Free A Circle of Celebrations: The Complete Edition by Jody Lynn Nye Page A

attention to the condition of wallets or purses, or of her and Gib, either, but it behaved kind of like a maiden auntie. It would let them go on making their own mistakes. It was perfect for her. Irmani had already cleaned up enough to pay for her expenses and still pay rent for two months. What with the Mardi Gras festivities cranking up to full, she might be able to get enough money so her basics were covered for the rest of the year. It’d be nice to take time off. Easier on the nerves.
    She and Gib followed the happy crowd down Bourbon Street, around the corner down St. Ann, into Jackson Square. The people were as jammed together and as colorful as jelly beans in a jar. Irmani nodded approval to Gib. This was a good place to start dropping the wallets that they had already emptied of cash. She could count on the press of people to ensure no one could tell who had lost them, just as she could count on human nature to ensure that most of what she dropped would be carried off by someone else who would never think of picking a pocket but would crow over their good fortune and someone else’s bad luck. Served them right if theirs was the next billfold to fall into her grasp.
    Irmani jumped as she caught two gigantic blue eyes gazing at her. Forcing her heart to slow down, she saw that they were in the massive face of a jester in gold, green, and purple motley that loomed over the heads of the crowd. It was part of a parade float, parked in front of one of the 19th century buildings on the square. If anything, the press of humanity was thicker around it than anywhere else.
    “What’s going on there?” Gib asked.
    “Don’t know,” Irmani said. “Sounds like opportunity knocking to me!”
    “Hear ye! Hear ye! Welcome to all the good subjects of Comus, King of Mardi Gras!” A thin-faced white man in a very fine gray-striped suit stood on a dais just inside the entrance to the Presbytère. “Be of good cheer! Welcome to all revelers! I am pleased to introduce to you the king and queen of the oldest krewe in all of New Orleans, Comus and his queen!”
    He stood aside, clapping his hands. Up onto the dais stepped two of the most fantastic costumes that Irmani had ever seen. She didn’t care about the people wearing them, but the outfits had life of their own. Acres of white silk satin had been sewn with thousands of pearls, rhinestones, and sequins into patterns like lace. Velvet cloaks swung from their shoulders, clasped with bejeweled knobs of gold that Irmani swore even from the back of the room were real, as were the necklaces, tiaras, bracelets, and rings. The glorious painted masks that covered the upper part of their faces weren’t leather or plastic. Could they be ivory? So much wealth in one place took her breath away. A heavy hand dropped on her shoulder.
    “Easy, girl,” Gib whispered. “Not for you.”
    “I know it,” she whispered back, peevishly. It didn’t do any harm to dream.
    The king was speaking. “… As of the earliest members of our sacred order, we want to enrich our mutual heritage. As a token, we are bestowing upon the Presbytère and the Louisiana State Museum these fine artifacts that, according to the documents we have recently discovered, were worn by my many-times predecessor and that of his queen in 1902.” He patted the top of a glass display case that was just visible at his left hand. “That makes these older by eight years than the parure already on display here. I hope you will enjoy them and the spirit of Mardi Gras. Laissez les bon temps roulez! ”
    Irmani waited impatiently in the long line.
    “This had better be worth it,” she said to Gib for the nineteenth time. There was no opportunity to increase their personal wealth in the meantime. Gib had pointed out the security cameras aimed down at them from six different spots on the ceiling. She might have been able to fool the minds of the guards, but video tape was out of her reach.
    The line took them through a forest