"I will surely apprehend that villainous duplicate, that duplicitous villain, at my earliest convenience tomorrow," he muttered angrily, dressing for the Game. "I simply have more important business to attend at the moment than dealing with the likes of him. The charming Lady Illyth awaits, and I cannot disappoint her."
He caught the public ferry departing the isle a half hour before sunset and hired a carriage on the Bitterstone wharves to take him out to Woodenhall. The six-mile trip was becoming quite familiar by now, and Jack had long since tired of watching the scenery. Still, he bounced out of the coach with a lively step and donned his most charming grin when they arrived at the manor to pick up Illyth for the evening.
"My dear Illyth!" he cried. "I presume no uncouth blackguards have troubled you today?"
Illyth climbed up into the coach, taking Jack's hand, and settled in the plush seat. She was dressed in a beautiful dress of green brocade, trimmed with white lace at collar and cuff.
"Your ill-mannered twin hasn't shown himself in three days," she said. Then she reached behind her back and drew out a slender wand of dark wood, tipped with burnished brass. "But, just in case, Father bought me a wand charged with a dozen lightning spells. I hope the rascal shows himself again!"
"I didn't know you had any talent for wizardry, my dear." The coach rolled off across the cobblestones and into the humid night.
"Very little, I'm afraid, but I know enough to discharge this wand. There are a couple of elm trees in the woods behind our house that are somewhat the worse for my practicing." Illyth returned the device to whatever hidden pocket she'd removed it from and then turned her dark, serious gaze on the rogue. "So, what have you been up to for the last three days, Jack? Have you learned anything more about the shadow, or the doings of Tiger and Mantis?"
Jack shrugged, choosing his words with care. "A fruitless investigation into the nature of my enemy," he said, which was not entirely untrue. "I didn't learn much." He cobbled together a largely fictional account of the last several days, emphasizing the frustrating and hopeless search for his shadow-copy. It was not his best work, but Illyth skeptically accepted it, until the coach clattered up to the Raven's Glory. "Excellent!" said Jack. "And look, we are here."
The Green Lord's banquet was to take place in the pretentious restaurant, ballroom, and tavern known as the Raven's Glory. Three stories high, the establishment had been rented out in its entirety to the Game of Masks for the evening, no doubt enriching the fat coffers of the equally fat Veldarno Khalabari even more than hundreds of patrons engaged in a wild evening of expensive dinners, free-flowing wine, and festive dancing would have done. Jack and Illyth were helped down from the coach at the front door of the banquet hall by two manservants in pristine livery and walked inside to robe for the Game.
Masked as Lord Fox and Lady Crane, they moved on into the great room. The floor was crowded with several dozen Game-goers in their magical masks, a splendid sight. The proprietor Khalabari, short and sweaty, dashed from place to place like a lump of butter on a hot skillet, hardly tending to one task before another caught his attention and whisked him away in a flutter of unctuous courtesy.
Jack and Illyth climbed up to the balcony overlooking the dance floor, keeping their eyes open for Tiger and Mantis. The conspirators had not yet made their appearance, which unnerved Jack greatly. If the two plotters simply didn't show, he would have no way to find out whether they were surprised to see Illyth and him together at the revel. Beyond that, he lacked any more sophisticated plan.
"I am afraid that I am considering this whole affair to the point of distraction," he said aloud.
"Murder? Kidnapping? Impersonators and shadow wizards?" Illyth shook her head. "Jack, I do not see how you can possibly give the matter too much attention. What shall we do when Mantis and Tiger show up?"
Jack thought on that for a moment. "They've been careful to cover their identities so far. What if we simply unmask them and discover who they are?"
"We would be disqualified at once," Illyth pointed out.
"Perhaps we could lure one or both somewhere out of sight, where we could quickly identify our antagonist without revealing our own identities?"
"All we might do is start a scuffle, in which we are as likely to be unmasked as they. And if Tiger and Mantis report that we have unmasked them, we might be disqualified anyway."
"Why, then it should be their word against ours, and that rarely carries the day in any dispute," Jack replied.
"You mean we would blatantly deny having anything to do with them?" Illyth seemed honestly repelled by the idea.
"Correct, my dear. Besides, I may have a trick or two to ensure that no scuffle ensues." Jack scanned the crowd again but did not spy the familiar masks. "I see no sign of them yet. Do you perchance have your Game journal with you?"
"Yes, but playing the Game-"
"-is exactly what we came here to do, dear Illyth." Jack took her by the elbow and steered her toward the buffet table. "So, what do we still need to learn?"
Illyth showed him the book, holding it close so that no one nearby could easily see its contents. She'd recorded each clue they had actually seen in one section, and then the clues they'd traded through hearsay a little farther on. In the last part, she'd carefully drawn a large table across two pages, showing by each title the kingdoms and names. With a charcoal pencil she'd filled in the information they knew, and the information they suspected. "We need a number of clues yet," she said. "I fear we've fallen too far behind by missing the Yellow Lord's tournament."
"Shall we attempt to garner more clues, then?" Jack asked.
Illyth reluctantly nodded, looking about for any sign of Tiger or Mantis. "I suppose so. We-oh, wait. What's this?"
With a sudden fanfare on the ballroom floor below, a pair of coronets sounded. Randall Morran, the chief game judge, cleared a small circle in the center of the dance floor. "Ladies and gentlemen! A contestant chooses to attempt the solution of the Riddle of the Seven Faceless Lords!"
"Oh, dear," said Illyth. "We're too late!"
"Not necessarily. Be ready to write down the answer given; if it is wrong, we may learn a clue through elimination," observed Jack.
On the floor below, a stout lady with a goldfishlike mask stepped forward, escorted by a tall gentleman with the noble features of a lion. "Attend, please, the Lady Carp and Lord Lion!" the Master Crafter called.
Lady Carp turned and curtsied to the waiting assemblage. She withdrew from her sleeve a slip of paper, examined it for a moment, and then began to read: "Here is my solution," she said. "The Red Lord is Buriz, his kingdom Pentar. The Orange Lord is Fatim, his kingdom Quarra. The Yellow Lord is Dubhil of Trile. The Green Lord is Alcantar of Unen. The Blue Lord is Erizum of Dues. The Purple Lord is Geciras of Septun. And the Black Lord is Carad of Hexan. Is it solved?"
Randall Morran made a great show of consulting a small parchment sealed in a ribbon-wrapped envelope, standing clear of any observers. He allowed the wait to become deliriously long, and then shook his head. "Alas, Lady Carp, your solution is incorrect in four particulars. A noble effort, but not enough to win."
The Green Lord strode up beside the Master Crafter and stood before Lady Carp, silent and tall. He pointed at Carp and Lion solemnly, and then drew his finger across his throat ceremonially.