After luncheon the next day, we set off for the yacht launch in a stony silence. Tony hadn’t spoken to me since returning to the Manor, and I wondered how long he meant to continue.

I wasn’t looking forward to this event. Tony never told me why he feared going, which worried me no end. And since this was the first time I’d been to any event by the Clubbs since last I saw Nina ... I had no idea what to expect.

Armed outriders came with us, but more this time, as we traveled north, crossing the “betters’ bridge” to Clubb quadrant.

Sandstone cobbles paved Clubb quadrant streets in front of golden-brown buildings trimmed in oak and brass. When we reached the main street out to the countryside, we turned left, towards quadrant center.

Outsiders, strangely dressed, even women wearing trousers! Some had oddly cut hair in unnatural colors. Exotic dogs, brass follow-carts piled with parcels, or silver-toned mechanical men accompanied them, clanking and hissing as they went.

Our carriage turned right, towards the marina. The streets teemed with delivery trucks and golden-haired pedestrians. Clubb Family carriages in brass-trimmed oak pulled by gold champagne horses wearing brown and golden tack choked the streets. We turned right, then left — after our outriders stopped traffic — into an enormous entryway. Golden roses filled the central area as our carriage rounded it.

To our right stood the boathouse, a large edifice of sandstone and oak. A golden carpet led up to an oak-stained stair with brass banisters, then a large set of glass-paneled oak doors. Men in golden-brown Clubb livery opened the doors as we approached.

Inside, panels explaining the history of Bridges’ waterways lined the walls. Mock-ups of champion boats stood behind glass. A large historical craft hung from the high oak rafters.

Alexander and Regina Clubb came across the wide hall to greet us. Both golden-haired and (at minimum) in their seventies, they appeared — and moved — as a couple twenty years younger.

Mrs. Clubb grabbed me by the arms, towering over me. “I’ll not have my Nina become a woman-lover, especially with a Pot rag.”

The memory stopped me; Tony moved past me to greet them.

“Welcome,” Mr. Clubb said, and shook Tony’s hand.

Tony wore his public face. “A pleasure to see you.”

Mr. Clubb took my hand in his and kissed it, the metal of his mechanical left hand buffeted by the gloves we wore.

I stared at it in amazement: I would never be able to tell it was anything but real by its movements.

Mr. Clubb smiled. “So happy to see you again.”

The man was handsome, even if he was terribly old. How did he manage to look so well? “And I you.”

Tony kissed Mrs. Clubb’s hand, then she took mine.

For a moment, I felt disoriented: we were the same height now. She seemed so terrifying before.

But today, she smiled. “I’m so glad you could attend.” She retraced her steps, still holding my hand. “I can’t wait for you to see our new yacht.”

I fought the urge to snatch my hand back. Why was I remembering these things, having these feelings, now? “The Ace of Clubbs. What does this signify?”

Mrs. Clubb glanced away with an ironic, amused laugh. “Our beloved son, of course.”

His name, Lancelot, derived from the Holy Cards, a Jack variation. Shouldn’t he be the Jack of Clubbs? And if they intended to give Lance this honor — the highest and lowest of them all — why not name him Ace? As old as Alexander and Regina Clubb were, did they expect more children? But ... he was the youngest. And their heir. “You must love him very much.”

She smiled, color rising in her cheeks. “We do.”

Attendants in Clubb livery opened the doors onto a wide dock of polished oak where a party lay spread: food, drink, musicians, and well-dressed people from all four quadrants.

To my relief, Regina Clubb let go of my hand. “Enjoy,” she said, disappearing into the crowd.

My eye immediately went to Jonathan Diamond. He said a word to his companions, raised his water glass, and came to us.

Tony said, “I didn’t know you got an invite to this shindig.”

Jon laughed. “We’re all here, it seems.” He pointed to a very pale Helen Hart, who sat under an awning with her Inventor husband Etienne, a dumpy auburn-haired man in his fifties wearing his odd spectacles. As usual, he had his nose in a book. Helen, dressed in black, sipped her tea in silence.

Surely Jon’s twin Jack didn’t attend. Heart pounding, I took Tony’s arm and said to Jon, “Who else is here?”

Jon glanced over my shoulder. “Turn round and you’ll see.”

So we did. “Gardena!” Relieved, I hugged Jon’s younger sister. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Gardena Diamond’s raven curls were up-swept under a black hat with navy blue feathers in it, matching her navy blue gown. Jon wore a cravat matching his sister’s dress, pinned with the symbol of his Family in white.

“Miss Diamond,” Tony said in a flat voice.

Gardena didn’t smile or meet Tony’s eye. “Mr. Spadros.”

Oh, dear. Whatever went on between them at Queen’s Day dinner ... had not been resolved in the slightest.

A stern voice said, “There you are.” Cesare Diamond, a man in his early thirties, gripped his sister’s arm. “Your presence is requested.” He ignored us as he yanked Gardena aside.

“That man infuriates me,” Tony said.

Jon laughed. “He generally has that effect.”

Tony twitched. Evidently, he had forgotten Jon stood so close by. “My apologies.” Tony let out a breath. “Your brother delights in displaying his disdain for my wife and I.” He glanced over. Cesare lectured his sister, who didn’t appear to be taking it well. “Not to mention everyone else.”

I took Jon’s arm. “When will the launching take place?”

“Oh, any time, I’d think, now that we’re all here,” Jon said.

Regina Clubb proceeded out, followed by eight of her daughters. They wore the same navy blue dresses as their mother, had the same golden hair, thin faces, and haughty demeanor. Mrs. Clubb spoke on a megaphone. “Welcome to the launch of our newest craft, the Ace of Clubbs!”

Applause followed. Jon flushed, appearing embarrassed; Tony’s jaw clenched.

“Our daughter, Apprentice of the Dealers Kitty Clubb, is here to offer the blessing.”

Surprised murmurs rose as Kitty Clubb strode forward, dressed in a pale green robe with a white scarf of the same material which completely covered her hair. Everyone rose — Helen Hart, with help — and bowed or curtsied.

“So she did join the Dealers,” Jon said. “How remarkable.”

Kitty raised her hand. “We thank the Floorman for the bounty provided to create this vessel. May the Dealer richly bless those it carries, bringing them safely through the rounds to come.” She lowered her hand, and everyone murmured, “So be it.”

“Thank you, Blessed Apprentice,” Regina Clubb said. “Launching the yacht is our son and heir, Master Lancelot Clubb.”

A man of three and twenty with thick straight golden hair, Lance Clubb hesitated, then stepped forward. He grasped the champagne bottle, tied to a boom which jutted a foot from the grand yacht’s deck, and launched it at the side of the craft.

The bottle struck full on, yet did not break.

Everyone laughed; Lance turned bright red.

“No matter,” Mrs. Clubb said. “Let’s try this again.”

Men scrambled to retrieve the bottle.

Arms held high, Lance flung the bottle towards the yacht as if it offended him and it broke, spraying champagne over the dock. We cheered, and he turned towards us with a sheepish grin.

“I could almost like the man,” Tony murmured.

“What?”

Tony seemed startled. “Nothing. My pardons.”

Why would Tony dislike Lance? Even though the man was a year our senior, he had something of a young child about him, as if he hadn’t yet matured. I found it endearing.

Mrs. Clubb said, “Please accompany us on the Ace of Clubbs for its maiden voyage.” We followed up the wide gangplank past photographers and reporters barred by a pair of golden ribbons.

The Ace of Clubbs, although vastly larger in size, reminded me of Morton’s craft the Finesse, now in pieces at the bottom of the river: white with an oak interior. The Ace of Clubbs had immense golden sails with the Clubb symbol embroidered in golden-brown. Brass railings and gold bunting adorned the sides.

Men untied golden lines. The yacht cast off, moving out of the marina. The day was cloudy yet calm. A perfect day for sailing.

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“I rather like boats,” I said.

Tony gazed at me with a curious expression, then nodded. “I’m not so fond of them, but the company is diverting.”

Did Tony just flirt? He rarely did so, usually when intoxicated. But he had nothing to drink today, so far as I’d seen.

Jon laughed from behind us. “Indeed.”

Tony’s face reddened. “You must come forth, sir, or begone.”

Jon moved in front of us and bowed. “My apologies.”

“You two are incorrigible,” I said. “We must have other conversation than upon my few virtues.”

“Never mock yourself,” Jon said. “You are the most glorious lady present.”

Music began from inside, to the aft.

“Would you like some drinks?” Jon said. He gave a quick glance over my shoulder: Gardena stood some six paces back.

“Nothing for me,” I said, “unless you wish to bring something when you return.”

Tony followed our glances. “I’ll accompany you.” The two disappeared below.

Gardena came to meet me, suddenly pensive. “I wanted to thank you for your kind welcome. I fear your husband wishes me gone.” She paused, her head downcast. “I don’t blame him: it was wrong to strike him, to say what I did that night. I regret it all.”

I took her white-gloved hands. “It would help, I think, if you told him these things. He has high regard for you, and your disagreements wound him.”

She turned to lean upon the rails. “I know. I wish things had occurred differently.” A glossy black curl fell beside her dark brown cheek. “I think we all feel that way at times.”

Well, I certainly did. I wasn’t sure how to make things right between these two, but a plan was forming in my mind as far as my situation. “There are always things which can be done, Dena. It just takes the strength and courage to act.”

“If I act, people are hurt. They may die. If I don’t act, people are hurt, but different ones. All people I care for. No matter what I do, I feel as if I am betraying someone.” She shook her head. “You of all people deserve better.”

I had no idea what she meant, but she seemed in such distress that I dared not ask. “Is there a way I can help?”

Gardena smiled a fake smile, then her eyes reddened. “Just be my friend, Jacqui, for as long as you can.”

The navy blue dress Gardena wore was the same one I borrowed the day we met to catch her blackmailer. “You and Lance dressed alike. Was that coincidence?”

Gardena smiled fondly. “His mother. She wishes the city to become accustomed to the idea of us together, before —”

I recalled Marja’s note: They plan to kill your Ma too.

“Jacqui,” Gardena said, “what is it?”

“A sudden fear came upon me.” I told her about Marja: who she was, what she meant to me. I told her about Marja’s note warning me of a plot to kill my mother. “That was how I knew I must get my mother out of the city.”

Gardena’s eyes filled with tears. “We sent her to her doom! Oh, Jacqui, I’m so sorry.” She pulled me into a tight embrace.

I’d added more sorrow to Gardena’s hand, yet I couldn’t reveal that my mother lived without also revealing her mother’s part in it. “You helped me when I had nowhere else to turn. For that I’m grateful.”

She nodded, wiping her eyes.

“Marja sent the message from a produce distribution center in Spadros quadrant owned by the Clubbs.”

Gardena peered at me with a slight frown.

“I believe she overheard someone there. It stands to reason that they — or someone who worked for them — killed her.”

Gardena’s face went from confusion to disbelief. “You think the Clubbs killed her? That they killed your mother? Why?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. My husband won’t let me out of his sight, or the sight of his men,” several of whom stood on deck watching me, “so it’s been difficult to learn more.” No one was in earshot. “Have you gained their confidence?”

“You want me to spy on the man who courts me?”

“I don’t want you to do anything you feel is wrong. But if the Clubbs plotted against them ...”

Gardena took my hands. “I understand. If someone hurt Mama ... I don’t know what I might do.” She stood motionless, then gasped. “Surely they — no. I can’t believe they would ruin their own building and kill hundreds of people just to target one woman.” She shook her head. “Why not shoot her? Even if your mother were in a rival Family, this is beyond monstrous.”

I hadn’t examined that aspect of it. “Someone must be using the Clubbs, then. I don’t have any other ideas.”

Gardena stood in thought, then her face changed, as if she had come to some decision. “I’ll see what I can learn. They don’t talk much around me, but Jon is Keeper of the Court. Perhaps they’ve spoken to him.”

And his twin, Jack, was allied with Frank Pagliacci. Fear gripped me. “You mustn’t breathe a word of this to Jack.”

Gardena seemed confused. “Why not?”

How much could I tell her? At the doorway to the cabin, Jon and Tony were emerging. “It’s all too complex and there’s no time. Please, trust me. Your life may be in danger if Jack learns you know of this.”

She frowned. “You and Jack have your differences, but —”

“Dena, Jack’s threatened to kill me and destroy my family.”

Gardena’s hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide. “Surely you don’t believe this? I won’t believe it.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jacqui, but you’re wrong.”

Tony and Jon threaded through the crowd towards us. I grabbed her arms. “Promise me, Dena.”

She glanced away. “Very well.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you. Jack might not harm you, but his companions are dangerous beyond measure.”

She peered at me. Then she nodded. “I promise.”

Jon handed a wine glass to Gardena. “We come bearing gifts.”

Tony offered me a glass of bourbon, neat, and I smiled at him. “My favorite.”

“So I recall.”

“Excuse me,” Gardena said, disappearing into the crowd.

Tony smiled at me. “Did you have a nice chat?”

My eyes met Jon’s. Why didn’t he do something about Jack? “Yes, it was lovely.”

“Excuse me.” Jon moved in Gardena’s direction.

Tony and I sipped our drinks as we sailed upstream towards the Rim, the yacht tacking back and forth as we went.

I recalled my speculation that Gardena’s blackmailer was allied with Frank Pagliacci. Indeed, the timing made me certain of it. “I believe Gardena’s in danger from the men who target us.”

Tony said nothing for several seconds. “A police official once came to me with an astonishing story.”

“Did you not hear me?”

“A woman named Zia Cashout claimed you knifed her in the streets of Market Center dressed as a scullery maid. But you were at Dame Anastasia’s house helping her pack. Were you at Dame Anastasia’s house?”

I gazed over the water. “Of course.” For about an hour, then I went many places that day. Including Market Center, dressed as a scullery maid. “Why would this woman make such a report?”

“I don’t know. She disappeared soon after.”

“So why did the police go to you?”

“They were concerned about your safety and reputation, and thought I should know.” The water reflected in Tony’s eyes made them as pale as Roy’s.

“That was kind of them.”

“Indeed.” Tony clearly questioned my story.

I wished I didn’t have to keep lying to him, but if I told him where I was, he would ask why. And on that day, I visited Thrace Pike and his grandfather, and then Mr. Jake Bower. I didn’t think Tony would be happy about either visit.

That I had anything to do with Thrace Pike — a man who made public statements against my character — would upset him. That I went to an investigator’s home (even though it was also his office) unescorted would alarm him no end.

I didn’t want Tony to learn of my visits to Mr. Pike until I found out what Mr. Bower’s financial documents contained.

“Tony, you must listen. That letter ... I — you don’t want to know what it contains. But they know too much —”

Alarm flashed through his eyes. What was he so afraid I might learn?

“— and I fear for our friends. They wish to destroy us, Tony. Not just kill, or make afraid. Destroy.”

Jon approached us. “May I speak to Mrs. Spadros?”

Tony blinked. “Why, of course.” He moved a few feet away, clearly curious as to what Jon might have to say.

Jon didn’t meet my eye. “Do you carry your weapon?”

“Of course.” Jon gave me the pistol years before.

He relaxed. “Good.” He paused, head down, hands on his hips. Then he straightened. “May I ask a question?”

I grinned. “You just did.”

He let out a short laugh. “Well. I suppose so!” Then he sobered. “This is a serious matter, Jacqui. Did you have your weapon on your person at the Grand Ball?”

It was ten minutes from my entrance time. I went into the toilet-room, Amelia helping me with my dress. When Amelia saw my calf holster, she drew back in alarm. “You’re not to have that here!”

I smiled, amused. “Don’t worry, Amelia; I won’t shoot anyone.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“When Jack advanced upon me, why didn’t you draw your weapon? Or move away? Why’d you come to my side instead?”

I gaped at him. “My only thought was for your safety.”

Jon spoke fiercely. “This will be your undoing, Jacqui! You must not forget your own safety! Certainly not over mine.”

His demeanor startled me. “What did Gardena say, Jon? Something’s upset you.”

Jon appeared surprised. “Gardena said nothing.” But then he put his hand to his forehead, shook his head. “I have no proof. It could’ve been said in jest. But I overheard something just now ...” he dropped his hand to his side, “and it made me fear for you. Promise me that if you find yourself in danger, you’ll care for yourself, rather than rush to the defense of me or anyone else.”

I touched his cheek. He was such a dear man. “I promise.” I dropped my hand to take his. “And you must promise to protect yourself and Gardena. You may both be in danger.”

Jon grinned. “We’re Diamonds. We’re always in some sort of danger.” He kissed my hand. “Be at peace. My sister’s well cared-for, never fear.”

* * *

Jon and Tony went off on some adventure, and I gazed over the water, considering Jon’s words. What would it be like to grow up in a Family, constantly in danger?

Mrs. Clubb approached with a brown-haired woman wearing forest green. “Inventor Cuarenta, may I present Mrs. Spadros.”

I curtsied low. “It’s an honor to meet you, Inventor.”

The Inventor held out her hand. “Please call me Lori.”

She was perhaps twenty-five. I gave her my hand. “Jacqui.”

“There!” Mrs. Clubb said. “I wish you to be friends.” Mrs. Clubb moved into the crowd without so much as a fare-you-well.

I chuckled. “That was rather abrupt.”

“I believe she has other guests to attend,” the Inventor said.

“I meant no offense.”

She smiled, her tone light. “None taken.”

I’d never spoken with another quadrant’s Inventor before. In fact, I thought doing so was forbidden. “Was there some topic you wished me to bring to my husband?”

“No,” the Inventor said. “But you might help nonetheless.”

This surprised me. “Oh? In what way?”

“Mrs. Clubb tells me you grew up in the Pot.”

The sail creaked overhead. “I did.”

“More to the point, in the Cathedral.”

“However did she know that?”

Lori Cuarenta smiled. “She knows just about everything. Was there a place in your Cathedral more revered than others? Where you weren’t allowed to play? A special door, or a secret room?”

That also seemed abrupt, and I felt wary. What did she want to know this for? “Surely the women there could answer your questions far better than I.”

“I’m told the Clubb Inventor may not visit the Spadros Pot.”

That had to be Roy’s doing. “Well, other than the altar, which is revered for obvious reason, I don’t know of any such place.”

The Inventor shook her head slightly. “What obvious reason?”

I stared at her. “Do you not know? The Dealers used to cast the Holy Cards upon that very spot.”

Kitty Clubb spoke behind me. “It’s true. Since the downfall of the Cathedral, the Dealers no longer cast the Cards as we did.”

Her voice startled me. “Kitty! I mean, Blessed Apprentice.” I curtsied, as did the Inventor. “How good to see you!”

Kitty gave me a wry smile. “I grow tired of people calling me that.” She took our hands. “It’s good to see you both.”

They must know each other well, I thought, given the similarity of ages. What would friendship with an Inventor be like? “You’ve been reading.” Last time we met, Kitty didn’t even know the Cathedral still stood.

Kitty blushed. “I have.” She turned to Lori Cuarenta. “Mrs. Spadros has been most patient with my unschooled questioning.”

“I wish I could help further,” I said, not wanting the questioning to resume. I caught Tony’s eye and smiled: our signal for conversations we wished to be extricated from.

He nodded, picking his way towards us.

“I was astonished to see you,” I said. “I thought you were cloistered for your first year.”

Kitty grinned. “What Mommy wants, Mommy gets.” She gestured at a woman wearing an emerald green robe and scarf, then laughed. “I’m allowed out, with a minder.”

Tony approached us and bowed. “Ladies, please excuse my interruption, but I have need to speak with my wife.”

I took Tony's arm and went the other direction. “Thanks.”

“Who was the woman with Kitty Clubb?”

“Their Inventor, with an inordinate interest in the Cathedral.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “As I recall, Miss Clubb had quite an interest in it at the dinner.”

She did, upsetting the entire table when Tony forced me to give answer to her questions. “As did you, if I recall.”

Tony stopped. “I should never have pressed you that night; I regret doing so.”

I smiled at him. “All is forgiven.” I drained my drink. “I’ve found that not all questions should be answered.” Yet there were still too many unanswered questions for my liking.

Why were the Clubbs so interested in the Cathedral?

What did Marja overhear in their warehouse?

Was she killed to keep her silent? Was it a random shooting? Or was it simply another of Frank Pagliacci’s distractions?

Gardena was right, of course. The Clubbs would never waste time killing a brothel owner in the Spadros Pot. And to do so using a zeppelin explosion?

I examined the glass in my hand, put it on a passing waiter’s tray. “I should stop drinking so much.”

Tony gave a slight smile. “That’s a good idea.”