The Shades of Time by Diane Nelson

in dismay as he realized she'd slipped away.
    "Veluria? Wh—?"
Stefano choked on rising bile as he desperately searched the jammed
room.
    Tonio grabbed
his brother's arm with a death grip. "I told you, imbecile!" His
eyes flashed with naked fury. "Go find her. I'll alert my men in
case she tries to escape."
    Stefano
silently cursed himself for his mishandling of their simple
mission. He plowed into the middle of the swirling sea of
partiers.
    "Red and black
mask," he muttered," I'm looking for a red and black mask." A
server pressed a wine goblet into his hand as he carved a torturous
path through the crush of bodies. He downed that goblet, then
another, while scanning the room through the smoky haze. The heat
and wine—combined with the prospect of facing his brother with yet
another of his failures—gave him a splitting headache. Feeling
woozy, he backed against a wall and clenched his fists in despair,
swaying unsteadily.
    The orchestra
paused to polite applause as a petite frame brushed against his
hip. Her silvery-white mask glimmered in the pale light, the upper
edges adorned with extravagant ostrich plumes. It hid her entire
face with sculpted alabaster cheeks and full ruby lips, the eye
slits revealing nothing. She moved temptingly close to him, slowly
backing him up to a wall until she had him pinned, pressing hard
against his groin. He moaned with anticipation but hesitated. The
mask was different though this vixen was the same height, the gown
similar … but not. He tried to focus on a familiar floral fragrance
from the vixen's hair.
    Bemused,
curious, Stefano pulled the woman closer until he could fondle the
edge of the mask. The woman dodged away with a giggle. She
sauntered to an alcove, dimly lit, and paused as if waiting for
something … or someone. He followed close behind, still unsure.
There were highborn families amongst the throng and he dare not
make an error that would compound the mess he'd already made of the
evening. With a flourish the woman released the mask's binding,
then turned and grinned devilishly, her sea-green eyes crinkled in
mirth.
    Stefano
sputtered, "But you aren't…"
    He found it
difficult to focus on the woman's features, so similar to Veluria's
that if he tilted his head just so he could convince himself it was
her.
    She giggled and
pulled him toward the rear of the building. Placing a finger to his
lips, she teased in a breathy voice, "I found a place where we can
be alone."
    That did not
seem like a good idea. But on the other hand, it wasn't a bad idea
either. He swayed, bracing his hands on the flirt's waist to keep
from falling over.
    Confused, he croaked, "But what about…?" What about what? some inner voice
whispered. Since he had no answer to that question, he allowed her
next words to over-ride his better judgment.
    "Never mind all
that. You and I have better things to do with our evening." The
woman giggled and climbed the stairs without a backward glance.
    Stefano
staggered after the woman.
     
    ****
     
    Veluria paused
at the rear entrance to the baccaro. The courtesan had done her
part well. The Sisterhood had traced her movements with their usual
precision and had anticipated such an opportunity once the
parameters became apparent. Still, she stood in awe at the speed
with which they had placed her doppelganger, the whore a most
satisfying short term solution. The probabilities calculated to a
very favorable eight-five percent success rate.
    Moving swiftly
past the cluttered tables in the servant's quarters, she took care
to leave no trace of her passage. The solid oak door stood slightly
ajar. She could hear the faint sloshing from the canal, mere meters
distant and reeking of decay, and worse.
    Silently she
gathered the remains of her gown, now devoid of several layers, as
the courtesan had cleverly removed sufficient material to refashion
a dress remarkably similar to the original. The only drawback was
the bodice—and the woman's ampler gifts—though Veluria