers far defter than any alive. Who would want their unparalleled skill with the harp reduced to backing up a machinist?”
Eloise raised an eyebrow, nodding slightly.
Costeau frowned. “Do you think so little of me, my dear? Stealing from a colleague out of simple jealousy? That’s nothing more than a mark of insecurity. I have every confidence in my ability to outshine Magnifico, even setting aside that he’s likely to leave soon after the tournament. Certainly I have better things to do with my money than removing such competition.”
Time to try something else. “Why remove it, when you could suborn it? Perhaps smashing it to pieces isn’t worth our price, but it would be yours to use as you please. An accompaniment, an otherworldly sound to your impeccable compositions, with practically none in the world even having a chance at challenging you. The best of both worlds, exclusively at your fingertips.”
“No need to break it out right away either,” Eloise added, folding her arms. “Wait until your star is fading, an inevitability, then break out the mystery instrument that nearly none outside of Avalon have any conception of. That will alleviate any concerns of theft as well.”
“There are many excellent singers, skilled harpists. But truly no one will be able to compare to you, not when you have something wholly unique backing you. Only ten in the world, nine of them locked up tightly in Avalon. You’d be the voice of a generation.”
Narrowing her eyes, Costeau stepped closer. “You think I’m some tittering ingenue, easily manipulated by prodding at insecurities? I told you: I have no interest in this, my dear. I already have unique talent. Why should I abandon my specialty for this absurd boondoggle?”
“Because you have nothing.” Eloise rolled her eyes. “One day, you’ll wake up and realize that no one has cared about you in years. Some hot new thing has captured the public’s imagination, while your remaining fans age inexorably into death, unable to convince their children and grandchildren why they ever cared for you at all. You’ll be limited to playing your most popular songs to a cadre of pathetic admirers who don’t respect you as an artist; they simply feel nostalgic for their youth.
“It might be in ten years, or two. Perhaps it’s happening already; look at the gaggle around the foreign bard with his mystical instrument. Yet no one stopped to talk to you. No one other than us.”
Costeau was staring mutely, eyebrows furrowed. That was brutal.
Eloise tilted the corner of her mouth up ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. “That moment will come. It’s inevitable. But your irrelevance is not. Imagine instead that you’re the sole and best player of the pulsebox on the entire continent. Irreplaceable. An entire genre, no, an entire medium inexorably tied to you. Your name, your music, your talent. It would be forever above reproach.”
The musician blinked. “You are a horrid little woman, and think no better of me than your friend. My vanity is far from what you imply; I’ve no need to remain the most recognized forever, my dear. Certainly not with a device only I’d have access to. If anything, maintaining such an advantage is unsporting, unjust. Why should I alone have such dominion, let alone pay you for it?”
“Let’s go,” Eloise spat out, her eyebrows pulled down into a surprisingly emotive frown. “This was a waste of time.”
Why should she alone have such dominion? Hmm. “You’re right, Madame Costeau. Why should any one person serve as the gatekeeper to the pulsebox, and all the strange and wonderful sounds it makes?” Florette raised up a single finger. “Why should it travel back to Avalon to entertain some royal few? The music wants to be heard. It wants to be free.”
Costeau tilted her head, her eyebrows straightening out.
“If Magnifico leaves with it, it’s gone forever. At that point, for all of us on this continent, it might as well have been thrown in the ocean. But if it were to go missing? I have to imagine the underlying mechanisms might appear in other devices, after a while. Nothing attributable to any one person, but simply an emergence of a fascinating new sound. One belonging to everyone, rather than a single arrogant bard and his tyrant king. I’m sure there are mechanists here—”
“Scientists,” Eloise corrected.
Florette blinked. “Scientists, who could use the device to discover the underlying principles and construct others, but they would benefit greatly from the help of someone experienced in music and sound. Probably enough to make it worth your while overall, or close enough that the public good would be more than worth the remaining price.”
Edith Costeau’s mouth twisted. “And what price would that be?”
Eloise flicked her eyes over, a glimmer in them as she smiled. We’ve got her. “Sixty thousand florins, upon successful delivery. A discounted rate, given your generosity to the people, and with no risk to you.” Huh. It actually was, at fifteen thousand lower than they had discussed. That didn’t seem much like her, but perhaps there was some angle Florette was missing. So often, the quartermaster’s mind was an enigma, her soul hidden behind the opaque doorway of grey eyes and a hard smirk.
“Very well.” Costeau tapped her thumbs together. “I suppose you have a deal, my dears. Good luck.”
Florette was shaking by the time they made it out to the street, bouncing on her feet as she fell into step beside her partner. “That was nice of you to drop the price. She seemed like she probably would have given us the seventy-five.”
Eloise scoffed. “Nice has nothing to do with it. I’m simply helping to incentivize an expansion of an underdeveloped market for us. Obviously, this will be some of the hardest-won money we’ve ever come across, Avalon tech without Avalon security to deal with. Shaving a bit off of the price will ruin us, no matter what long term benefits it provides.”
“What benefit, exactly?” Florette raised her eyebrows. “And how does going to the market factor into it?”
“Yes, of course the market is literal. Our vendor is an actual fence, too.” She rolled her eyes. “We need people buying the shit we steal. That’s our market, that group. The larger it is, the more money we make.”
“Isn’t it just the nobles? You steal plans for a cannon or something and then they buy it to make their own? Seems plenty big to me.”
She sighed. “For a cannon, sure. Or an airship. Did it ever occur to you that there might be non-military technologies that are harder to sell that way? Well, probably not. You wouldn’t have heard of this pulsebox heist I’m pulling. It’s very secret.”
“Stop being a prick for a second.” Florette waved her off. “I want to know. So Edith Costeau, and maybe people like her, they’re a market for more civilian technologies, and you want it to grow, and that’s why you dropped the price?”
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“No, it’s because I secretly have a heart of gold.”
“Right, I think I follow you, then.”
“You know, you sounded a lot like the Captain, back there. ‘Free the ideas, free the technology, liberate it from its owners and grant it back to the world.’ With the right goods, it’s the kind of thinking that keeps us in business, but I think he believes it too.” Eloise glanced over to her. “You didn’t say all that because you meant it, did you?”
What would be so bad about that? “Just trying to get her to buy, whatever it took. The direction we were going before wasn’t working.”
“I don’t know… Maybe we should have tried insulting her more. I’ve gotten very good results with it.”
“And yet you keep acting that way.” Florette rolled her eyes.
Eloise shrugged. “There’s a reason I’m not usually part of the negotiations. But we’re partners on this little side job, and I figured I ought to see it through.”
“Good.” Florette smiled. “So what happens next, exactly?”
“I’ll go to the next general meeting tonight and tell everyone what a fuck-up you were, how you completely ruined our chance at finding a buyer. Then the Captain will call for a vote to approve the job, which will fail since it’s such easy money for practically no risk, and we’re all a bunch of idiots. I’ll grab a few knuckleheads to help me with my end, and we’ll break into the Singer’s Lounge tomorrow morning to steal it while you distract Magnifico.”
“Tomorrow?” Didn’t they have more time?
“Yeah. Miss Priss and Lord Fuckwad are dueling, and it’ll keep attention away from the prize. Unless you can think of a better moment when Magnifico’s away without the pulsebox?”
“No.” She shook her head. “But then why do I need to be with him? He’ll be distracted by the duel already. Can’t I come steal it with you?”
“Ha!” Eloise chuckled. “It’s an easy job, but not so easy we’d risk mucking it all up with an amateur in the mix. You’re more valuable with him, our last line of defense. Keep him away if he comes back early, make sure he stays away from Costeau’s, stuff like that. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve been missing someone like that on a job and the mark surprised us, being somewhere they weren’t supposed to be.”
“I can do better than that!”
“Yeah, I’m sure. But this is where you’re the most useful. Don’t worry, you’ll still get your higher cut.”
“But—”
Eloise sighed. “None of us are going to see the look on his face when he realizes it’s been taken. But you might. And it gives you a bit of an alibi too, although I don’t know how well it’ll hold up to scrutiny. I’d be ready to run at a moment’s notice. Still, might maintain the relationship for another job down the road, while if you come with us, you’ll be the first person he suspects.”
Florette clenched her fists. “Fine.”
It did make sense; that was the worst thing. It still didn’t stop it from feeling wrong. Especially when it called into question why exactly Eloise had recruited her at all.
“Be up bright and early tomorrow. The duel is at dawn. I’ll come tell if the job is off, but otherwise we’re doing it.”
Dawn was almost half a day earlier than Florette tended to wake up, so she told the innkeep to wake her on the hour, but it didn’t turn out to be necessary. It was still dark when she woke, and hours of trying weren’t enough to get her back to sleep.
When the faint light of morning started to streak across the sky, Florette gave up, making her way to the arena platform where the duel was to be held. Eloise hadn’t appeared, which meant that she and some of the pirates were probably breaking into the Lounge now. Without her.
Even this early, it was strange to see the pier so empty. Some people with swords or pikes stood guard in front of ships, but the loading and unloading of goods was a shadow of what it usually was at this hour. Villemalin seemed to have a chill over it too, with a notable absence of the usual breakfast cookfires and gatherings of old men drinking. The whole thing was unsettling in a way that was hard to identify.
Why was that? This was still more people than were ever around back in the mountains, and that never felt so strange.
The isolation there was awful too, though. Maybe it is the same.
When she crossed the gate out of the city, it was obvious where everyone had gone. Pillars of smoke stretched into the sky from makeshift bonfires on the beach, while hordes of people gathered around them to roast and cheer.
The festival hadn’t officially started, she didn’t think, but the accommodations were in place, as were many of the visitors. And of course, the spectacle was starting early.
The crowd only grew thicker as she got closer to the wooden platform rising above the sea, as did the noise. The arena had wooden stands built up facing it, but those had long overflowed onto the beach beside them.
How was I the last one here? Coming early would have been a better use of her time than lying awake in bed, if nothing else.
Between the muddled roar of the crowd and the whistling wind, it was difficult to make any real sounds out, but it sounded almost as if someone had called—
“Florette!” That was definitely her name.
She turned to try to identify the source, facing the stands only to see a gold-clad Fernan waving his arm at her, the flames from his eyes streaking with the wind. It took a bit of maneuvering to reach him, climbing around the side to bypass the aisles blocked with people sitting on the steps, but she managed it without too much difficulty.
Magnifico was with him, too, which made things that much easier.
“Hello!” she called out, squeezing a glaring man out of the way so she could set next to them. “It hasn’t started yet, right?”
“No, but you missed a lot.” Fernan’s eyes flickered. “People have been celebrating out here all night.”
“They wanted their places ready. And with the warmer temperatures, why not spend a night under the stars?” Magnifico looked down at the crowded beach. “I imagine people will do much the same when the festival proper begins. It’s sure to be quite the spectacle.”
Edith Costeau wasn’t up here, Florette was pleased to note. She was probably ready to receive the pulsebox and deliver the payment, right now.
“Apparently King Lucien gathered his people here, and Lord Lumière took it as a challenge,” Fernan said. “He told us we were to be on guard, ready for anything to break out. That the Malins could be incensed when their sage loses the duel.”
“You don’t really think she will though, do you?” Florette pointed down. “I can’t help but notice that they’re fighting surrounded by water.”
Fernan shrugged while Magnifico chuckled slightly. “I’ve seen the extent of Aurelian’s preparations. It would be quite a shock if he didn’t prevail, but I suppose it’s possible.”
“How does it work, exactly?” Florette looked out at the platform, where the two sages were now climbing the ladder up from the sea.
“In a tournament, they’d simply be trying to knock each other off, by whatever means necessary.” The bard shrugged. “Now though? It’s little more than a spirited backdrop to a fight to the death. Though the first to fall will surely be the first to die, showing weakness like that. Neither of them will want to leave the platform, not when it signals failure in such an obvious way to the crowd. This has to be a decisive victory, for either of them. The whole point is demonstrating power in a manner beyond reproach.”
Beat them, and leave no doubt. “That makes sense.”
“No it doesn’t.” Fernan shot her a glare. “This whole thing is about people’s lives. They’re gambling with them like it’s a few florins. Lumière bet fifty lives towards his victory, people who will be burned alive if he wins.”
“With opium wine in their blood. It’s more humane than many executions I’ve seen.” Magnifico sighed. “As long as people serve spirits, this sort of thing is inevitable. A pile of bodies on the path to power has never been enough to stop anyone. You have to tackle the root cause.”
“And yet you call Lumière friend. I find that interesting.” Nothing hostile, not calling out his hypocrisy too directly, but it would keep him talking, if only to supply his excuse.
The bard shrugged. “What can I say? He charmed me.”
“I take it you’re rooting for him, then.” At that, Fernan shot her another look, his fiery eyes no longer scary, though still accusing, but he kept his mouth shut.
“I am. If you’re hoping for a bet though, I must admit that I’ve already arranged all of my gambling for the day.”
“We’ll keep it friendly then. I like the aqua-bitch’s chances.”
The man next to Florette placed a hand on her shoulder, grasping tightly. A snarl filled his face, his ears as red as the long hair cascading down his shoulders. “Call her that again, and I’ll make you answer for it.”
Florette rolled her eyes. “Right. Scary.”
Fernan buried his head in his hands.
“Ah, you haven’t met?” Magnifico asked. “Florette, please allow me to introduce King Lucien Renart, Fox-King of the Empire and betrothed of Lady Leclaire.”
Shit.
“Hello, your Majesty.” Florette drew the sentence out, rubbing the back of her neck. “I was just telling Magnifico that I fancy your fiancé. To win the duel, I mean! I like her chances, and simply wanted to express that as best I—It’s really such a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
The King narrowed his eyes, removing the hand from her shoulder. “See that you treat her with respect.”
Just wait until you hear how we met. “Of course, your Majesty.”
He clicked his tongue, turning back to the woman he had been talking to before.
Florette gulped as she faced Magnifico and Fernan, the bard stifling laughter as Fernan’s eyes blazed out, trailing even further into the wind.
“How long did you intend to stay in the city again, Florette?”
“I’m thinking I’ll leave tomorrow. Or today.”
Magnifico chuckled. “That’s probably wise. But do stay for the duel. It should prove quite fascinating to watch. And you, especially, won’t want to miss what follows.”