The girl sniffed. “I don’t like this fortune,” she said. “Let’s go try another one.” As they flounced away, two rather tipsy noblemen took their place.

One had a beaky nose and wobbly jowls. The other threw back his coffee like he was gulping kvas and slammed the cup down on the table. “Now,” he slurred, twitching his bristly red mustache. “What’ve I got in store? And make it good.”

Mal pretended to study the cup. “You weeel come into a great fortune.”

“Already have a great fortune. What else?”

“Uh…” Mal hedged. “Your wife weeel bear you three handsome sons.”

His beak-nosed companion burst out laughing. “Then you’ll know they aren’t yours!” he bellowed.

I thought the other nobleman would take offense, but instead he just guffawed, his red face turning even redder.

“Have to congratulate the footman!” he roared.

“I hear all the best families have bastards,” chortled his friend.

“We all have dogs, too. But we don’t let them sit at the table!”

I grimaced beneath my mask. I had a sneaking suspicion they were talking about Nikolai.

“Oh dear,” I said, yanking the cup from Mal’s hand. “Oh dear, so sad.”

“What’s that?” said the nobleman, still laughing.

“You weeel go bald,” I said. “Very bald.”

He stopped laughing, and his meaty hand strayed to his already thinning red hair.

“And you,” I said, pointing at his friend. Mal gave my foot a warning nudge, but I ignored him. “You weeel catch the korpa.”

“The what?”

“The korpa!” I declared in dire tones. “Your private parts weeel shrink to nothink!”

He paled. His throat worked. “But—”

At that moment there was shouting from inside the ballroom and a loud crash as someone upended a table. I saw two men shoving each other.

“I think it’s time to leave,” said Tamar, edging us away from the commotion.

I was about to protest when the fight broke out in earnest. People started pushing and shoving, crowding the doors to the terrace. The music had stopped, and it looked like some of the fortune-tellers had gotten into the scramble too. Over the crowd, I saw one of the silken wagons collapse. Someone came hurtling toward us and crashed into the noblemen. The coffee urn toppled off the table, and the little blue cups followed.

“Let’s go,” said Mal, reaching for his pistol. “Out the back.”

Tamar led the way, axes already in hand. I followed her down the stairs, but as we stepped off the terrace, I heard another horrible crash and a woman screaming. She was pinned beneath the banquet table.

Mal holstered his pistol. “Get her to the carriage,” he shouted to Tamar. “I’ll catch up.”

“Mal—”

“Go! I’ll be right behind you.” He pushed into the crowd, toward the trapped woman.

Tamar tugged me down the garden stairs and up a path that led back along the side of the mansion, to the street. It was dark away from the glowing lanterns of the party. I let a soft light blossom to guide our steps.