Hotel Magnifique(27)

In a nearby room, the red-haired suminaire from the soirée poured a stream of never-ending liquid from a thimble. A group of soaked guests—all with the same blonde hair and tan skin—searched the wet ground with their fingertips. My heart skipped a beat when the red-haired suminaire looked right at me. Then her gaze shifted back. I turned, but behind me was a wall.

“They can’t see us,” the maid shouted above the din.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Once you’re in a game, you can’t see out.”

“But the walls are glass.” I stepped forward to examine the room.

The maid jerked me back. “Don’t get too close.”

“A group is coming out!” a voice roared.

We both jumped and the maid knocked into me. My hand shot out to brace myself against the room, but instead of stopping, it passed through the glass. I tumbled headlong, landing in a puddle of warm liquid. My right foot still poked outside. When I pulled it the rest of the way through, the ballroom disappeared. The glass walls turned opaque white. I knocked. Solid.

“How fun. A maid has joined us,” said a guest in thickly accented Verdanniere. She twirled a costume mustache like a spy from some theatrical play. Her ruffled dress was soaked through.

The liquid felt like bathwater, but from the scent, I knew it was tea. The walls shined like ceramic. The opening of a spout curved across the ceiling. We were trapped inside a teapot. I counted. With eight people, the room was snug.

“Maids aren’t allowed inside the games,” said a high-pitched voice.

I turned. The red-haired suminaire stood in the corner. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Des Rêves’s in charge. If she catches you, you’ll be fired.”

She spoke so casually, but it managed to shake me to my core. “Can you let me out?”

Her fingers squeezed her tea-pouring thimble. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait. Once you’re inside a game, there is no stopping it until the exit is discovered.”

The same words as the woman’s effervescent voice. Except the walls were solid with no exit.

A guest waved. “There’s no clue that leads to the exit. We’re doomed to drown.”

“You’re allowed one hint,” said the red-haired suminaire. “Do you want it now?”

Everyone chanted, “Hint. Hint. Hint.” followed by cackles of laughter.

“Very well. But the hint has a price.” At her words, a series of letters pushed out from the wall.

“What’s the price?” I asked.

The suminaire lifted her thimble. It poured faster, the tea climbing quicker. Right.

I didn’t recognize the language of the hint, but I trudged over, trying to understand the puzzle so I could find the exit and leave.

“Look, the maid has come to save us all!” one guest howled, waving an empty wine glass.

“What could you possibly try that we haven’t?” said another guest.

I agreed with him. I had no idea what to do.

I sloshed back to the suminaire. “What’s your name?”

“Red,” she said.

Made sense. Her hair gleamed like a ruby.

“Well, Red, I’m certain the guests have had too much to drink. You have to let me out.” When Red didn’t move a muscle, I wrapped my fingers around her thimble. It sizzled with magic.

“Don’t touch my artéfact.” Red ripped the thimble away.

Artéfact. It was the same word inscribed on that plaque in the lobby. I stared at the thimble.

“There was a plaque with the word artéfact—”

“Hush,” she whispered, suddenly fearful. “That word doesn’t leave this building. It was foolish of me to say it out loud.”

Red was as cagey as Béatrice. Before I could question her further, she swiped back a clump of wet hair, revealing a circlet of small dots tattooed across her forehead. I’d seen that same pattern across the brows of sailors in Durc.

“You’re from the Lenore Islands, aren’t you?” The small chain of islands was a two-day trip southeast of Verdanne. Bézier once told me the tattooed dots mimicked the star formation directly above the main isle.

Her jaw tensed. “I don’t recall.”

“You don’t recall where your home is?”

She turned away from me. “I need to get back to my job.”

A tremor of unease moved through me. Béatrice and Bel had both danced around answering any questions about their home. Now Red didn’t seem to remember it. My worry was only growing the more I heard.

I grabbed the nearest guest, the mustached woman. “Where did you enter the hotel?” I asked. “Do you remember your home?”

“Stanisburg? Of course I remember it.” She sniffed. “The ma?tre promised me I wouldn’t forget a thing until after I check out, and certainly not my home.”

Of course. She would soon return home because she was a guest.

I shivered. At the moon window, Bel said workers couldn’t see their homes. He never mentioned anything about forgetting where they were from. But then again, he never mentioned being the Magnifique, either. It seemed he’d left out a lot.

I remembered Durc perfectly, though. It must have something to do with the guest contract I’d signed. In that contract there were the paragraphs of languages—anything could have been hidden inside it. The maids would have all signed staff contracts. If those contracts altered their memories, it might explain their strange behavior.