The Mask of Mirrors M. Carrick; (classic novels to read txt) 📖

on trading glances and shy smiles with a young Cleoter son than paying attention to the obligatory ceremonies that went with the union of two powerful houses.

First came the inscriptor Vargo had mentioned, Breccone Indestris. He was middle-aged and handsome enough, in a bland Liganti way, but the only thing he’d talked about when Renata arranged a dance with him was the state of numinatria in Seteris. She’d been forced to spin all manner of creative nonsense, and almost ruined it by laughing when he expounded on her lies as though he knew more about them than she did.

He made a great show of spreading out the betrothal numinat, offering a prayer to the deities Civrus and Pavlus, who blessed marriages, and then closing the circle with a swipe of his ink brush. His attempt at showmanship might even have been vaguely effective, if his performance weren’t taking place up in the gallery where nobody but the family could see it.

Once he was done, a dark-haired woman who couldn’t be more than a decade older than Renata moved into the gap between Mettore Indestor and Naldebris Coscanum, nodding solemnly to the heads of each family in turn. “Tanaquis Fienola,” Leato murmured in Renata’s ear. “She’s the best astrologer in Nadežra. A friend of our family, too.”

He was clearly proud of the connection. Is she the one who drew my chart? Renata wondered. She’d heard nothing after Giuna’s clumsy questioning; her invented dates must have passed muster.

Mezzan and Marvisal stepped forward, taking a scroll from the astrologer and unrolling it between them. They held it up to show the crowd, though the writing was too small to read from the floor.

Resting a hand atop each of theirs, Fienola announced, “The charts have been drawn and the alignments read. With the blessings of Celnis, the year is set as 211. With the blessings of Esclus, the month is Colbrilun. With the blessings of Thrunium, the date is the third day of the third iteration. With the blessings of Sacretha, the day is Andusny. With the blessings of Civrus and Pavlus, the hour is second earth. Within this alignment, may all the glory of the cosmos be channeled to bless this union between Mettore Indestor and Marvisal Coscanum.”

She brought Mezzan’s and Marvisal’s hands together, each still holding one end of the scroll. The idea was to close the circle, binding the dates much like a numinat was closed and bound.

And it would have gone beautifully, if Mezzan hadn’t swayed and lost his balance. The scroll crumpled, and the tear of paper ripped across the silent ballroom as he fumbled for support. Fienola and Marvisal helped him recover, and they continued on as though nothing had taken place, but the mirrored scowls on Eret Indestor’s and Eret Coscanum’s faces marked the mistake.

Leato snorted. “Someone should have reminded him not to lock his knees,” he whispered to Renata.

She made a vague sound in reply. I wonder—if I follow up on that, can I spike the betrothal entirely?

An ambitious thought, but worth considering, especially if she could gain some influence over the astrologer. Ren had never had any dealings with their kind; her mother had, in typical Vraszenian fashion, scoffed at their art. They’d have you believe that two children born at the same time follow the same pattern, Ivrina said. But every person’s pattern is their own. Astrology was based on the same principles as numinatria, though, and the power of those principles was visible everywhere in Nadežra.

Half-formed notions of how to use it to break the betrothal vanished as a new thought came to her. Could this—astrology, not inscribed numinatria—be what Mettore’s pattern referred to?

The ceremony concluded, Mettore thanking Tanaquis Fienola and then discreetly hauling his son off to singe his ears, leaving Tanaquis alone at the base of the steps.

“Would you like to meet her?” Donaia asked. Instead of waiting for an answer, she led Renata toward the bemused-looking astrologer.

“Your work is fascinating, Meda Fienola,” Renata said after they’d been introduced. “Mother never paid much attention to it—she disliked the notion of anything governing her actions, even heavenly powers—but it seems Nadežra holds your skill in high regard.”

“Interesting,” Tanaquis said, her head tilting and grey eyes focusing as though it was Renata, and not her words, that evoked curiosity.

Before Ren could fear she’d given something away, the woman blinked and cast a sour look at the gallery, where the families were filing out so the musicians could retake their places. “If only Eret Indestor shared that regard. Instead, it’s ‘chart it again, chart it again,’ as though the planets themselves change alignment on his whim. He—”

She bit down on whatever she’d been about to say, but Donaia nodded. “So the cosmos doesn’t desire this union as much as the families do?”

Tanaquis’s snort was answer enough. “Most of the families. The cosmos and Alta Faella are in alignment for once. Now I’m off to help Eret Coscanum explain to his sister that a ripped contract doesn’t give her the right to annul her grandniece’s betrothal.” With a nod for Renata and a touch to Donaia’s hand, Tanaquis excused herself to attend a glowering Faella Coscanum.

“It’s a shame she’s only delta gentry,” Donaia told Renata, as though being born to such a lowly lot was a tragedy. “If she were noble, they wouldn’t take her for granted the way they do.”

“Such a pity,” Renata agreed.

Isla Indestor, the Pearls: Pavnilun 5

“You must tell me where you obtained the brocade for Alta Marvisal’s dress,” Renata said to Faella Coscanum later on. “She outshines the moons.”

Faella’s mood had improved after her conversation with Tanaquis, possibly aided by the running stream of people laying flattery at her feet in the card salon. Renata had carefully orbited through several times, hoping to catch the old woman’s eye without obviously angling for it. Though not the head of her house, Faella was the unquestioned arbiter of Nadežran society; the biggest obstacle in Ren’s own climb