Ghost Aria by Jonathan Moeller Page A

veins than anyone I have ever met.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Well, make sure Master Gallus stays away from Lucinda,” said Theodosia. “And Tollard, too.”
    Caina nodded. “Lord Arcus Hadrazon is in the audience.”
    “Keep an eye on him,” said Theodosia.
    Caina frowned. “I thought he supported the Emperor.”
    “Oh, he does,” said Theodosia. “He is, however, fairly ruthless, and usually has twenty or thirty intrigues underway at the same time. If he decides to make trouble, I want to know about it first. Now go talk to Lucinda and make a fuss about wolf fur.”
    Caina hurried back into the workshop. She wove her way through the stagehands and the chorus singers and tracked down Lucinda inside the costume room. Wooden racks stored hundreds of costumes, and a table held an array of tailors’ tools. Lucinda stood before one of the male singers, adjusting his costume. She was about twenty-five, with curly black hair and bright brown eyes, and the final month of pregnancy had not slowed her down. 
    “Do not touch those straps!” said Lucinda. “If that breastplate falls off while you are on stage, I swear I shall beat you over the head with it!”
    Pregnancy had not slowed her down, but neither had it improved her temper. 
    She was the daughter of Gallus Tomerius, one of the Imperial collegium of goldsmiths’ more prosperous merchants, and her father had tried to marry her to an impoverished noble. Apparently the noble had been so repellent that she had fled to the Grand Imperial Opera, married one of the carpenters, and now ruled the costumers with an iron fist. 
    “Go!” The singer scurried off, and Lucinda glared at Caina. “Marina? What?”
    “Theodosia wants wolf fur,” said Caina.
    “Wolf fur!” said Lucinda. “Where am I supposed to get wolf fur?”
    “Theodosia says a barbarian Caerish princess would wear wolf fur,” said Caina. 
    “Well, she can bloody well cope with deer fur,” said Lucinda. “Unless she wants to kill the wolf and skin it herself.”
    “You could do,” said Caina.
    Lucinda laughed. “I suppose I could, couldn’t I? Though I would be a sight, waddling after a wolf in this condition. Could you do me a favor?”
    Caina nodded.
    “Go find Murdock, the new footman,” said Lucinda, “and have him send some wine to Tollard. He was up all night repairing the battle set, and I know the fool man has forgotten to eat.” She smiled. “He always forgets to eat.” 
    Caina had first thought Lucinda married Tollard to spite her father, but the two seemed to love each other. She felt a stab of jealousy. Lucinda was healthy enough to bear many children, and Caina could not have even one. 
    Not after what had happened to her.
    She pushed aside the thought. It wasn’t Lucinda’s fault, and she wasn’t sure what Lucinda saw in Tollard. But they were happy together.
    “I will,” said Caina. 
    “Thank you,” said Lucinda. She smiled once more and began bellowing at the chorus singers. 
    Caina nodded and went about her business. 

    ###

    Theodosia’s voice filled the Grand Imperial Opera. She stood on stage, singing an elaborate aria in High Nighmarian as she agonized between making war on the Empire and her love for the Emperor. 
    The audience sat and listened to her. The wealthy nobles and merchants occupied the boxes ringing the balconies over the stage. Poorer nobles used the higher balconies, while commoners sat on the floor before the stage itself. 
    Caina hurried through the aisles between the boxes, carrying a tray of wine and sausages. The other maids did the same, while footmen stood ready in the entrances. Caina listened as the nobles and merchants spoke in low voices. One merchant plotted to undercut his rivals. Another offered a bribe to the magistrate who managed the harbor’s customs inspectors. 
    Theodosia would find that interesting.
    Caina passed Lord Arcus Hadrazon’s box. Lord Arcus was a lean man in his middle thirties, cool and arrogant. A