All the Birds in the Sky

After dinner, Ernesto sauntered to a bookcase labeled “Parties That Already Ended,” which was mainly histories of various empires. He removed a Decline and Fall with a flourish and the bookcase swung open, revealing a passageway leading to a secret bar, with a neon fairy on the wall and a sign proclaiming it to be the Green Wing. The Green Wing was another oblong, spacious room like Danger Books, but this one was dominated by a circular wooden bar in the center of the room, with a single rack full of absinthe. Art nouveau maidens and crystal dragons and parchment scripts adorned the bottles, which were every size and shape. A few people wearing corsets and poofy skirts were already drinking at a high table in the far corner, but they all waved at Ernesto.

Ernesto climbed inside the bar and started pouring from bottles into shakers. Patricia got next to Laurence long enough to whisper in his ear that he should be careful with any drink made or touched by Ernesto. “Take small sips,” she advised. “If you plan on having a brain tomorrow.”

None of these people seemed to be super-influential, and if they ruled the world they were doing a good job of hiding it. In fact, every other conversation was about how messed up the world was and how they wished things could be different.

Ernesto mixed Laurence something bright green that captured the neon light, and he caught Patricia’s warning gaze before lifting it to his mouth. It smelled so delicious, he had to make a mighty effort to avoid pouring it through his lips. His mouth was full of wonder and joy, and there were so many sharp and sweet and bright flavors that he needed to keep sipping to identify half of them.

Laurence was legless. He stumbled until someone helped him into a brocaded eighteenth-century chair that he could not find his way out of again. He realized that this was a perfect opportunity to ask some questions about magic, since nobody could blame the drunk guy for being nosey. Right? He raised his head and looked into the swarm of blurry shapes and lights, and strained to form a not-too-rude question. He was unable to find a verb to save his life. Or a noun.

“It has been a pleasure to meet you, Laurence,” Ernesto said, pulling a stool close to Laurence’s face so that his eyeliner and unpinned long gray hair were in something like focus. He had lowered his voice to a conversational tone, but it still sounded theatrical, every word enunciated like a stage actor’s diction. Ernesto was close enough for Laurence to catch the scent of an entire meadow pollinating coming off him. Close enough that if Laurence toppled forward, he would be touching Patricia’s mentor. Which Patricia had said would be very bad. Ernesto leaned closer and Laurence shrank back.

“I must ask you a question or two,” Ernesto said between sips from a martini glass, “about your intentions toward Patricia. She has confided in you, and we approve because everybody needs a confidant. But you must promise us to tell nobody else about the things she shares with you. Not your lover Serafina, not your friend Isobel, and certainly not your patron Milton. Can you make such a promise?”

“Uh,” Laurence said, “yes. Yes I can.”

“Will you humor me and swear to it? That if you break your promise, you will never speak another word again? To anyone.” Ernesto laughed and waved one hand, as if this were a mere formality, but in the background Laurence saw Patricia shaking her head, her eyes wide with panic.

“Uh, sure,” Laurence said. “I promise. And if I ever say anything about magic to anyone, I hope I lose my voice.”

“Forever.” Ernesto shrugged as if mentioning a minor detail.

“Forever,” said Laurence.

“There’s just one other favor we wanted to ask,” said the Japanese guy, Kawashima, coming into focus next to Ernesto. They were almost touching. “We worry a lot about Patricia, you see. She went through a lot when she was younger. First that Theodolphus douchebag, and then later that regrettable business in Siberia.”

“I hate it when you talk about me in the third person when I’m in the room,” Patricia said. “Not to mention the way you’re railroading my friend here.”

“We want you to help us look out for her,” Kawashima said to Laurence. “We have few rules, but our biggest taboo is against what we call Aggrandizement. Making yourself into a big deal. So we want you to support her and be her friend, in a way that none of us can. And yet also to remind her that she is just a person, just like anyone else, if she gets too high an opinion of herself.”

“Will you do this for her, and for us?” Ernesto said.