But I couldn't focus on the past. I needed to know what we would do long term. Maske had agreed to take us in last night, but, judging by the state of the theatre, he did not have the means to support us out of charity. We needed somewhere to hide, and then a way to earn enough money for new papers, new identities, and new lives elsewhere in the Archipelago.

But would Maske let us stay that long, and then how would we raise the funds?

The idea occurred to me, brilliant in its simplicity. In the seance, Maske, or a spirit that spoke through him, had mentioned a stage, an audience, and magic. Something within me shivered. I knew how we could stay hidden for a time, and then make the money we needed to escape. Though it would be a risk, the gamble could work.

"Are you never meant to work in magic again?" I asked.

"That was the terms of our arrangement."

"But are you allowed to teach anyone else?"

Drystan perked up, and I felt his eyes on me as I studied Maske's face.

"That was not mentioned in the arrangement," Maske said, his gaze level with mine. "I've even taken on a student or two in the past, but none proved suitable."

The words came easily, like I did not even need to formulate them in my mind. "Then you could teach us," I said, my eyes on his.

Thoughts flitted across his face. "And why should I do a thing like that?"

His words momentarily stumped me. We were fugitives. Drystan had murdered the ringmaster. The policiers were after us. The Shadow was after us. Even if we let the trail die down, performing in public was not in our current best interests.

But it was better than working in the docks for a pittance to pay for our passage out of Ellada, where the authorities were sure to check. The policiers and the Shadow wouldn't expect us to perform in public. I could not stop the feeling that this would work.

I needed to convince Maske that we were worth training, and not tell him that it might be in vain, if we still felt we needed to leave Ellada. I didn't like to mislead him, but I couldn't see another choice.

"It could work," Drystan cut in, almost as if he read my thoughts. "You have hinted that you have money troubles, and I know you, Maske. I can tell that even all these years later, you miss magic and performance. We can, in turn, pay our way."

"I do not know if you could be taughta" he started.

Drystan laughed a a short, sharp sound. "You taught me plenty. I still remember it all. And I'm sure you'd find Micah a quick study. He learned the trapeze in a matter of months, rather than years."

Maske peered at me, and I could almost hear the cogs in his head turning as he considered our proposal.

"I have not performed in such a long time. All of my tricks and acts are years out of date. I do not know if I have that in me anymore." He stared at his coffee cup again. "And it would be risky."

Drystan smiled. "We could disguise ourselves. We're actors as well, remember. Who would expect it? Sometimes, it is better to hide in plain sight." His eyes were wide, and he was the most alert I had seen him since the night the circus fell apart. For a performer, the stage was a rush; a drug.

Magic illusion was a performance, like the circus, and abandoning the stage pained me already. The thought of never seeing the shocked delight on someone's face as I did something they thought impossible was unbearable. The circus had its own magic. I wanted to find more of my own. At least for a little while longer.

Maske stood and took our coffee cups to the sink, washing them as he faced the overcast sky through the window. Several orange and red leaves danced on the whistling wind outside. I wished I could know his thoughts.

Drystan met my gaze, and he nodded. He understood. We had both lost so much. We needed to gain something else in turn.

And maybe I wanted to find out how Maske had done the trick in the seance, or what it meant if there was no trickery involved.

The magician turned back to us.

"Alright," he said. "But I am not committing to anything long-term. You both need to hide while the authorities search for you, and to pass the time I will teach you, and you will create disguises and learn the basics. But if in three months, I don't think it'll work, that it's too dangerous, then you will leave. And Drystan, you will consider the life debt paid."

Maske and Drystan stared at each other. After a long pause, Drystan nodded.

"What kind of disguises?" I asked.

"Pretend to be foreigners, newly arrived from the Temnes, or Kymri. You will learn some of the language, and speak Elladan with an accent. With that and your magicians' uniforms and the wonders you create, no one will see you. They will see only the illusion."

I looked at Drystan's pale blue eyes and blonde hair. Drystan guessed my thoughts. "How will people truly believe we are Temnian?"

"I have a way, but it'll take some tinkering before I can show you. But, even with that, people will probably not really believe you. But you would not be the first magicians to pretend to be from a former colony, nor will you be the last. There is an air of mystique to the foreign, mostly born from rumor and ignorance, but nonetheless there. We may as well begin sooner rather than later. I will go into town and gather supplies." His enthusiasm faded from his features. "But I would appreciate it if, while I am away, you do not snoop behind closed doors. There are dangerous things moldering in the darkness, and other possessions that are for my eyes alone."

He held his gaze with ours, unblinking, and I was reminded of the man from the seance who spoke in three tones at once. What had been a growing sense of comfort around him dissipated, leaving a thick lump of misgiving in my stomach.

Of course, that only made me wonder all the more what he was hiding.

We broke our fast on toast and butter and marmalade a more luxuries. My breakfast for the past several months had been porridge and a fried or boiled egg. The second cup of coffee was a mistake, though, for I could not sit still.

Maske left. The kitchen seemed oddly silent once he left.

"Well, we should leave some things alone, but we can at least do a little exploring. Come, I'll show you the roof. It has some of the best views of the city," Drystan said with a ghost of his old smile, and we made our way up the dusty wooden steps. I paused at a landing, staring down its murky depths at the closed doors. Full of secrets a Maske's to tell, not mine to find.

Drystan laid a hand on my shoulder. I followed him up the stairs. On the landing opposite the door to our loft, we clambered onto the wrought-iron balcony, climbing the twining steps to the roof.

I gasped at the view, reminded of childhood memories of climbing buildings in Sicion. The theatre was taller than the surrounding tenements, so we didn't have to fear neighbors noticing two fugitives when they looked out of their window as they washed dishes. So many memories of life as Iphigenia Laurus flitted at the edge of my consciousness. My brother Cyril's face as he climbed with me. Tucking my hair under a cap before I stole through the streets to climb, and returning to change back into a dress and pretend I had been practicing the piano the entire time.

The gray-tinged clouds cast shadows over Imachara's swirling streets. Its tall buildings jutted toward the clouds, dark granite spotted with the colors of laundry hung between the wynds, and the flowers in the window boxes, still clinging to life before winter took them.

Twin spires of the churches of the Lord and Lady reached toward the sky, one made of white marble and topped with gold to represent the Lord of the Sun, and the other of dark marble and topped with silver alloy to represent the Lady of the Moon. And twining through the backbone of the city were the blue Penglass domes, their surfaces unmarked, taunting the world with whatever secrets they held within. I pushed away the memory of what happened when I touched them.

In the parks, the leaves were turning to fire, the grass dulling. The day was warm, but with a chill on the wind that promised true autumn and rain, tinged with the sharp scent of chimney smoke. The wind whipped our hair as we stared over the vast expanse of Imachara, Ellada's capital and former seat of the Empire of the Archipelago.

Drystan sighed and turned from the view, lying down on the sun-warmed roof slates, holding a hand to shade his eyes, gazing at the clouds.

Up here, I could not help but think of our troubles. Our tragedies. Tears pricked at my eyes, my breath hitching in my throat.

I stared up at the sky, trying to stop the tears from falling. Drystan did not notice my tears. Or chose not to.

I turned from him, lying down under the faint warmth of the sun, and, as if I could not stop it, a hole opened in me, and I bit down on a keening wail of grief. I let the tears come, dropping onto my shirt.

Glancing over my shoulder, Drystan's shoulders hitched. He, too, remembered our horrors. Eventually, the autumn sun dried my tears, though the pain felt no less. I turned over on my stomach, avoiding Drystan's gaze, the sun warming my back.

"So we'll stay," I said when I trusted my voice enough to speak.

His eyes flicked over to me, his skin blotchy from his tears. I looked away.

"Yes, Maske can harbor us for three months. If things are alright, then we'll perform with him for a time and then leave Ellada like we planned."

"Will that upset him a his taking the time to teach us and then us just leaving?"

Drystan stared into the distance. "He'll understand."

I hoped he was right.

"What else can you tell me about Maske?" I asked.

"It's his story to tell," Drystan said.

"Come on. You can tell me something. You might trust him, but I don't think I do."

"That's probably wise."

"You're not helping."

He half smiled, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. "Alright. Neither side is blameless in this story. Maske and Taliesin used to be best friends and partners a the best magicians in Ellada. And then it all went to Styx. Taliesin turned against Maske and became his enemy, but Maske drove him to do it. There're two sides to every story."

"What does that mean?"

"Maske slept with Taliesin's fiancee."

"Ah."

"Course, it's more complicated than that. Maske regrets it. And he's very different to how he was back then. They say your personality changes several times over as you age. You at sixteen will not be like you when you're thirty."

"I suppose," I sighed, looking up at the clouds. I wondered what I would be like when I was thirty. It seemed so far away. Almost half my life again.

We lazed on the roof, gazing at Imachara, each lost in our thoughts. The images of the previous night would not leave me alone. Playing over and over. When the clouds covered the sun, I shivered with cold. With guilt. With fear of what would happen.

5.

TWISTING THE ACES.

"Twisting the Aces is the oldest magic shop in Imachara, and possibly Ellada. It began as a small stall in the marketplace, with the old fortuneteller, Fay Larch, selling amulets against the evil eye. She later diversified, selling all manner of magical apparatus.

When attitudes toward magic shifted, her shop and wares likewise morphed. She bought the current premises and sold tricks to the early magicians of her day, from the simple cup and balls trick to the props for grand illusion. After her death, her son took over, and his child after him, and Twisting the Aces has continued for all these many years later."

Brochure for Twisting the Aces We didn't leave the theatre for two weeks.

Even during the day, we kept the curtains drawn; hesitating to walk in front of them at night, for fear people would somehow recognize our silhouettes. An artist's impression of both of us appeared in another newspaper article, but luckily both sketches weren't quite right. There were door-to-door searches.

In the previous week they knocked on the door of the Kymri Theatre. Drystan and I waited with bated breath in the hallway, out of sight, as Maske opened the door. When the two policiers asked if he had seen two boys matching our description, he'd said: "Afraid not. I thought those two would have been found by now." A frown. A hint of disapproval.

The policiers bristled. The one with the higher voice said: "They will be, sure enough." There was a long pause, in which I imagined them trying to peer into the gloom of the entryway. I clutched Drystan, certain they'd demand to search the place, but in the end, they left, and we breathed a tentative sigh of relief, short-lived. All the neighbors knew Maske lived alone. What would they think when they saw us? I could only hope enough time had passed so they didn't make the connection.

The day before, Maske showed us how we could pass as Temnian. He passed us both Vestige pendants on thin chains, called Glamours, to wear beneath our clothing. The pendants were like little mirrors, shimmering with rainbows like soap bubbles. A flick of a hidden switch and, to the eye, our skin appeared to be burnished gold, our eyes and hair black, our features subtly transformed. We'd pass as Temnian. My eyebrows rose as I'd noted the changes in Drystan and seen myself in the mirror. I didn't know how I felt about wearing a face that was not my own, from a country that wasn't mine either.

And it was yet another illegal Vestige in Maske's possession.

I pulled a strand of my hair away. In the mirror, it looked dark, but when I saw it, it was its customary auburn.

"How...?"

"The illusion doesn't work on yourself," Drystan said as I'd switched it off, relieved to see my own face in the mirror again.

It was true we were not the only people to take on such disguises. Maske showed us several other magicians in one of his history books, and the ringmaster Ragona gave himself a foreign lilt, along with many members of the circus and carnival. I never learned where Bil had pretended to be from.

Now I'd never know.

We turned on the Glamours again, dressing in the costumes Maske purchased for us. I widened my eyes and stuck out my tongue at the stranger in the mirror.

We went down to the kitchen. "Hello, my Temnian visitors," Maske said, sweeping a bow, when we entered. "I am honored that you have come calling from your faraway land."

I gave him a small, stiff bow as the Temnians did, feeling uncomfortable, holding a palm resting on the tip of my nose to bisect my face, symbolizing the sun and the moon, the Lord and the Lady, and the light and the dark within us all.

Drystan spoiled the illusion by sticking his tongue out, and I laughed. We turned off the Glamours. This was the Drystan I knew and missed. Over the past two weeks, he had grown quieter than I remembered him being in the circus. When he thought I wasn't looking, he stared at nothing. I knew that thoughts of what he and I had done were never far from his mind.

I felt guilty for laughing. I had no right, with Aenea dead and the circus in ruins.

"I'm planning on going into town today," Maske said that morning as we prepared a breakfast of toast and eggs. "To the Aces."

We both looked up. Twisting the Aces was the best magic supply store in Ellada.

He smiled. "That got your attention. Time to test your disguises."

"Is it safe to leave?" I asked, my voice quavering.

"You've been in here for weeks," Maske said. "I won't say it's riskless, but you can't hide in here forever. The disguises will fool the casual eye."

It was the other eyes that I feared. But in the end, Drystan and I shrugged into our patched coats. Maske had not started teaching us magic, and doing nothing all day in a dusty theatre where most of the doors were locked had grown rather dull. And dangerous. My mind often strayed to the locked door of Maske's workshop, wondering what lay within. The days were long and we both craved structure.

I missed so many people from the circus a Aenea, of course, with constant pain within my heart. But also those who, at the time, I did not think I had grown so close to. Bethany, the Bearded Woman and Madame Limond, the Four-Legged Woman. Juliet, the Leopard Lady of Linde. The strongman, Karg, and the small man, Tin. Sal and Tila, the dancers, with their ribald jokes that made me blush. Even Tauro, the Bull-Man, who could not speak but liked to ruffle my hair. I hoped they all found other work. Even if all of them must hate us for what we did.

We set off into town, though I was still terrified that someone might recognize us. I turned up the collar of my shirt, hoping I looked like a convincing Temnian boy. I drank in the sight of unfamiliar faces. Men on a break from factory work in their dirty coveralls, their faces smeared with coal, soot, or grease. Children running underfoot, selling flowers or newspapers in the street, crying their wares. Harried women with bags of clothes for washing or mending. Here and there, well-dressed men and women in furs, picking their way carefully over the muck in the gutter.

It was a long walk to Twisting the Aces. Despite the oversized coat, I shivered in the chill wind. Granite buildings loomed to either side of us. Rubbish overflowed from bins. So many people crammed together, living and working but most never speaking to each other.

Twisting the Aces looked like the oldest shop in Imachara. Its cracked wooden sign hung over the teal door and needed a fresh coat of paint. The dusty front window display showcased playing cards dangling from strings, crystal balls, and magic wands lying on paisley Byssian shawls.

A bell chimed as we entered. A bored-looking boy, with a mop of messy brown hair and a mole near his mouth, glanced up at us from the book he was reading. The shop smelled of wood, beeswax polish, dust, animals, and the sharp tang of metal. Shelves were filled to bursting with all manner of magical tricks.

I gravitated to large canisters of coins filled with double-headed and double-tailed marks of bronze, false silver, and false gold. Haphazard stacks of card decks, both traditional and tarot, filled another shelf. I itched to run my hands along the rows upon rows of magic books made from crumbling and new leather. Nesting boxes and dolls of wood, rubber bands and balls, false gems, stuffed doves and rabbits as well as cages of live doves and rabbits, chalices, silk scarves, handcuffs and keys, coiled chain links, and all manner of wares whose purposes I did not know lined the rest. Small handwritten price tags peeked from the bottom of the shelves, ranging from the modest to the incredible.

A glass display case behind the bored teenager showed valuable antique wares. Crystal balls with Vestige metal, some possibly made out of Penglass, which would make them unimaginably expensive. A large tree made of gold, with the leaves from the Twelve Trees of Nobility carved of jade. A necklace on a mannequin that the sign proclaimed belonged to the first Byssian queen and was haunted by her spirit. On these there were no price tags.

To the left of the shop were large props a a carved Kymri sarcophagus, mysterious trunks and large crates stacked on top of each other, full-length mirrors, cabinets, and cages.