“I work because I enjoy it,” Madame Mere said. “Everyone loves beauty, but what I love more is making it. I like to map out someone’s desires in pattern and cloth. I like to stitch them together. And if some of my kith think it’s strange for me to do it, they overlook my strangeness for the privilege of wearing my clothes. You, my dear, want more than what life has given you. What is so wrong with that? This is what I want, too. It is what everyone wants.”

“So you won’t tell the militia?”

“That would be a very boring outcome to your unusual situation.”

I was not at all reassured. “That doesn’t sound like a good reason to trust you.”

“I disagree. You have been to one of our parties. Surely you saw how, beneath all the finery, everyone is hungry for something different, something new. You, my dear, are exactly that. Why would I give you up?”

“So I am … your entertainment.”

“You are a story whose end would come far too soon in prison.” She busied herself pouring pink tea. “Would you like some? I can’t tell you what the elixir in that vial does, but it’d be best to pour it out if you don’t know. It could make you weep golden tears, or make what you imagine come to life, though usually only for a brief time. My elixir is very benign. It heals. It repairs scars, as you’ve seen. It fills in the cracks left by age.”

I realized that I had never seen a truly elderly looking High Kith. If I had thought about it, I would have assumed it was because I had been to places only young people frequented, but it seemed that no one here needed to look their age.

I refused the tea. The burn would return anyway. This elixir didn’t strike me as healing, but as an addictive respite from the truth. “Did you make the elixir?”

She took a sip from her cup. “No. It is supplied by the Council. There are many varieties. The price is high, but most are willing to pay, through either gold or pledges.”

“Pledges?”

“Yes. Many parents pledge one of their children to the service of the Council, which is always in need of new members. Few people actively want to serve the Lord Protector, though there are always some who enjoy the thrill of being close to the center of power and voluntarily induct themselves into the Keepers Hall.”

“Why is it called that?”

She shrugged delicately. “I suppose because they keep and control the supply of elixirs. And they keep order in the city. They oversee the militia, who are Middling, and appoint members of the Council to be judges. But I don’t really know why the hall is called that. It has always been called that.”