Leadora’s gaze sharpened as it fell back on Karigan. “G’lad-hee-on? Of the cloth?”

“Er, yes,” Karigan replied.

Leadora clapped her hands together. “Very good cloth. Very fine quality.” Then she waggled her finger at Karigan. “But very expensive! Too expensive for stingy troupe manager.”

“Leadora,” Tegan said, “why are you up here? It’s nicer, but why have you moved?”

Leadora put her hand to her hair as if to claw at it, her expression one of misery. Karigan began to wonder if the troupe’s acting occurred only on stage.

“Most terrible!” Leadora cried. “It was a flood.”

“What flood?”

“That terrible, terrible cellar we worked in. It leaked. The snow, the rain, the freeze, the melt. One morning I come in and our shop, it is full of water. We move into this nicer place, eh? Was shop and storage for another tenant—cabinet maker, but he move.” Then Leadora scrunched her face. “He leave all his sawdust and wood chips. We must sweep and sweep.” Then she sighed. “So now we are much busier. Most all our cloth and costumes wrecked by flood. Gone! Worthless, destroyed.”

“Uh-oh,” Tegan said.

“Yes. Is very bad. We try to make new for the next production. We must make everything from—how do you say?—from scratch. The girls work very hard now.”

“So much for that idea,” Tegan muttered.

“Idea? What is this?”

“Well,” Tegan said, “Karigan here is in need of a costume for the king’s masquerade ball tonight, and seeing as you owe me a favor, I thought you could maybe help out.”

“Oh my dear Tee-gon!” Leadora started pacing about spouting a stream of incomprehensible words.

“Where is she from?” Mara whispered.

“I’m not actually sure,” Tegan said. “But I kind of suspect she’s from right here in the city.”

Karigan and Mara both stared at her.

“She’s a brilliant seamstress sure enough, but the rest?” Tegan shrugged.

“Aha!” Leadora’s exclamation made them jump. She tapped her measuring stick on the floor. “I may be able to help. Then debt repaid, eh?”

“If you can supply Karigan with a proper costume,” Tegan said, “yes, it is.”

Leadora smiled.

MAD QUEEN ODDACIOUS

Upon their return to the castle, Tegan took charge of Karigan’s preparations for the masquerade ball.

“I will not wear the wig,” Karigan said.

“But it’s part of the character,” Tegan replied. “And I think black hair will suit you. Besides, the crown won’t fit without it. At least give it a go, and maybe try being a little less grumpy about it.”

“You’d be grumpy if you had to wear this ridiculous thing.”

She gazed down at the dress with its garish red and white diamond pattern, highlighted with silvery threads. At the bottom of the skirts among the frills were sewn the images of playful cats. On her left sleeve was a great big velvet heart. Panniers made her hips jut out in a style not seen in several generations. The material was a poor quality of satin that appalled the textile merchant in her. It undoubtedly shone well enough in the stage lights and likely satisfied the troupe manager’s stingy wallet, but closer inspection clearly revealed its inferiority.

She just knew that, in contrast, the nobles in attendance would be wearing nothing but the most elegant styles, their costumes constructed from only the finest materials. None of them would deign to wear so clownish a costume as this.

If the garishness of her costume was not enough, it smelled of mildew and there was some yellow staining located in an embarrassing spot on her backside. It had not, evidently, entirely escaped the flooding. Leadora supplied a train that she hoped would conceal the stain.

The costume had been created for a person much larger than Karigan—the role was often, though not always, played by a man—so Leadora, wielding her measuring stick like a field commander, marshaled her seamstresses to alter the costume and make it fit. Karigan had feared being stuck to death by dozens of sewing needles flying about her, but she needn’t have worried. The girls had known exactly what they were doing and were accustomed to working rapidly and precisely. She had not been pricked even once, and thanks to their expertise, the costume fit very well. That was something, anyway.

Tegan had found a large mirror in which Karigan could get a better view of herself than in her own little hand mirror, and set it on her desk. Karigan frowned at her reflection as Tegan lowered the wig onto her head. It was a very large horsehair affair, ludicrously tall with lots of curls. Tegan then proceeded to tuck Karigan’s own brown locks beneath the wig. When that was accomplished, she placed the crown atop the wig and pinned it into place.

Some crown, Karigan thought, her mood growing darker by the moment. Little bells hung from the points of the crown like a jester’s cap. The slightest movement made them jingle.

“That about does it, Your Highness,” Tegan said. “When we get to the ballroom, I’ll help you with the mask.”

The mask lay on Karigan’s desk. Since the costume’s character did not wear a mask on stage, Leadora had to improvise. She found a plain black half-mask and directed Nina to glue red sequins and feathers on it.

Karigan could not help but wonder what the Weapons would make of her getup. Undoubtedly there would be more than a few on duty guarding the king and Lady Estora. They’d probably find her appearance undignified in the extreme and regret having made her an honorary member of their order. Maybe they’d ask her to return the bonewood staff.