Page 154 of The Mask Falling

The mask tilted. “May I ask where you heard that name?”

“I read it. In a ledger belonging to the Man in the Iron Mask.”

“Ah.”

He rested his elbows on the edge of the spring. His fingers were long, one adorned with an unusual silver ring.

“Le Vieux Orphelin. The Old Orphan,” I said. “Tu ne me parais pas particulièrement vieux.”

A short, rich laugh. “Ankou told me you spoke French. A welcome surprise,” he said. “Nevertheless, I would prefer to hold this conversation in English, the language of our mutual enemy. I would enjoy plotting their downfall in the tongue they compel us both to speak.”

“If you like.” My nape was slick with sweat. “I didn’t know there were any hot springs in Paris.”

“Only this one, buried deep under the district of Passy. I discovered this small quarry with Renelde. There was never much trust between myself and my fellow grands ducs, so I thought it wise to have a hideout. I was right.”

We fell into silence for a time. Carefully, I tipped my head back into the water to soften my hair.

“Elegant.”

I looked back at him. “What?”

“Your neck. Tell me,” he said, “when you set out to defy the anchor, did you ever imagine what a neck would look like without a head upon it?”

“I didn’t need to imagine,” I said. “I’d seen it on the screens before.”

“You saw it recently, I know,” he said, “when your own father was murdered with the Wrath of the Inquisitor. A sword with a gilded blade, to show there is glory in the death of a traitor. Scion does like its symbols. In that, the republic is not so different from a monarchy.”

I watched the mask.

“The rulers of old wore crowns and jewels to proclaim their divine authority. They believed these trinkets would protect them, and for a long time, they were right. Until their trinkets became their downfall, and their subjects saw them for what they were beneath. Mummers. Frauds. Mortals dressed as gods.” His voice rang in the gloom. “I understand that under Haymarket Hector, the mime-lords and mime-queens of London fell prey to the same weakness for . . . trappings.”

“Theatrics went too far under my predecessors,” I agreed, “but I’m not above using greasepaint myself. It can be a weapon. A disguise.”

“Oh, yes. But props must be wed to decisive, committed action. When I was told about the speech you made when you became Underqueen, I thought we might share that sentiment.”

I decided not to reply. Best not to seem too eager.

“This first meeting of ours is unusual, but promising,” he remarked. “Here in this spring, Underqueen, we have no crowns, no jewels, no costumes. No means to disguise ourselves.”

“Says the man in a mask.”

“I hope you will indulge that small hypocrisy.” He lifted his fingers to the edges and gave a pull. “It cannot be helped.”

It must be surgically attached to him. The thought was like a hand around my throat.

“Le Basilic threatened to remove it in the colony. He went into some detail about the ways he would attempt it,” he said. “Fortunately, Underqueen, you came before he could.”

I waited for him to continue, strangely fascinated.

“A mask allows a person to transcend the limits of one body, one face,” he said. “I have built a reputation in Paris. It is inevitably disappointing to find that the subject of any legend is no more than a man. So while Le Latronpuche and La Reine des Thunes showed their faces to our subjects, I became my mask, my costume, and it became me. I made them whisper. I made them wonder. And when you make people do that, they start to tell their own stories.” His skin gleamed in the warmth. “I trust your wounds are healing now.”

“Yes,” I replied. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It is the least I can do to thank you. Hard though it is that we lost poor Malperdy, he will be remembered.” The mask was still. “I want you to know that I have spoken to Léandre about his decision to direct most of the prisoners to the Forêt de Meudon. Much as it pains me to admit it, he acted reasonably. Had any more of them joined us, it would not have been you alone who was swept into the flood.”

I looked away.

“I was in a similar colony,” I said. “We left people behind then, too. It was difficult for me to accept.”

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