Contents 18 страница. on either side of the path of the litters up the hill and some chemical had

on either side of the path of the litters up the hill and some chemical had

been added—or some magic used—to make their lights shine in varying

colors so that they changed from golden, to red, to purple, to blue, to

green, to silver, and these colors shone true. They took Elena’s breath

away, as the only things that were not tinged with red in the whole world

that she could see. Damon had brought a bottle of Black Magic with him

and was almost too high-spirited—no pun intended, Elena thought.

As their litter stopped at the top of the hill, Damon and Elena were

helped out and down a hallway that cut out much of the sunlight. Above

them hung delicate, lighted paper lanterns—some larger than the litter

they’d been in a moment ago—brightly lighted and fancifully shaped

which gave a festive, playful air to a palace otherwise so magnificent

that it was a little intimidating.

They passed by lighted fountains, some of which had

surprises—like the line of magical frogs that constantly leaped from lily

pad to lily pad: plop, plop, plop, like the sound of rain on a rooftop, or a

huge gilded serpent that coiled among trees and over the heads of

visitors, winding from there to the ground and then back up to the trees

again.

Then again, it was the ground that would turn transparent with all

manner of magical schools of fish, sharks, eels, and dolphins cavorting,

while in the dim blue depths far below loomed the figure of a gigantic

whale. Elena and Bonnie hurried quickly over this portion of the path.

It was clear that the owner of this estate could afford any kind of

extravaganza her heart desired, and that above all things what she

enjoyed the chiefest was music, for in each area, splendidly—sometimes

bizarrely—dressed orchestra were playing, or there might be only one

famous soloist, singing from a high gilded cage perhaps twenty-five feet

above the ground.

Music…music and lights everywhere…

Elena herself, although thrilled by the sights, sounds, and glorious

scents coming from huge banks of flowers as well as from the guests,

both male and female, felt a slight fear like a small rock in her stomach.

She had thought her dress and diamonds so elaborate when she had left

Lady Ulma’s estate. But now that she was here at Lady Fazina’s…well,

there were too many rooms, too many people, as fancifully and finely

clad as herself and her sister “personal assistants.” She was afraid

that—well, that that woman over there, dripping jewels from her delicate

three-tier diamond and emerald tiara to her delicate diamond-circled

toes, made her own unadorned hair look dowdy or laughable, at such a

grand affair.

Do you know how old she is? Elena almost jumped to hear

Damon’s voice in her head.

Who? Elena replied, trying at least to keep her envy—her

worry—out of her telepathic voice. And am I projecting that loudly? she

added in alarm.

Not all that loudly, but it never hurts to tune it down. And you

know perfectly well “who”: that giraffe you were eyeing, Damon

replied. For your information, she’s about two hundred years older than

I am, and she’s trying to look around thirty, which is ten years younger

than when she became a vampire.

Elena blinked. What are you trying to say?

Send some Power to your ears, Damon suggested. And stop

worrying!

Elena obediently increased slightly the Power to what she still

thought of as her burst ear nodes, and conversations suddenly became

audible all around her.

… oh, the goddess in white. She’s just a child, but what a figure…

… yes, the one with the golden hair. Magnificent, isn’t she?…Oh,

by Hades, look at that girl……Did you see the prince and princess over

there? I wonder if they’d swap…or—or—do a quartet, dear?

This was more like what Elena was used to hearing at parties. It

gave her more confidence. It also, as she allowed her eyes to sweep

more boldly across the opulently costumed crowed, caused her to feel a

sudden surge of love and respect for Lady Ulma, who had designed and

overseen the construction of three glorious dresses in only a week.

She’s a genius, Elena informed Damon solemnly, knowing that

through their mindlink he would see who she meant. Look, Meredith

already has a crowd around her. And…and…

And she’s not acting much like Meredith at all, Damon finished,

sounding slightly uneasy.

Meredith didn’t seem uneasy in the least. She had her face turned

deliberately to show off a classical profile to her admirers, but it wasn’t

the profile of level-headed, serene Meredith Sulez at all. It was a sultry,

exotic girl, who looked as if she might very well be able to sing the

Habanera from Carmen. She had her fan open and was gracefully,

languorously fanning herself. The soft but warm indoor lighting made

her bare shoulders and arms gleam like pearl above the black velvet

dress, which seemed even more mysterious and striking than it had back

at home. In fact, it seemed to have stricken one devotee to the heart

already; he was kneeling before her with a red rose in his hand, so

hastily picked from one of the arrangements that a thorn had pricked him

and blood welled from his thumb. Meredith didn’t seem to have noticed.

Both Elena and Damon felt for the young man, who was blond and

extremely handsome. Elena felt sorry…and Damon felt hungry.

She certainly seems to have come out of her shell, ventured

Damon.

Oh, Meredith doesn’t ever really come out, Elena replied. It’s all

playacting. But tonight I think it’s the dresses that are doing it. Meredith

is dressed like a siren, and so she’s acting all sultry. Bonnie’s dressed

like a peacock and…look.

She nodded down the long hallway that led to a huge room in front

of them. Bonnie, dressed in what looked like real peacock feathers, had a

crowd of her own followers—and that was just what they were doing:

following. Bonnie’s every movement was light and birdlike and her jade

bracelets clinked together on her small rounded arms, her earrings

chimed with each toss of her head, and her feet seemed to twinkle in

golden sandals in front of her peacock train.

“You know, it’s strange,” Elena murmured, as they reached the

large room and at last sound was muted so she could hear Damon’s

physical voice. “I didn’t realize it, but Lady Ulma designed our dresses

at different levels of the animal world.”

“Hm?” Damon was looking at her throat again. But fortunately at

that moment a handsome man dressed in formal Earth clothes—tuxedo,

cummerbund, and so on—came by with Black Magic in large silver

goblets. Damon drained his in one gulp and took another from the

gracefully bowing waiter. Then he and Elena took seats—on the outside

of the back row, even if this was a rudeness to their hostess. They

needed to be free to maneuver.

“Well, Meredith is a mermaid, which is the highest order, and

she’s acting like a siren. Bonnie is a bird, so that’s the next highest

order, and she is acting like a bird: watching all the boys display

themselves while she keeps laughing. And I’m a butterfly—so I suppose

I’ll be a social butterfly tonight. With you beside me, I hope.”

“How…cute,” Damon said heavily. “But what exactly makes you

think you’re supposed to be a butterfly?”

“Well, the designs, silly,” Elena said, and she lifted her

mother-of-pearl and gold and diamond fan and gave him a tiny butterfly

rap on the forehead with it. Then she opened it to show him a masterly

sketch of the same design as her necklace on its front, decorated with

tiny dots of diamond, gold, and mother-of-pearl where they would not be

harmed by the folds.

“You see? A butterfly,” she said, not displeased with the image.

Damon traced the outline with one long, tapering finger that

reminded her so much of Stefan’s that it hurt her throat, and stopped at

six stylized lines above the head. “Since when do butterflies have hair?”

His finger moved to two horizontal lines between the wings. “Or arms?”

“Those are legs,” Elena told him, amused. “What kind of thing

with arms and legs and a head has six hairs and wings?”

“A tipsy vampire,” suggested a voice above them and Elena looked

up, surprised to see Sage. “May I sit with you?” he asked. “I couldn’t

manage a shirt, but my fairy godmother did conjure up a vest.”

Elena, laughing, scooted over a seat so that he could take the aisle

seat by Damon. He was much cleaner than when she had last seen him

working around the house, although his hair was still in long wild unruly

curls. She noted however, that his fairy godmother had scented him with

cedar and sandalwood, and provided him with Dolce & Gabbana jeans

and vest. He looked… magnifique. There was no sign of his animals.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Elena said to him.

“You can say that? Garbed as you are in celestial white and gold?

You mentioned the gala; I took your wish as a command.”

Elena giggled. Of course, everyone was treating her differently

tonight. It was the dress. Sage, murmuring something about his latent

heterosexuality, swore that the image on her necklace and fan was a

phoenix. The very polite demon on her right, who had deep mauve skin

and small, curling white horns, deferentially submitted that it looked to

him like the goddess Ishtar, who had apparently sent him to the Dark

Dimension a few millennia ago for tempting people to sloth. Elena made

a mental note to ask Meredith whether this meant tempting them to eat

sloths, which she knew were some kind of wild animal that didn’t move

around much, or something else.

Then Elena thought that Lady Ulma had called the dress a

“goddess dress,” hadn’t she? It was certainly a dress you could only

wear if your body was very young and very close to perfection, because

there was no way to fit corsetry into it or even to drape it to minimize an

unflattering feature. The only things under the dress were Elena’s own

firm young physique and a pair of scant, soft flesh-colored lace

underwear. Oh, and a spray of jasmine perfume.

So it’s a goddess I feel like, she thought, thanking the demon (who

stood and bowed). People were taking their seats for the Silver

Nightingale’s first performance. Elena had to admit to a longing to see

Lady Fazina, and besides, it was too early to try for a restroom

trip—Elena had already noticed that guards were posted at all the doors.

There were two harps on a dais in the middle of a great circle of

chairs. And then suddenly everyone was on their feet and clapping, and

Elena would have seen nothing, if the Lady Fazina had not chosen to

walk down the same aisle Elena and Damon had taken. As it was, she

paused right beside Sage to acknowledge the roar of acclamation, and

Elena had a perfect view of her.

She was a lovely young woman, who to Elena’s surprise looked

hardly older than twenty, and was nearly as small as Bonnie. This

diminutive creature obviously took her sobriquet very seriously: she was

dressed entirely in a gown of silver mesh. Her hair was metallic silver,

too, swept high in front and very short in back. Her train was barely

attached to her, by two simple clasps at the shoulders. It floated

horizontally behind her, constantly in motion, more like a moonbeam or

a cloud than like real material until she got to the central dais and

ascended it, then walked once around the tall uncovered harp, at which

point the suspended part of the cape fell softly and gracefully to the floor

in a semicircle around her.

And then came the magic of the Silver Nightingale’s voice. She

began by playing the tall harp, which seemed even taller in comparison

to her small body. She could make the harp sing under her fingers, coax

it to cry like the wind or make music that seemed to descend from

heaven in glissandos. Elena wept throughout her first song, even though

it was sung in some foreign language. It was so piercingly sweet that it

reminded Elena of Stefan, of the times they had been together,

communicating by only the softest words and touches…

But Lady Fazina’s most impressive instrument was her voice. Her

tiny body could generate an extraordinary volume when she wanted it to.

And as she sang one poignant, minor-tuned song after another, Elena

could feel her skin break out into gooseflesh, and a trembling in her legs.

She felt that at any moment she might fall to her knees as the melodies

filled her heart.

When someone touched her from behind, Elena started violently,

brought back too quickly from the fantasy world the music had woven

around her. But it was only Meredith, who despite her own love for

music had a very practical suggestion for their group.

“I was going to say, why not start now, while everyone else is

listening?” she whispered. “Even the guards are out of it. We agreed on

two by two, yes?”

Elena nodded. “We’re just having a look around the house. We

may even find something while everyone is still here, listening, for

nearly another hour. Sage, maybe you could sort of liaise between the

two groups, telepathically.”

“It would be my privilege, Madame. ”

The five of them set out into the Silver Nightingale’s mansion.

T hey walked right by the weeping door-guards. But very quickly, they

discovered that while almost everyone was listening to Lady Fazina, in

each room of the palace that was open to the public, a black-clad,

white-gloved steward awaited, ready to give out information, and to

keep a watchful eye on his lady’s possessions.

The first room that gave them any kind of hope was Lady Fazina’s

Hall of Harpery, a room devoted entirely to the display of harps, from

ancient, bowlike, single-stringed instruments, undoubtedly played by

individuals who were similar to cavedwellers, to tall, gilded, orchestral

harps like the one Fazina was now playing, the music audible throughout

the palace. Magic, Elena thought again. They seem to use it here instead

of technology.

“Each kind of harp has a unique key to tune the strings,” Meredith

whispered, looking down the length of the hall. On each side the line of

harps marched into the distance. “One of those keys might be the key.”

“But how will we even know?” Bonnie was fanning herself lightly

with her peacock feather fan. “What’s the difference between a harp key

and the fox key?”

“I don’t know. And I’ve never heard of a key being kept in a harp,

either. It would rattle around the sound box every time the harp shifted

slightly,” Meredith admitted.

Elena bit her lip. It was such a simple, reasonable question. She

should feel dismayed, should be wondering how they could ever find

one small half of a key in this place. Especially considering that the clue

they had—that it was in the Silver Nightingale’s instrument, suddenly

seemed absurd.

“I don’t suppose,” Bonnie said a little giddily, “that the instrument

is her voice, and that if we reach down her throat…”

Elena turned to look at Meredith, who was looking

heavenward—or at whatever was above this hideous dimension. “I

know,” Meredith said. “No more drinks for birdbrain here. Although I

suppose it’s possible that they give out little silver whistles or

instruments as favors—all big parties used to do that, you know—give

you a gift.”

“How,” Damon said in a carefully expressionless tone, “would

they possibly get the key into a favor for a party being given at least

weeks away, and how could they ever hope to retrieve it? Misao might

as well have told Elena, ‘We threw the key away.’”

“Well,” began Meredith, “I’m not at all sure that they did mean for

the keys to be retrievable, even by them. And Misao could have meant

‘You’d have to search all the garbage from the night of this gala’—or

some other party Fazina performed at. I imagine she gets asked to play

at a lot of other people’s parties, too.”

Elena hated bickering, even though she was a champion bickerer

herself. But she was a goddess tonight. Nothing was impossible. If only

she could remember…

Something like white lightning struck her brain.

For just an instant—one instant—she was back, struggling with

Misao. Misao was in her fox form, biting and scratching—and snarling

out a reply to Elena’s question about where the two halves of the fox key

were. “As if you would understand the answers I could give. If I told you

that one was inside the silver nightingale’s instrument, would that give

you any kind of idea?”

Yes. Those had been the exact words, the real words that Misao

had spoken. Elena heard her own voice, repeating the words distinctly

now.

And then she felt something like an arc of lightning leave her

mind—only to meet another’s not far away. The next thing she knew her

eyes were flying open in surprise because Bonnie was speaking in that

blank toneless way she always did when making a prophecy:

“Each half of the fox key is shaped like a single fox, with two ears,

two eyes, and a snout. The two fox key halves are gold and covered with

gems—and their eyes are green. The key you seek is yet in the Silver

Nightingale’s instrument.”

“Bonnie!” Elena said. She could see that Bonnie’s knees were

trembling, her eyes unfocused. Then they opened and Elena watched as

confusion surged in to fill the blankness.

“What’s going on?” Bonnie said, looking around to see everyone

looking at her. “What—what happened?”

“You told us what the fox keys look like!” Elena couldn’t help this

exclamation—almost a shout of joy. Now that they knew what they were

looking for they could free Stefan; they would free Stefan. Nothing

would stop Elena now. Bonnie had just helped move this quest to an

entirely different level.

But while she was quaking inside with joy at the prophecy,

Meredith, in her own level-headed way, was taking care of the prophet.

Meredith said quietly, “She’s probably going to faint. Would you

please…”

Meredith didn’t have to ask further, for the vampires, Damon and

Sage, were each quick enough to catch and support Bonnie on opposite

sides. Damon was staring down at the diminutive girl in surprise.

“Thanks, Meredith,” Bonnie said, and let out a breath, blinking. “I

don’t think I’ll faint,” she added, and then with a glance up at Damon

through her lashes, “But it’s probably just as well to make sure.”

Damon nodded and got a better grip, looking serious. Sage turned

half away, seeming to have something stuck in his throat.

“What did I say? I don’t remember!”

And after Elena had solemnly repeated Bonnie’s words it was just

like Meredith to say, “You’re sure now, Bonnie? Does that sound right?”

“ I’m sure. I’m positive,” Elena cut in. She was positive. The

Goddess Ishtar and Bonnie had unlocked the past for her and shown her

the key.

“All right. What if Bonnie and Sage and I take this room, and two

of us can be distracting the steward, while the third looks in the harps for

keys?” Meredith suggested.

“Right. Let’s do it!” Elena said.

Meredith’s plan proved to be more difficult in practice than it

sounded. Even with two glorious young girls in the room and one

terminally fit guy, the steward kept spinning in little circles and catching

one or another of them handling and peering into a harp.

Naturally, the handling was strictly forbidden. It put the harps

further out of tune and it could easily damage them, especially since the

only way to make absolutely sure that a small golden key was not in a

harp’s sound box was to actually shake the harp and listen for rattling.

Worse, each of the harps was displayed in its own little nook,

complete with dramatic lighting, a flamboyant painted screen behind it

(most of them portraits of Fazina playing the harp in question), and a

plush red rope across the front of the nook that said “Keep Out” as

plainly as a sign.

In the end Bonnie, Meredith, and Sage resorted to having Sage

Influence the steward to be entirely passive—something he was only

able to do for a few minutes of time, or the steward would notice the

gaps in Lady Fazina’s program. They would then each frantically search

harps while the steward stood like a wax figure.

Meanwhile Damon and Elena were wandering the palace, looking

through the rest of the mansion that was off-limits to visitors. If they

found nothing, they intended to search the more available rooms as the

gala continued.

It was dangerous work, this stealing in and out of darkened,

cordoned-off—often locked—empty rooms: dangerous and strangely

thrilling to Elena. Somehow, it seemed that fear and passion were more

closely related than she had fully realized. Or at least, it seemed that way

with her and Damon.

Elena couldn’t help noticing and admiring little things about him.

He seemed to be able to pick any lock with a single little implement he

produced from inside his black jacket, the way other people produce

fountain pens, and he had such a swift, graceful way of taking the pick

out and putting it back in. Economy of motion, she knew, earned by

living for around five centuries.

Also, no one could argue it: Damon seemed to keep his head in any

situation, which made them a good pair right now when she was striding

around like a goddess who could not be bound by the rules of mortals.

This was even enhanced by the scares she got: shapes that looked like

guards or sentries looming up at her turned out to be a stuffed bear, a

slim cupboard, and something Damon didn’t allow her more than a

glimpse of, but what looked like a mummified human. Damon wasn’t

fazed by any of them.

If I could just channel some more Power to my eyes, Elena

thought, and things immediately brightened up. Her Power was obeying

her!

God! I’ll have to wear this dress for the rest of my life: it makes

me feel so…powerful. So…unashamed. I’ll have to wear it to college, if

I ever get to college, to impress my professors; and to Stefan’s and my

wedding—just so people understand I’m not a slut; and—to the beach,

just to give the guys something to ogle…

She stifled a giggle and was surprised to see Damon glance with

mock reproach at her. Of course, he was as closely focused on her as she

was on him. But it was a slightly different case, of course, because, to

his eyes, she wore a big label with STRAWBERRY JAM written on it,

tied around her neck. And he was getting hungry again. Very hungry.

Next time I’m going to see that you eat properly before you go out,

she thought at him.

Let’s worry about succeeding this time before we start planning for

next time, he returned, with just the faintest firefly hint of his

250-kilowatt smile.

But it was all mixed in, of course, with a little of the sardonic

triumph that Damon always carried with him. Elena swore to herself that

laugh at her as he might, beg her as he might, threaten or cajole as he

might, she wouldn’t give Damon the satisfaction of even one nip tonight.

He could just pop the top off another jam pot, she thought.

Eventually, the sweet music of the concert was stilled and Elena

and Damon dashed back to meet with Bonnie, Meredith, and Sage in the

Harpery Hall. Elena could have guessed the news by Bonnie’s stance,

even if she hadn’t already known from Sage’s silence. But the news was

worse than Elena could have imagined: not only had the three found

nothing in the Harpery Hall, but they had finally resorted to quizzing the

steward, who could speak, if not move, under Sage’s Influence.

“And guess what he told us,” Bonnie said, and added before

anyone could venture a word, “Those harps are each cleaned and tuned

every single day. Fazina has, like, a whole army of servants for them.

And anything, anything that didn’t belong to a harp would be reported at

once. And nothing has been! It just isn’t there!”

Elena felt herself shrink from omniscient goddess to baffled

human. “I was worried it would be like this,” she admitted, sighing. “It

would have been just too easy the other way. All right, Plan B. You

mingle with the gala guests, trying to get a look at each room that’s open

to the public. Try to dazzle Fazina’s consort and pump him for

information. See if Misao and Shinichi have been here recently. Damon

and I will keep looking in the rooms that are supposed to be closed off.”

“That’s so dangerous,” Meredith said, frowning. “I’m afraid of

what the penalty might be if you’re caught.”

“I’m afraid of what the penalty might be to Stefan if we don’t find

this key tonight,” Elena retorted shortly, and turned on her heel, leaving.

Damon followed her. They searched endless darkened rooms, now

not even knowing whether they were looking for a harp or something

else. First Damon would check if there were a breathing body inside the

room (there might be a vampire guard, of course, but there wasn’t much

to do about that), then he picked the lock. Things were working

seamlessly until they reached a room at the end of a long hall facing

west—Elena had long since gotten lost in the palace, but she could

unerringly tell west, because it was where the bloated sun hung.

Damon had picked the lock of this room and Elena had originally

started forward eagerly. She searched the room, which contained,

frustratingly, a silver-framed picture of a harp, but with nothing as bulky

as the half of the fox key inside it, even when she had carefully used

Damon’s lock pick to unscrew the backing.

It was while she was placing this picture back on the wall that they

both heard the thump. Elena winced, praying that none of the

black-suited “security servants” who roamed the palace had heard the

noise.

Damon quickly put a hand over her mouth and dialed the gaslight

knob into darkness.

But they both could hear it now…footsteps approaching from

outside in the hallway. Someone had heard the thump. The footsteps

stopped outside the door and there was the distinct sound of an upper

servant’s discreet cough.

Elena whirled, feeling in that moment as if Wings of Redemption

were within her reach. It would only require the slightest rise in

adrenaline and she would have the security worker on his or her knees,

sobbing in the penitence of a lifetime’s work at evil. Elena and Damon

would be gone before—

But Damon had another idea, and Elena was startled into going

along with it.

When the door opened silently a moment later, the steward found a

couple locked in such a tight embrace that they seemed not even to

notice the intrusion. Elena could practically feel his indignation. The

desire of a couple of guests to discreetly embrace in the privacy of Lady

Fazina’s many public rooms was understandable, but this was part of the

private household. As he turned the lights up, Elena peeked at him out of