Ghosts of Columbia (37 page)
Read Ghosts of Columbia Online
Authors: L.E. Modesitt Jr.
Tags: #Science Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Alternate History, #United States, #Literature & Fiction
I did manage to keep a smile until his steamer whistled back down the drive, but I had trouble relaxing my jaw when I went back into the study and stared at the blank screen of the difference engine.
“That bastard! That unholy …”
I paced in front of the bookcases, then stared out into the rain. Not only was he out to surprise poor Garth into public retirement, but he was flat-assed blackmailing me to rearrange my private life.
“And it grieves me, its wretchedness will be blinded.” Carolynne’s voice was soft.
“That is an understatement. Did you hear?”
“Though deceitful is the sinful world … these times are turbulent. They cause distress to heart and mind.” Her voice turned bleak.
I understood. She understood that if I asked Llysette to marry me, David could always hint that she owed the marriage to him, or that I didn’t love her enough to ask without that. Sometimes it was clear Carolynne had seen all too much—or was it my projection of what I thought she had seen? I rubbed my forehead.
“The last flower, the last love, are both beautiful, yet deadly.”
“I’m learning.”
Carolynne vanished, and I went back to fiddling with the justice ghost since I felt like I was finding precious little justice or mercy in the real world. Even when I tried to console myself with the $ 10,000 “consulting” cheque from International
Import Services, PLC, it didn’t help, at least not enough to keep the metallic taste of silver from my mouth. As an agent, you could shift some of the blame to those who gave the orders—some, but hot all. But I’d acted on my own, against orders, and a lot of people were either dead or zombies, and it wasn’t over. I shuddered.
Import Services, PLC, it didn’t help, at least not enough to keep the metallic taste of silver from my mouth. As an agent, you could shift some of the blame to those who gave the orders—some, but hot all. But I’d acted on my own, against orders, and a lot of people were either dead or zombies, and it wasn’t over. I shuddered.
S
aturday wasn’t any better for sleeping in, either, but I did manage to do a complete run over the top of the hill and to the end of the ridge. After I got back, I even finished most of the exercises, despite a wind that promised freezing temperatures later, underscored by the clear winter blue of the sky.
aturday wasn’t any better for sleeping in, either, but I did manage to do a complete run over the top of the hill and to the end of the ridge. After I got back, I even finished most of the exercises, despite a wind that promised freezing temperatures later, underscored by the clear winter blue of the sky.
The snow by the stone fences remained, now topped with an icy crust that would preserve it for the rest of the winter as more and more snow piled onto it over the weeks and months ahead.
Later, following a more leisurely than normal breakfast of apple pie and Imperial Russian tea, I showered, dressed in a warm green flannel shirt and wool trousers, and went to work on drafting my final exams, trying not to think about Llysette and the evening ahead.
Sometime in late morning, after two exams, with two to go, I shook my head, turned off the difference engine, and grabbed my winter parka. The reliable Stanley started without a hitch, even though I hadn’t plugged in the heater.
I did use four-wheel drive on Deacon’s Lane, just in case, but didn’t see or sense any black ice. My first stop was Samaha’s.
Louie wasn’t behind the counter at Samaha’s when I picked up the paper; his wife Rose stood there instead. She actually smiled.
“Good morning, Doktor Eschbach.”
“Good morning.” I smiled back.
“You be having a good day, now.”
“I hope to.” Although I hoped to have a good day, or a good evening, David and the dean notwithstanding, my stomach was still tight. I just folded the paper without looking at it and walked across the square to the post centre. The sky was still clear blue, and cold, but the lack of wind made the day seem warmer than it really was.
Unfortunately, on the steps up to the post centre I almost ran into the dean herself, wearing a heavy black coat and matching scarf and gloves. Her scarf bore an oversized golden cello pin. I stepped back.
“Doktor Eschbach, I am glad to see you up and around. David had told me of your illness, and I certainly wouldn’t want one of our rising stars laid low, if you know what I mean. I do hope that we’ll be seeing some special announcements before too long.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes. “We all will be so pleased.”
“I am sure that matters will be resolved in the most satisfactory way possible, Dean Er Recchus, and I do appreciate your interest.” Like a loaded gun at my temple I appreciated it, but I bowed and smiled again.
She inclined her head, with an even broader smile, and continued down the steps to her steamer.
My postbox contained three circulars, the NBEI bill, and a reminder that I needed a dental examination. The way things were going I needed a lot more than my teeth examined. I scooped up the envelopes and cards and walked slowly back to the Stanley.
I drove around the square on the way back and waved to Constable Gerhardt, who smiled and returned the wave, looking as clueless as ever.
Back home, I put the steamer in the barn, and even remembered to plug in the heater, since I would be heading back out to watch Llysette’s directorial efforts that evening.
By midafternoon, with breaks for lunch and this and that—developing exams was always a lengthy and painful process—I ran off the last exam on the printer, the Environmental Politics 2B exam, and took a deep breath. I flipped off the difference engine and reread each of them a last time. I’d proof them once more in a couple of days, but the more times you read them, the more likely you are to catch stupid mistakes. Professors make stupid mistakes. That I was continuing to learn.
“Do you know, I would quietly slip from the loud circle?”
I looked up at the ghost floating by my elbow. “I didn’t know you were interested in environmental politics or tests.”
“I saw you pale and fearing. That was in dream, and your soul rang.” Carolynne’s words were soft, faint.
“I’m sorry. You told me, but … I’m sorry. You deserve better.”
Was she paler than usual? I walked behind the couch and pressed the boss on the mirror. Had the watch tampered with the lodestone when they had searched the house? I swung out the mirror, but the lodestone appeared unchanged.
“Only a brief time, and I will be free.”
“Free?” I shook my head. “I’m not about to stop the lodestone. That would be murder of sorts, and you—no one deserves that. You’ve suffered enough.” I eased the mirror back into position.
“How we push away the person who loves us! No grief will soften us cold ones. What we love is taken away.” For a moment she almost looked real in the high-necked recital dress, and I thought I could see colors. First she seemed pale, then more real. Was I losing it? How much was in my mind?
I swallowed hard. “Is it always that way? Do all ghosts feel as you do? I never
thought about it, but you could as well ask if all people feel as I do. Thoughtless of me.”
thought about it, but you could as well ask if all people feel as I do. Thoughtless of me.”
“I live by day, full of faith.”
Faith, for a ghost? “And by night?” I asked as I turned on the hall light and walked toward the kitchen, since I needed something to eat before I got dressed for the evening.
“And every night I die in holy fire.”
I pulled out the butcher’s knife and started to slice some ham off the joint to go with the cheddar. Carolynne drifted toward the door, then slipped out of sight. I looked at the knife. I couldn’t very well avoid knives, but I could understand her revulsion at the blade.
After I cleaned up the dishes and retrieved a bottle of wine from the cellar for later, I went up to the bedroom to dress. First I tried the light gray suit, but that didn’t seem quite right. So I settled on the dark gray pinstripe, the one I’d worn the day I’d resigned as Minister of Environment. The suit seemed looser. Had I lost weight, or was I just in better shape?
“How I loved you even as a child,” offered Carolynne, in words that felt more sung than spoken as she appeared in the doorway.
“You are a shameless ghost.”
“Ways will I elect that seldom any tread.”
“Sorry.”
“Never will love be satisfied. The heart will become more thirsty and hungry.”
“Are you talking about me, or you?”
“Will she change what she enjoyed?”
“She? Llysette? Are you talking about Llysette?”
“Your splendor is dying on yonder hill.” She winked out, probably going back to her lodestone for a recharge, or meal, or whatever.
I shivered at the warning, for it was clearly a warning. Why was I doing this? Was it a last attempt to do what was right? Was that the reason I’d kept persisting with the ghost caricature of justice and mercy? After everything, could I do less than try to set things right?
My stomach tightened more, and my heart raced. Was I having a heart attack? No … just an anxiety attack. I took a deep breath.
Before I left the house, I quickly pulled one of the disassociators out of the closet and tucked it in the foot well of the difference engine stand, in case I needed it for demonstration purposes later.
When I got to the university, I parked the Stanley at the end of the row that held Llysette’s Reo, and took just about the last space in the faculty car park, although a number of the cars did not have faculty tags. After locking the steamer, I walked down and across to the main entrance. Under the heavy overcoat I was actually too warm, and I wiped my forehead before I walked up the stone steps into the building, unbuttoning the overcoat as I did. I did keep an eye out, just in case I
ran into one of vanBecton’s “legacies.” Then again, if they were good, I probably wouldn’t see them until it was far too late. And, who knew, I wondered if that might have been better. I tried to keep upbeat and shook my head, pushing away my fears.
ran into one of vanBecton’s “legacies.” Then again, if they were good, I probably wouldn’t see them until it was far too late. And, who knew, I wondered if that might have been better. I tried to keep upbeat and shook my head, pushing away my fears.
I was earlier than usual, maybe twenty-five minutes before the curtain; except, even in Dutch New Bruges, the curtain never rose on schedule. Only a scattering of people crossed the foyer toward the ramps. There wasn’t a wait at the box office, and I showed my faculty card and paid my two dollars.
“It’s supposed to be good, Doktor Eschbach.”
“I hope so.”
After climbing the ramps to the main door of the theatre, I took the program from the usher, a woman student I’d never seen, and glanced at the title page:
HEINRICH VERRÜCKT
OR
THE TRAGEDY OF HENRY VIII
BY
LUDWIG VON BEETHOVEN
AN OPERA IN THREE ACTS
OR
THE TRAGEDY OF HENRY VIII
BY
LUDWIG VON BEETHOVEN
AN OPERA IN THREE ACTS
I paused at the back of the theatre, two-thirds of the former gymnasium. The renovation had been thorough enough to put in inclined seating, a full stage, and some acoustical renovation, including dull-looking hangings, but Llysette had still complained that the sound reverberation was uneven and that she had to watch for dead spots on the stage.
I settled into a seat halfway back on the left side, right off the aisle, and wiped my forehead again. I was definitely not in top shape, however much I had played at Spazi agent in the weeks preceding. It was a miracle I hadn’t gotten killed.
While I waited, I read through the program. I didn’t really know any of the cast, except by name. By the time the lights went down, Llysette’s players had almost a full house, even if two-thirds of the audience consisted of friends just wanting to claim they’d seen the opera.
The first act was all right—still some jitters in the cast even though Friday had been opening night—but they all settled down in the second act. The student who played Henry was good; he was a solid baritone, and he had Henry’s total arrogance down pat.
At the end of Act III, of course, Henry was imprisoned in the Tower, foaming at the mouth and singing fragments of the same aria that he used to proclaim himself as the supreme head of church and state. Beside him were the ghosts of Anne and Catherine, who continued to plead endlessly in their separate songs. None of the three heard the others, just as they hadn’t all along. In the foreground, Mary
lifted the cross and sang almost the same words as Henry, thanking God for delivering the crown to her. Yet it wasn’t chaotic, but a deeper harmony that was almost eerie.
lifted the cross and sang almost the same words as Henry, thanking God for delivering the crown to her. Yet it wasn’t chaotic, but a deeper harmony that was almost eerie.
The curtain fell, and the applause was instantaneous. I applauded with the rest. Especially with a student cast, Llysette had done a magnificent job.
As I clapped, my eyes saw a familiar figure down the aisle—Gertrude, the zombie lady. She wasn’t applauding, but sat there wracked with sobs. I stopped applauding before the others, puzzling over her reaction. Gertrude, for whom every day was a good day, sobbing? Gertrude attending an opera? Especially an opera by Beethoven?
What had touched her? In a way I envied her, even as I pitied her. That direct expression of feeling was so foreign to all of us more sophisticated souls.
After the initial crowd dispersed, I made my way backstage, noting that I didn’t see Dean Er Recchus; but, then, she would have made her presence known on opening night.
Again I realized that I should have brought Llysette chocolates, but I hoped she understood that I had had a lot on my mind in the past several weeks.
I still had to stand in line as a dozen or so admirers told Llysette what a wonderful job she had done. In a green velvet dress, she was stunning, as usual, and her warm professional smile was firmly in place as she responded to each compliment.
“Congratulations,” I finally said, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I don’t know how you did it, but it was wonderful.”
“The sound, how was it?”
“The acoustics? You had them standing in the right places. I could hear it all clearly.”
“That is good.” She shifted her weight from one foot to another, then returned a wave to one of the students, the girl who had played Anne, I thought.
“Are you about ready to go?”
Llysette pursed her lips and nodded. “I will just follow you. Tomorrow, I must sing for the Anglican-Baptists.”
“Again? You don’t want me to drive?”
“Better it would be for me to have my own vehicle, I think.”
After I helped her into her coat, and after we gathered up all her material, we walked out to the car park. I opened the Reo’s door, then set the heavy bag behind the seat, and kissed her before closing the door. Her cheek was already cold from the wind.
“You are always gallant.”
“I try.”
The Stanley was ready several minutes before the Reo. Before long Llysette would need to have the burner assembly retuned, I suspected, but I hadn’t said anything because she would have pointed out, most logically, that her income was far from astronomical, while steamer repairs were more than astronomical.
Once she waved, I pulled out of the car park—we were the last ones there—and headed down and around the square. We had to wait for a watch steamer to cross the River Wijk bridge, but saw no other cars on the road.
Llysette was out of the Reo by the time I had opened the car barn and pulled the Stanley inside, and her teeth were chattering even after we got inside the house. I hugged her for a moment, then turned on the kitchen lights. After her shivering stopped, I helped her out of the heavy coat and put it in the closet.
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