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For a moment, no one spoke. There were a few obvious choices—though any one of the performers could stab someone.
“You believe Jian did this?” Thomas dragged his attention away from the severed limb. “A wonder it didn’t make it as part of the stage act. Tossing melons, pineapples, severed arms. Seems quite fitting for the other theatrical murders.”
“I believe he’s someone we should at least consider,” I said, ignoring his forced light commentary. “We also need to thoroughly research who else has access to his blades once the show is over. Does he lock them in a trunk at night, or sleep on them?” I lifted a shoulder. “If they’re locked away, then we could expand the search to those who are gifted with picking locks.”
I met both Uncle’s and Thomas’s gazes, seeing their worry mixed with my own. It was all speculation, of course, but if those swords were locked up, then there was only one young man on this ship who’d crowned himself king of escaping any cuff and picking any lock.
I ignored the scuttle of fear as it moved across my spine. If Harry Houdini kept reinventing himself, wearing new invisible masks in each city, I supposed it was possible that he wore the most convincing disguise of all: an innocent man, incapable of committing such heinous acts of murder. Maybe Cassie and her husband weren’t exacting revenge. Perhaps it had been someone obvious yet not. If Houdini had a secret lover in America Liza didn’t know of, there was no telling how many other secrets he had.
“Let’s go make some inquiries,” Thomas said, closing his notebook. “We’ll start with Mephistopheles and Jian.”
“If we march into the performers’ practice area now, demanding to question everyone, we’re going to be met with a wall as dense as London fog,” I said.
“What method do you suggest, then?” Uncle asked. He’d not seen the growth I’d undergone while studying at the academy until this moment. I felt much more confident in exerting my hypothesis, less worried about being wrong or mocked if I was. Thomas had once told me he wasn’t afraid of being proven wrong; he only feared not trying.
“We will simply need to craft illusions of our own,” I said, already well into my own deceit act. “We’ll use misdirection with our inquiries. Let them be suspicious of something unrelated. If they make their livings using that art form, there’s no reason why we can’t use that very method ourselves.”
A slow, wicked grin lifted the edges of Thomas’s mouth. “If they’re the Moonlight Carnival, we ought to come up with our own fancy name. Marauders of Truth. Maidens of Mischief. Well,” he amended, taking in my uncle’s heavy sigh, “that doesn’t necessarily apply to all of us. I’ll keep thinking up names.”
“While you occupy yourself with that monumentally important task,” I said, “Liza invited Anishaa for tea in the morning. I’ll see what I can uncover about her and anyone who might be a secret swordsman.” I chanced a look at my uncle and smiled. ?
?Let’s plan on going over our findings before supper tomorrow.”
Thomas pulled his pocket watch out, clicking it open with a grand flourish. “That gives us thirteen hours to sleep, infiltrate their ranks, create a bit of smoke to distract them, come up with our group name, and be dressed in our supper best.” He ran a hand through his carefully styled brown locks. “Thank goodness it doesn’t take much to make this”—he swept his arm across his person—“blindingly handsome. Unlike Mephistopheles.”
“Seems the two of you learned extra skills while at the academy.” Uncle took the limb on its tray and placed it in a refrigerated box loaned to us by the captain. “Though I’m not sure how sarcasm and banter will benefit this case. We need to focus on identifying who this limb belongs to.”
“It’s called charm, Professor. And I do believe it’ll get us far.” Thomas inhaled deeply, eyes dancing with mirth. “No one can resist a well-timed quip.”
Uncle turned from the refrigerated box, looking less than amused. “Both of you are dismissed. Go to bed, then enchant or annoy information out of the carnival performers in the morning.” He waved off Thomas’s next remark. “Try not to aggravate any of them too much. A little of your charm goes a long way.”
No one told me to be careful, which I took as a positive sign. An idea was forming that I wasn’t sure either of them would like, but it was always preferable to beg for forgiveness after the fact than ask for permission beforehand. I just hoped Thomas wouldn’t be too upset about me doing this next act on my own.
Morning arrived much sooner than night had left, and I awoke to the sound of knocking at my door. I scrubbed at my face and found a tarot card stuck to my cheek. I must have fallen asleep on the deck. Liza rolled her eyes, but said nothing as she shoved me toward my trunk.
“One moment!” she called out, purchasing a bit of time for me to get ready.
I cursed in the most impolite of ways, running around to pull on a decent yet simple receiving dress. A few minutes later my cousin opened the door with a grand flourish.
“I’d like to introduce Anishaa, also known as the Ace of Wands,” Liza said graciously. “This is my cousin Audrey Rose.”
We curtsied to each other and arranged ourselves on chairs and stools while a maid entered and set down a samovar and tray filled with breakfast sweets. I filled my cup, wincing as the first sip scorched my tongue. I peeked over at Liza. Of course, being the perennial hostess, she’d been up early, calling for refreshments. I could embrace her for her attention to detail in times like this.
Anishaa, the fire-swallowing goddess, was nearly unrecognizable out of her ice-inspired costume. Instead of the thickly braided silver wig, her hair was chin-length bluish black that hung in a smooth sheet. Her skin, now that it wasn’t painted ice-blue white, was a shade between golden brown and fawn.
She gave up trying to balance her teacup on her lap and sat cross-legged on the floor where Liza was already seated. I watched, wide-eyed, as she sipped the same tea that had scalded my tongue, and offered an amused grin. “After swallowing fire every night, tea never seems as hot,” she said with a wink.
At my unladylike snicker, Liza lovingly smiled before sipping from her own cup. Not wanting to be rude, I joined them on the thick carpet.
“I dare say that’s true.” I set my teacup and saucer down, watching the steam rise like a snake striking the air. “How did you first start eating flames? I cannot imagine attempting it for the first time. You’re very brave.”
“Most would say very foolish,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
I offered my most innocent, benign expression. Liza huffed in exasperation, but didn’t chide me for my inquisitiveness as her mother would have done. She was well versed in sensing a scheme and knew I was up to something. Instead of commenting, she passed a tray of biscuits around, probably hoping the sweets would distract from my social awkwardness.
Anishaa snatched a biscuit, eyeing up bits of chocolate before responding to my question. “A pair of wonder-workers, fakirs, taught me how to swallow flames. They said my name—which roughly means ‘one whose life knows no darkness’—meant I was born to wield fire.” She snorted. “Flames were mine to command. To swallow whole.” She lifted her tea back up, taking a long pull. “I was very young and very impressionable when they first lured me away from my home, fooled by the promise of riches. I am embarrassed that I fell for their sweet words. Once I agreed to leave, they dropped me off, took their coin, and left to find another person for another carnival.”
“They were the ones who ought to be ashamed. You did nothing wrong.” Liza reached over and clutched the girl’s hand, reminding me how talented she was at sensing what people needed and innately offering support.
