Page 37 of Court of Shadows
Now in the light, I saw that Mr. Morningside had dressed exquisitely for the occasion, his suit pinstriped with iridescent silver and red, his ebony silk cravat studded with a ruby-encrusted broach in the shape of a bird’s skull. I felt woefully drab by contrast, my fresh apron now stained with soot and grease from the torch. He walked me to the flap in the pavilion and held me at arm’s length, seemingly unaware of how underdressed I felt.
“It shan’t go on much longer this evening, Louisa. I know you’re tired.” He ducked inside first, then waited for me to join.“You only need answer a few short questions, mostly about the nature of the translations you’ve been doing for me. If you get nervous or afraid, just say you need more time to think.”
“Wait,” I whispered, and he hesitated with the canvas in his hand, his head lowered to clear the short door. “Should I tell the truth? What if I say the wrong thing?”
Mr. Morningside gave me one of his big white smiles and shook his head. “You just say whatever you think is... Well,yourversion of the truth. One man’s truth is another man’s lie, what you see is not necessarily what I see, and what I believe is not what you believe. Does that make things more clear?”
“No,” I said with a sigh. “Not at all.”
His chuckle vanished into the pavilion with him, and I took a deep breath, stepping forward. That single step into the tent felt like walking off a cliff, and that was apt, because what I found inside would leave me stunned and reeling.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ihad not expected an ordinary tent, but this was altogether astonishing. It felt as if I had stepped into a fairy glade, dark and cool, tiny twinkling lights of every color dancing on the air above us. They were connected to nothing, freely lending their blue or rose or yellow glow before skipping off to light another corner of the pavilion. Even the boundaries of the place were hard to describe, as there seemed to be no walls or ceiling, just a shroud of black mist encasing us in air that smelled as sweet and honeyed as an apiary.
When I had rebounded from the shock, I gazed around in wonder at the volume of attendees. Where had they all come from? The pavilion was bustling with activity, men and women, young and old, some in long black cloaks and others in shimmering gowns of ivory. To my left was a long wooden table with plenty of goblets and decanters, though food looked scarce. A banner hung over that table with a large embroidered version of the pin I wore for safe passage. But the banner did not have the I AM WRATH script across it, just the serpents. Those who hovered around that table wore the black cloaks; those in white clung to a table at the far end of the tent, near a raised dais. That table had a banner on it with a simple coat of arms, four quadrants, two with wings and two with sheep. To my right stood a third table, but it was completely empty. Nobody lingered nearit. A banner hung above that table, but it was simply black and tattered, as if long forgotten.
Our entrance did not put an end to the din of conversation, and I glanced around sheepishly for any familiar faces. At last I spied Chijioke in a sea of black cloaks. His garb was far more brilliant—a scarlet coat, wide in the shoulders, with billowing sleeves and a diamond pattern down the front. He wore a small round hat, too, and his eyes glowed like red coals, as brightly as they had when I watched him doing his ferrying ceremony in Derridon.
I hurried over to him, amazed at his appearance. When he caught sight of me, he looked equally stunned.
“Ah, lass, I was curious indeed to see what the Court would make of you,” he said with an inscrutable smile.
“Make of me?” I asked.
“You cannot hide what you are in here,” he said, gesturing to the room. “No magic, no incantation, no spell would be strong enough to mask your nature. That is why I appear as I do, and why you appear asyoudo.”
I felt a fool as I looked down at my own frock, gasping when I found my dowdy servant’s clothes and apron were gone, replaced by an evening gown of green silk with a pattern of tiny vines. A light-as-gauze fichu was tucked around the neck, replacing the plain, sturdy one that had been there before. Chijioke had a good laugh over my surprise.
“What? You’ve done this before?” I reached for one ofthe goblets behind him on the table, trying to find my own reflection.
“No, but your reaction is the best I’ve so far seen. Here,” he said, taking the goblet and holding it so I could get a look at myself.
My hair had changed, too, swept up and braided into twisty ropes that secured a tall headdress of leaves and antlers. And my eyes... they were completely black, vast and startling, and I turned away from my own reflection in revulsion. There were plenty of other things and people to gape at. Chijioke stayed by my side, then handed me another cup, this one filled with what tasted like ice-cold honey wine.
“Where did they all come from?” I asked. “I saw no one enter the grounds....”
“That surprised me, too,” Chijioke replied. “But there is a door in the back, by the judge’s seat. It leads to... well, lass, all kinds of places. I think the shepherd wanted a whole mess of witnesses just in case Mr. Morningside tried to wiggle out of the trial.”
I had almost forgotten that I was there to testify. Through the milling crowd I spotted Mr. Morningside and watched him proceed through the pavilion toward the dais at the other end of the tent. His magnificent suit did not transform, buthedid, his image flickering as if one were rapidly turning the pages of a book and catching glimpses of illustrations here and there. One instant he was an elderly man with a curlicue beard, thenext he was as I knew him, then the next he was childlike and rosy-cheeked. Before my very eyes, the Devil was showing his hundreds of faces.
“Can I hide here with you?” I murmured. “I do not want to be questioned.”
“I don’t envy you, Louisa,” he said, finding his own cup. “But my time will come soon, too.”
“And will you tell them the truth?” I pressed. “About what happened with Lee and his uncle? About Mr. Morningside’s mistake?”
Chijioke’s easy smile died and he looked to his feet, red eyes suddenly dimmer. “I... hadn’t thought about it. The truth seems wisest.”
“It seems wisest until it doesn’t,” I said with a sigh. “What if they leave the Adjudicators to spy on us because Mr. Morningside isn’t doing his job properly? Don’t you think whatever the punishment is, it will be for us, too?”
He nodded, slowly, raising the cup to his lips and leaving it there as if the liquid inside could give him the answers he needed. “I’ll chew it over, that’s for certain. Don’t look now, but I think you’re being summoned.”
The chatter in the tent had died down. In that silence, I turned and found a path had been cleared toward me. A tall, liquid gold figure stood in front of us. It was sexless and ageless, just the shape of a man or woman with skin like burning aurous fire.
“Louisa.”
It was Finch, recognizable only because of his voice. When I looked past him, I saw two other figures like him, featureless but gold, waiting at the raised platform. Seated there above them in an ornate wooden throne was the shepherd. He hadn’t changed a jot.
