So people pushed, shoved, and elbowed one another out of the way to win their moment in front of the cameras, saying frantically witty things to the increasingly shell-shocked interviewers. After all, everyone in the Empire was watching, and everyone who even thought they might be anyone had fought and intrigued and prostituted themselves dreadfully for an invitation to the wedding of the century. Luckily, that hadn't been as hard as it might have been, because so many of the old movers and shakers were dead and gone. In fact, it was hard for the guests and the viewers not to feel the presence of many famous ghosts; people who should have been present on such an important day in the Empire's history.
Crawford Campbell, father of Finlay, murdered by Jacob Wolfe, who was in turn murdered by his own son Valentine. Roderik SummerIsle, wise old hero of the Empire, murdered by his own grandson, Kid Death. Gregor Shreck, even, though no one really missed his presence. The legendary Giles Deathstalker, founder of his Clan, murdered in the end by his own descendant Owen. Who was also gone, along with his fearsome companion Hazel d'Ark. So many Families contained the seeds of their own destruction. And, of course, the Iron Bitch herself, Empress Lionstone XIV. So many great figures, heroes and villains and everything in between. Larger than life… but all gone now. And the Empire seemed such a smaller place without them.
But they were the past, and this was a day for celebrating the future. No one mentioned the old names aloud, for fear of seeming out of touch with the current realities.
Chantelle was soon back, organizing people and schedules with equal implacable vigor. The multitude of guests varied between being openly impressed and utterly appalled, as Chantelle bullied people about with no regard as to whether they were servants or celebrities. She circulated at great speed among the uneasy guests, favoring some with a quick peck on the cheek, or by generously remembering their first names in front of the cameras, while others received only biting put-downs or were damned with the very faintest of praises. Some Chantelle cut dead entirely, stalking right past them with her nose firmly in the air, right in front of the cameras, and for those people the shame was almost too much to bear. They retreated to the fringes of the crowd, well away from the cameras and interviewers, to weep bitter tears and plan future revenges. Chantelle allowed herself just a few appearances with some of the more important interviewers, where she was immediately humble, self-effacing, and just delighted to be able to do her small bit to make this very special day a success. She was beautiful and charming, and the huge watching audience ate it all up with spoons. Unheard in the background was a mass grinding of teeth as all the other celebrities hated her silently. Chantelle smiled victoriously upon them all.
Back on the floor of the House, Toby Shreck and his cameraman Flynn moved purposefully among the chaos, getting it all on film. Toby should have been up in the director's gallery on the next floor, watching over the dozen cameramen under his command, and following their incoming footage on the banks of monitors provided, but he hadn't been able to resist coming down onto the floor himself, just to feel the atmosphere in person. Flynn understood. Imperial News had put Toby in charge of their entire exclusive coverage of the great day, and nothing made Toby more jittery than responsibility. So Toby's long suffering second-in-command was currently manning the director's gallery, while Toby and Flynn bustled back and forth on the floor, hunting down news like the remorseless predators they were.
"That gallery was driving me crazy," said Toby, as he scanned the people around him for someone worth interviewing or terrorizing. "Half the cameramen I've been supplied with don't seem to know the servants from the celebrities without checking their guest list first, the other half are social crawlers afraid to film anything interesting in case it upsets someone, and one damned pervert keeps zooming in on the bridesmaids' legs and cleavage. I wouldn't mind, but so far he's getting the highest individual ratings. When the ceremony proper starts, I want at least one cameraman right there with the happy couple when they take their vows, and that had better be you, Flynn, if you know what's good for you. I am relying on you to get me award-winning footage of today's great event, even if you have to nudge the best man out of the way to get it."
"Don't worry, Boss. I'll stick so close to the bride she'll think I'm an extra bustle."
"Hold everything," said Toby suddenly, in his best wolf-stalking-a-wounded-deer voice. "I have just spotted someone we absolutely have to interview. Donna Silvestri her own slippery self. Usually she has enough sense to avoid me."
Flynn looked across at the calm, matronly figure. "What's so special about her? Clan Silvestri has been strictly minor league for ages now."
"Shows how much you know. Dear sweet, humble, butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-ass Donna is rumored by those in the know to be Blue Block. Hard-core. And just lately, wherever there's been trouble, there's our Donna, ever ready to pour oil on burning waters. I've never known anyone with such a gift for saying just the right thing guaranteed to have people throwing themselves at each other's throats. And she's been remarkably camera shy of late. Oh, we have got to talk to her. Stick close, Flynn, and make sure you record everything."
"Boss, we're supposed to be covering the buildup to the ceremony," Flynn protested in vain as he followed Toby through the milling crowd. "Not harassing the guests to make them incriminate themselves on camera."
"Don't be silly, Flynn. That's what I do best. Ah, Lady Silvestri; perhaps you could spare us a few moments of your no doubt valuable time to speak to our audience?"
Donna looked quickly about her, but there was no escape route, so she put on her best motherly visage, and smiled warmly for Flynn's camera. "And what can I do for such a celebrated muck raker as yourself, Shreck?"
"See, Boss; she's heard of you."
"Shut up, Flynn. My dear Lady Donna, I just thought you might favor our massive audience with a few words on how you see this auspicious occasion."
"It's a very happy day, of course. I'm honored to be here."
"I'm sure you are. Perhaps you might care to share with us which particular quality it was that earned you your invitation, and indeed access to the backstage preparations? I mean, since Clan Silvestri is these days quite a minor Family, how is that you are back here when so many other more… deserving cases were denied access? Are you perhaps a close friend of the bride or groom?"
"Well, I…"
"Or are you perhaps a part of the emerging political consensus?"
"Well, I wouldn't say…"
"Neither would I. Isn't it a fact, Donna, that you are a member in surreptitious standing of that oh-so-secretive-and-enigmatic organization, Blue Block?"
"I am not personally a member of Blue Block," said Donna coldly. "Though I have had contact with those who are. Most aristocrats have. I've never made any secret of my connections."
"You've never stated them openly, either."
"Blue Block is trying to rebuild its image, as a… facilitator, bringing opposing sides together in a search for harmony. I'm proud to be a part of that process."
"And rumors that Blue Block has its own, secret agenda for the Empire?"
"Are just that; rumors. Not worth repeating even by such a celebrated troublemaker as yourself, Shreck."
And she strode determinedly forward, almost shouldering Flynn out of the way, and disappeared into the crowd, head held high. It wasn't a particularly dignified retreat, as retreats went, and Toby grinned nastily after her. Nothing looks worse than losing your temper on camera. Flynn shut down his camera.
"And what precisely was the point of that. Boss?"
"Damned if I know," said Toby happily. "But she must be up to something here if I could rattle her that easily. I think I'll have the gallery keep one camera in her immediate vicinity all through the wedding, just in case."
"But what would she, or Blue Block, have to gain by disrupting the ceremony?"
"I don't know, Flynn! That's why I want a camera close at hand. This isn't just a wedding; the crowning of two constitutio
nal monarchs makes this the most important political watershed in the Empire since Owen Deathstalker destroyed the Iron Throne. And Blue Block's main interest has always been politics. There's no way they'd let an occasion like this go by without finding some way to profit. And anyway, interfering baggages like Donna Silvestri deserve to be upset on a regular basis. It's good for their souls."
"What would you know about what's good for the soul. Boss?"
"Not a damned thing. Now hush; here comes Clarissa. I don't want her upset in any way; clear?"
"Got it, Boss. No politics, no conspiracy theories. And I won't even mention the seventeen people currently suing you."
"Best not to. Hello, Clarissa! Enjoying yourself?"
"Much to my surprise, yes. It was very kind of you to get me an invitation, but I wasn't sure I could handle being in a crowd this size. After everything I've been through, people make me very nervous. Imagine my relief at discovering half the people here are more nervous than I am! Seeing so many of the powers that be positively wetting themselves every time Chantelle even looks in their direction is doing my poor ego a power of good. Not least because I don't give a rat's ass whether Chantelle approves of me or not. I've been held captive by a Fury and a Ghost Warrior; it'll take more than a mere celebrity to unnerve me. Besides; her dress is very déclassé, and her eye makeup is très tacky, even if no one has dared to mention it to her yet."
Clarissa herself looked stunning in a pale blue gown with silver trimmings, a deceptively simple hairdo, and understated makeup. Toby told her so, and she blushed happily. They held hands and billed and cooed just like any other turtle doves, and Flynn marveled at the change that came over Toby Shreck in Clarissa's company. The hardened news-hound became almost human.
"Heads up," Flynn said sharply. "Company's coming."
They all looked around quickly as Evangeline Shreck came over to join them, the impressive masked figure of the Unknown Clone looming at her side. Clarissa shrank a little closer to Toby, but kept her chin up. Toby slipped a supportive arm around her waist. Everyone bowed and smiled politely to everyone else, and Toby appropriated a tray of drinks from a passing waiter. Everyone took a glass of champagne, except the Unknown Clone.
"Relax," said Toby. "Lift the mask and have a sip. No one's going to notice; they've got their own problems. And I already know you're Finlay Campbell."
Evangeline looked at him with something like shock, while the Unknown Clone stood very still, one hand resting at his belt where his sword should have been. "That camera had better not be recording," he said finally. Flynn quickly shook his head. The masked face turned back to Toby. "How long have you known? And how is it such a juicy piece of news has never appeared on any of your shows?"
"Well, first, I recognized your body language," said Toby calmly. "We spent a lot of time traveling together on Haceldama, and I notice such things. Like the way you and Evangeline stand together, your bodies always orientated on each other, like longtime lovers. And I never did believe Finlay Campbell would die that easily. And second, I kept quiet about it because it wasn't any of anyone's business if you wanted to hide behind a mask again. There's enough news to go round without dragging up old scandals. And third… I've kept quiet because I want a full exclusive interview with you when you finally do unmask. Fair enough?"
"You always were too clever for your own good," said Finlay Campbell. "I will unmask, eventually. When enough time's gone by that no one cares anymore."
"There is still the matter of the murder warrant against you for Gregor Shreck's death."
"No one really gives a damn about how Gregor died," said Evangeline. "Most people are relieved he's gone. And the evidence against Finlay is entirely circumstantial. Eventually the case will be dropped, and then Finlay Campbell will return. And he and I will finally be married. After I've sorted out a few little problems of my own."
"I'll be getting married myself soon," said Toby, almost bashfully. "Clarissa and I have decided to tie the knot, once the war is over."
Evangeline smiled, and then frowned slightly. "But isn't she… ?"
"My stepsister as well as my cousin? Yes. But don't worry about it. Such marriages are practically a Shreck Family tradition. Anyone gives us a hard time, I'll schedule a few prime-time specials on their own little peccadilloes. I won't let anyone stand between me and my Clarissa. I never loved anyone before. Never thought I had it in me. But Clarissa's special. Marry her tomorrow, if she'd let me."
"No," Clarissa said firmly. "I can't marry you, not as I am now. Lionstone's surgeons made a lot of changes in me, when I was transformed into one of her maids. Implants, revisions, alterations. Jenny Psycho undid some of them when she freed us, but the majority are having to be put right the hard way. Lionstone had me made over into a monster, and I did monstrous things. Sometimes I live them again, in nightmares. And then, of course, Aunt Grace was murdered and replaced by a Fury, and I was Shub's prisoner. Just what I didn't need. But Toby was always there for me. His love kept me sane. Taught me to be strong, and resilient."
"You always had it in you," said Toby. "You're a survivor. You're a Shreck."
"I want to be fully human again when I marry my Toby," said Clarissa. "And if that means having to wait, well, Toby and I both waited a long time to find each other. My only real worry is that when we finally get to the altar, they'll make me take my vows under my original name; Lindsey. I never liked it, even as a child. Changed it to Clarissa the minute I was old enough to make it stick."
"She could throw a hell of a mean temper tantrum, if you got the name wrong," Toby said fondly. "I always called her Lindsey, of course, when we were both young, just to get a rise out of her. I remember one time she tried to pierce my ear with a stapling gun… I was an obnoxious little toad, even then."
"Practice made perfect," said Flynn. "All these marriages at once; there must be something in the air. I'm trying to get Toby to let me be his bridesmaid. I'd look lovely in a nice little pink frock."
"I think you'd look very sweet," said Clarissa.
"You're the only one who does," said Toby.
"Maybe there's just too much death around," said Evangeline, and they all nodded soberly.
"Whatever," Toby said finally. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'd better get back to my control gallery, and check that everything's still running smoothly. Less than an hour to the grand ceremony now. I'll see you all later. Flynn; behave yourself. And promise me you won't try and catch the bouquet when Constance throws it."
Robert Campbell strode impatiently into yet another of the private anonymous little rooms off the main floor, and didn't bother to hide his glare when he found Cardinal Brendan and Chantelle waiting for him. "All right; what is it? What is it that's so important I have to leave all my people behind, to talk with you two in private? It's not another change to the language of the ceremony, is it? I'm damned if I'm going through yet another bloody rehearsal just to placate another religious, historical, or political pressure group."
"It's nothing to do with the ceremony as such," said Chantelle smoothly. "This is more to do with your safety, and Constance's."
"If it's another anonymous death threat, let the Elves deal with it," Robert growled. "That's what they're here for."
"Oh, there's nothing anonymous about this threat," said Brendan. "We know who's behind this one."
"We are," said Chantelle. "We, being Blue Block."
Robert looked at her sharply. "You're Blue Block? I know about Brendan, but…"
"Some of us are more open about it than others. And some of us hide in plain sight, so constantly visible we become invisible. Suffice to say I'm rather higher up the scale of things than the Cardinal here. I'm talking openly with you now to make sure you understand how important you are to us."
Robert scowled. "I know. I'm one of the Hundred Hands. One of your precious preprogrammed assassins. But the minute I'm officially King, I'm going to have the Elves go through my mind with a fine-tooth comb, and rip out
everything they find that doesn't belong there. I'll be no one's puppet. Blue Block's days of power and influence are as good as over. Once I make public what you people did to me, and how you intended to use me, people will make your name a curse and hunt you down in the streets."
"Ah, Robert," said Brendan sadly. "I really hoped you'd be more sensible than that. You can't stand against Blue Block. No one can."
"Watch me," said Robert.
"No," said Chantelle. "I don't think so."
The door opened behind Robert, and Kit SummerIsle came in. He nodded to Chantelle, and then locked the door behind him. He looked at Robert, and then stood with his back to the door, his arms folded across his chest, making it clear that anyone who tried to leave would have to go through him. And in defiance of all tradition and orders, Kid Death had his sword strapped to his hip. Robert glared at him, and then at Chantelle.
"What the hell is that madman doing here? And who gave him a sword?"
"Kid Death works for us now," said Brendan. "And he's here to make sure you take what we're about to say very seriously. We take you and Constance very seriously. You just might pose a serious threat to Blue Block's plans, perhaps even its very existence, if you really put your minds to it. And we can't allow that. So; you're going to agree to follow Blue Block's orders in all things, or the SummerIsle will go from here right now, and kill your beloved Constance."
For a moment, Robert couldn't get his breath. His heart felt as though a cold fist had closed around it. He had no doubt that the Cardinal was utterly serious, and that his threat was very real. It's happening again. My bride is going to die again. He looked from Brendan to Kid Death, and then to Chantelle. His breath rasped in his chest like razor blades.
"You'd never get away with it," he said hoarsely.