Tell the Wind and Fire(61)

The hotel was lit with an extravagant display of magic, so bright that it burned for all of the Dark city to see.

It was not only the hotel that was changed.

In front of the Plaza entrance stood the doppelganger. He was all stark lines of black and white against the golden façade. He was insouciant in formalwear, when Ethan had been adorably awkward, his shirts always a little rumpled and the collars tugged open, as if he was willing his way back to being casual. Carwyn was wearing a long white scarf that went around his neck and flew like a jaunty flag over one shoulder. As I approached, I saw that beneath the scarf his shirt collar was buttoned up tight, so that the edge of the collar cut slightly into his skin. I wondered if he missed the familiar pressure of his old collar.

He was welcome to have it back, anytime he wanted. I would have been delighted to put it on him myself.

He must have seen the dark thought on my face, because he smiled at the sight of me. He kept one hand in his pocket but offered me his arm. I took it, forced to stand too close, and we walked down the carpet to the blazing hotel.

I had been here before, at the same hotel—though it had been a little darker, and had been with a different boy who had the same face. Something else was different. There had always been cheering or chattering crowds before.

There was a crowd now, but nobody was cheering. I looked around nervously for weapons but saw none. Of course, I knew that meant very little.

The people who had turned out to watch us were silent with fear or resentment or both. They were not applauding or shouting, simply watching to see what would happen next.

I knew just how they felt.



The ball to welcome more armed guards into our town was already in full swing. People were milling about and whirling through the large rooms, every doorway draped to give the impression of the hanging curtains on a bed in the kind of bedroom that got called a boudoir. I paused briefly, leaning against one of the massive pillars, and looked across the sea of people.

There were the members of the Light Council, looking strange in their party clothes when I was so used to seeing them dressed for business. There were people I knew from school, people I knew from other parties, people who seemed to have been created only for the purpose of attending parties and whom I never saw at any other time, except in photographs of parties I had not been to. And among New York’s glitterati were the guards, wearing their severe white uniforms.

Mark had said this was a time for celebrating and feeling secure, had insisted the guards go ostentatiously unarmed for the cameras. There were swords hanging on the walls, proclaiming this a military occasion, but none in the guards’ belts.

I remembered one of those blades coming so close to cutting Ethan’s head off his shoulders and found myself shivering despite the heat of the crowd. I could not help but be glad of Mark’s decree. I could not help wishing him success.

Carwyn had slipped off almost immediately upon our entrance to the ballroom, murmuring something about the little boys’ room.

“They have hookers and drugs in there, is what I’m telling you,” he said as he went. “It’s good to be rich. See you in a bit.”

I let him go without making a scene. I had plenty of time: it was going to be a long night, and he would be expected to be at my side during the greater part of it. He might say stupid things, but he had asked me to behave, and I had to believe that meant he was willing to play his part as well. I leaned against one of the large pillars, by the curtains, and looked out at the crowd. People were standing in clusters, chatting. It was just like school, except everyone was older and wearing fancier clothes, and breaking the rules in this world meant death.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said David Brin, the finance minister, coming up to me. “That all this is a shocking waste of money.”

“I wasn’t,” I told him.

“You’re a girl from the Dark city, though,” Brin told me, and I looked at him sharply. He held up his hands in a swift, placating gesture. “I mean no offense—quite the contrary. You’re not used to the senseless waste of the Light city, the way we think of power and gold both as light, and expect the sun to shine night and day. I see it, you know, how you fall silent when the others talk about spending more.”

I looked at his raised hands, at the carved gold of his rings. I’d never really thought any of his suggested cutbacks sounded good, and he’d never suggested spending extra money on the Dark city. He meant well, but it was strange that people thought a man who had always had too much money would be the ideal man to handle limited money, would be able to imagine how it was to be hungry or cold.