Sharim had said that Divines themselves wouldn't be able to change Lydia's mind.
I radically disagreed. If a mere fortune-teller managed to pull wool over Lydia's eyes, the Divines should do the job without breaking the sweat. The trick was to get them to talk to Lydia. It took some time to explain Kozima's predicament to Parneres (omitting our nocturnal assignations), my plan, and who Anastasia was.
He listened quietly, wiping away his makeup all the while. The enthusiasm I felt for the idea grew in telling, so having to squeeze in next to him, balance the bowl on my lap and dodge squirts of water didn't slow down my narrative in the slightest.
"If Lydia witnesses Divine Gala shine bliss upon someone, if she believes that the words said by him are Divine, how could she resist?" I raved. "What's some fortune teller word worth against Gala's?"
My cheeks flushed with fire when Parneres remained unaffected. Did nobody understand how perfect the plan was? "What do you think?"
I sat straight up and-- "Sorry!"
That was because I chopped the air with my hand to emphasize the point. Forgetting that I held the bowl, so I splashed about a third of its multicolored contents onto Parneres.
He took the offending vessel away from me and set it on the floor. "The young man—Kozima—is Lydia's intended. You work for her and therefore you're a suspect. Anastasia is the priestess on standby to interpret the miracle. She can't deliver it herself without being a blasphemer. Therefore, you come to me, someone who is a complete stranger to Lydia and an actor."
"Yes, and yes, and yes." I nodded vigorously.
"Let me think about it."
"Oh." I swallowed my disappointment. "Meet me tomorrow? There is this place on the docks, we'll be safer there than here."
He traced the edge of the thick roll of paper with his elegant fingers. "The day after tomorrow. I need time to read this."
Between Anastasia's prolific pen and the looming threat of Parneres' homicidal cousin, I couldn't argue with giving him an extra day.
"Explain this one thing to me," Parneres asked once he had walked me to the back door and checked around the corner. "You hate Lydia because she doesn't love the unfortunate young man enough. Yet you hate Anastasia because she loves him too much. How do you reconcile these two things?"
Out of the mouth of man! I scrunched my face thinking about it, but in the end just threw my arms up in surrender. "It's easier to kill what you hate, than to explain why you hate it."
His amused chuckle sounded in my ears all night, even when I was with Kozima.
***
The teahouse we agreed on wasn't a completely disreputable place. Just the kind where if I had enough coin and, say, Parneres would have been willing, they wouldn't have asked questions Instead, they'd offer me dining options less in public view. Alas, neither was true, so we sat in the main room, private by the virtue of no one caring to give us a second look.
The room widened, then pinched in around the pitted or knife-slashed studs left to keep the ceiling from caving in after the walls had been taken out to win more space by someone long ago. When it first had opportunistically in-filled between warehouses nobody knew or cared to record.
Everything was smoky or greasy or both. The low ceiling beams, the spared walls, the driftwood tabletops balanced on the stone anchor wheels... they probably originated in the same ancient year as the construction itself. Some of the anchors even had barnacles. The candles wept into shaved off conch-shells. The candle smoke mixed with that of Ashanti, beer and fried garlic.
After that meeting, once Parneres accepted my offer—and nothing else—it took a full ten-day more for all the stars to align for us to dupe Lydia.
Lydia had to visit with Kozima on a day when Anastasia's duties included greeting the faithful followers of Gala in the chapel. Also, Parneres had to be free and there had to have been enough time to send a message to him beforehand.
Naturally, there was no point in adding a logistical challenge of having me on hand. I went sailing on the Naiad whie the things went down. As soon as I stepped off the boat, I received a message of my allies' success. All that was left to do was to meet them later to celebrate at our favorite teahouse.
The trio, warmed up by a few cups of wine, didn't mind reenacting the whole thing for my sake.
They couldn't run around the teahouse, but they did the best they could, sitting around the table, shoving glasses and plates, talking in high, excited voices, interrupting one another to make sure no detail was skipped. Except that Parneres said he wouldn't recite the full verses, just the best lines. Kozima and I didn't argue.
Kozima walked in with the imaginary Lydia in the Chapel of Gala Who Sees the Future.
Parneres, who pretended to be Lydia, rounded his eyes and squelched his brows together in a worried expression exactly like Lydia's. I laughed and banged my beer mug on the table. I even bought a jug of wine for Anastasia's sake. What can I say? I'm a happy drunk.
Kozima walked around the chapel with Lydia. She made offerings. He stayed one respectful step behind.
Unlike Parneres, he couldn't keep himself from grinning for the sake of accuracy. His eyes danced boldly to my face and refused to leave, but I had no trouble imagining him demure and anxious. I had seen him like that for years.
Parneres stirred in the corner of the sanctuary. He laid there, prostrated before the bronze Gala with a thousand closed eyes, buffalo horns in Their hair, twelve weaving arms, twelve folded legs and twelve rows of raven wings covering their torso. In the middle of their forehead sat the famous emerald, Window into the Beyond, half-green and half-golden.
Were it me in place of Lydia, Parneres wouldn't have needed to fake Divine inspiration. All he had to do was smile, whisper a few words into my ear, and I would have never married anyone else.
Lydia was a tougher customer.
Parneres started from afar, praising Gala and the Divines, working the worshipers into a frenzy. The blood pearl glittered in his ear, the best place for it in the Knowable World. My heart bounced in time with it. He didn't convince me to return into Gala's fold, but he came as close as anyone could have. I remembered to breathe only when Anastasia piped in with a complaint that he cut out a lot of verses.
"Mistress," Parneres said with a smile that would have been self deprecating, if his lips weren't sensual, if his teeth didn't rival snow-capped mountain tops in whiteness, if his eyes didn't melt butter. "Mistress, I'm only a man with a man's imperfect memory."
Anastasia's pout disappeared into the pink simmer of her cheeks. I was luckier. On the sea, my skin added a layer of tan. It was enough to arrest the most potent blush.
Anastasia was already used to talking to the pilgrims and those who visited the temple regularly, so she was in her element. The temple was lit with votive candles, filled with the scent of weeping oil from the smoldering petals. The stage was set for Parneres' biggest scene. He divided his attention between the worshippers in the chapel and Gala's statue. To each person he approached he recited some of Anastasia's lines. The words were so obscure, that they passed for prophecies easily enough.
Finally, he came upon Lydia and Kozima, who knelt in awe before Gala. Lydia's eyes opened wide as Parneres said,
Divines' blessings are to be accepted with a grateful heart,
Blessed are the women who flower into daughters.
Blessed is the one who chooses them to her design
Do not see curses where the blessing was given...
etc, etc, etc...
Parneres didn't tarry with Lydia longer than with anyone else. He moved on to the next person, then praised Anastasia's devotion, promising her a life of spiritual clarity. Then, he returned to his corner and prostrated himself again as if lost in a prayer. If I didn't hear him praise Indara a few times, I would have thought him Gala's biggest devotee.
After a moment's pause, as everyone looked to one another with rounded eyes full of wonder, Anastasia came over to wake Parneres from his 'trance'.
He awoke and acted as if he didn't remember a thing. She whisked him away to the infirmary. Hands touched his clothes while they walked through the chapel, blessing him for the words Gala sent through him.
"And Lydia," I asked again, breathlessly, even though I already knew the answer. After all, it was the first thing I had asked. "Did Lydia understand the message?"
"She did," Kozima said, mimicking Lydia's startled expression, happy to repeat it over and over. "She shook herself up, looked at me like she had never seen me before, and rushed outside. An hour later, the Mistress of Novices regretfully informed me that Lydia withdrew her courtship."
"Ah, poor Kozima!"
He smiled at me like I was the only person in existence. "Actually, it was the nicest she'd ever treated me. She put honey in my tea to calm my nerves and asked if I wished to take a turn working in the vineyards away from the corruption of the city."
I didn't hear that part yet. My heart sank. "Did you--"
"I said 'no', and sulked."
If his eyes shone as bright as they did now, I doubted that sulk was credible. He shamed the Lodestar that night for not doing her job well enough.
Parneres cleared his throat. "That's the tale, Ismar. It's a pity to spoil such a fun party, but I must leave."
Anastasia sighed. "I'm afraid I must go too, before the Head Priestess starts looking for me."
I wanted to stay in Parneres' company for as long as possible. Kozima would have jumped into a volcano if I did. So, I paid, and we spilled out of the teahouse altogether.
The hour was later than I expected, but despite the lengthening shadows, excitement swirled down the streets. Its rogue waves grabbed the hold of us four, pulled us under, frothing over our heads with laughter and bubbly conversations.
Palmyrans put up flags and banners, replaced flowers in the window boxes, swept garbage away, pushed around overflowing baskets of food. The crowd's collective pulse raced just like mine did—and they didn't have the most beautiful man in the world next to them.
"Is there a festival tomorrow?" I asked a passerby.
Parneres replied instead, "Queen Zianida rides into town tomorrow, victorious without a single arrow fired. She brings with her two wards to brighten her Court. They are the only daughters of the would-be rebel, happily turned into her newest bosom friend."
Hostages, my mind supplied, before the tidal way of elation swept away all other thoughts. The Deadheads would be back with the Queen! Miccola promised! Finally, I'd get a fair hearing and be accepted! The joyful scenes flashed through my head, kicking my mood up another notch.
"Parneres, this is it! This is how I can—"
I didn't finish telling him this was how I was going to deliver him. He was already gone, hidden away by the bustling crowd despite his extraordinary appearance before I could share my plan to become a famous mercenary and rescue him. My other two companions still stumbled along next to me, oblivious to his absence.
Warmed up by wine, Anastasia enveloped Kozima's arm like a cloud. He gave me an unguarded look over the top of her head. He was growing bolder.
Parneres' amused voice echoed through my head, asking about Kozima and women and me.
The same smile I gave Kozima every night, right after pulling his shirt over his head, danced to my lips in response, but my heart wasn't in it.
I saved him from the clutches of a woman who didn't love him enough and her hysterical husband. The only thing I could do about the woman who loved him too much was to drive a knife through her heart. But Anastasia might have been a terrible poet, but she wasn't a monster. So that was it. Against her, Kozima would have to stand on his own.
I needed to get my wits together for the most important thing in my life. The Deadhead Company would be back in town tomorrow. Tomorrow! Finally! I sang and danced with the crowd, waving my hands, because I didn't have a banner.