Revenant Eve (48 page)

In other words,
I
was now the thing in the way of the two of them getting together.

Xanpia, are you listening?

No answer.

W
HEN WE GOT BACK TO THE PALACE,
as soon as she was alone, Aurélie hit the mirror so she could see me. “This guest chamber, it’s not a servant’s room.”

“No.”

“I expected to have such, as I did in Paris. And on that ride, those people, they looked at me as they bowed to him.”

“So? They’re curious about their prince being back. He went away a teenager and returned a man. They’re probably going to be talking about an official coronation soon, as he came of age while he was gone.”

She made a gesture as if pushing aside the matter of coronations. “They’ll ask who I am.”

“Yes.”

“They’ll ask why he takes me out in his cabriolet.”

“Yes. You mean he has little privacy? Kings don’t get a lot of privacy. They can close doors, but the people outside of them talk about what might be going on inside.”

“I hate that.”

“Think of it as a balance,” I said. “You know what can happen to kings if enough people don’t like what they’re doing. And you know what kings can do to people on a whim if they have that much power.”

“The Place de la Revolution, either way.” She rubbed her arms.

There was a knock, and Viorel was back with a small army of seamstresses. They had indeed taken her French dress, but that opened a new set of questions. Should they use this new fashion, was it a morning gown or evening, what did the French wear for this occasion or that?

I blurred out.

As always, a change in situation snapped me back, in this case when a summons came: The queen had invited Donna Aurélie to an early dinner. They would gather in the Rose chamber when the clocks struck the hour.

“What do I wear?” Aurélie exclaimed as soon as the footman was gone. “I cannot wear this same gown. But the only one finished is…” She sped into the next room, where gowns lay with bolts of fabric. These were basic, requiring lace and ribbon embellishments. The seamstresses had taken away chosen fabrics to put together more elaborate gowns, complete to embroidery.

Aurélie took up a plain white muslin gown and then shook out a length of shimmering green gauze that was to be made into an under dress. She pulled it over her head and let both ends flutter to the floor. “Yes,” she said. “I learned this from Madame Josephine.”

She hunted among the trims, and located gold edging. With quick snips, measures, and a few stitches, she made a simple headband to fit around her head, holding the gauze in place like a draped headscarf. Then she looped the ends of the gauze up and fastened them to the gold wrist bands she had made. The green draped in graceful loops from her head down her sides to her wrists, evoking that lovely Grecian look again.

“It’s perfect,” I said.

The clock rang then. She twitched her kiss curls below the edge of the green so they clustered charmingly around her face, and walked out, the gauze billowing.

Jaska was waiting at the end of the marble landing, his demeanor changing when he saw her. Oh yeah, he was smitten. And now that he was home, he was way less guarded about showing it. “May I compliment you on your appearance?” He smiled.

“If I may compliment you on yours,” she returned with a laughing glance, then sobered. “Am I to start bowing to you now? Saying ‘Durchlaucht’ with every sentence?”

“Don’t,” he said quickly. Then caught himself and sighed. “In public, where we are observed, yes.”

“Duppy Kim was right.”

“In what regard?” he asked as they started down the hall toward the queen’s rooms.

“That you have a very public private life.”

He gave a crack of laughter and then lowered his voice, going on in English. I wondered if English had ever been spoken in those halls as he said, “One of the reasons I went to Poland was to get away from the people who had planned out my life, right down to my marriage.”

“The Countess Irena?” Aurélie asked.

“Yes. We never got along as children. She and my sister squabbled every time they saw one another. But the Duke of Trasyemova wanted a royal grandson and because he commands the Guard, my mother, as regent, placated him by promising to consider it, though she maintained she would make no decisions about either of us until we reached the age of understanding. Between that and the Ysvorods’ bitterness about my birth—” He stopped. “What did Fielding say in
Tom Jones
? ‘By thunder!’ That sounds foolish. The German is better,
Donnerwetter!
German swearing is altogether preferable.
Teufelsblut!
I’m beginning to sound bitter all on my own.”

A few paces more, and the footmen sprang to open the doors to the queen’s receiving antechamber.

Aurélie gave her court curtsey as Jaska bowed to his mother. Margit came forward to greet them, and I saw Aurélie watching. Margit did not bow to her brother, but inclined her head to him as she greeted him, and a slight nod for Aurélie.

The queen rose. She was dressed in a
robe d’anglaise
, which I already knew was her favorite style. It was strange to think that I dressed in a copy of one of her gowns for a masquerade ball in this very palace, two centuries farther up the timeline. This gown was peach and silver,
with green ribbons. She held out her arm to Jaska, who took it with his free hand, leaving Margit to walk beside Aurélie into the adjoining chamber.

The table was set for four. At least that many servants came and went as fine porcelain and real gold implements were brought out. Aurélie was served some kind of a pie thing that appeared to be baked cheese, with layers of hot-house tomatoes, onion, and some type of herb that looked like shredded basil.

“This dish,” the queen said to her in slow German, “was introduced to us through the Chevalier de Vauban. It was actually in the form of a soup, comprised of those browned onions, with the cheese atop. He said it was the food of the people, though I cannot imagine that nobles didn’t also partake. It is delicious, I find.”

Aurélie took a cautious bite and agreed.

“Excellent. My cook has been experimenting with the basic form, as you see. We have relied on that particular dish during the Lenten season. My son.” The queen turned her head. “I hear that young Elisheva finds your friend Mordechai rude, irreverent, and nearly uncivilized.”

“And he found her altogether astonishing,” Margit said. “He was almost affronted to discover that her scholarship is superlative. I don’t understand.”

“You would have to know the Jewish traditions of Poland, perhaps,” Jaska said. “Some of the customs of our Jews diverge from those of the Polish Jews.”

“I thought Mordechai Zusya followed the strictures of the Baal Shem Tov,” the queen said. “Rabbi Avramesçu has disclosed that much in a report to me.”

“He does, and yet not altogether. You know how traditions say that the Jews wrote to Maimonides after Dobrenica rejoined the world five-hundred years ago?”

“Yes. Tell me something I do not know.”

“And it happened again a couple of centuries ago, when they wrote to the Ari-Hakadosh and were taught that the scattered sparks of the Divine Light must be regathered—”

“The
tikkun olam
, which is doing the great work of fixing the world’s peace, which aligned the Jews even more closely with Dobrenica. Son—”

“Bear with me! One more: When Rabbi Yosef Ridotski came back from studying with the Ari-Hakadosh, he had learned that teaching women to study Talmud and other holy texts was to gather those sparks of knowledge and do holy work.”

“His three holy daughters, before he had a son,” Margit said.

“And that’s where we diverged. In Poland, Jewish women are not part of the study of sacred texts,” Jaska said. “In some circles they’re not even supposed to make music, because it’s not considered modest. So here’s Mordechai, questioned by a girl several years younger than he, who can return a quotation—three—to every disparaging, angry remark he makes about the absurdity and evil of the world. I gather that Mord was undone.”

The queen gave a lady-like sniff, and flickered her beringed fingers as if brushing the subject of Mord aside. “So what were
you
doing while being rude, irreverent, and uncivilized, these past few years? I have your letters, which were remarkable for what you did not tell me,” the queen said. “Except that you were still alive,” she added quickly. “And I understand about fearing that they would be opened, but there is surely no fear now. Here we are at dinner, completely free of Russian, Prussian, Imperial, or French spies.”

Jaska looked down at his hands. I felt sorry for him—I could have told them all that he and Mord seemed to be poster boys for PTSD but that concept was a couple centuries away.

“I believed that duty and honor obliged me to help determine what Bonaparte was doing with the Poles,” Jaska said finally. “But it became plain that no agreement is to be found there. Many believe him sincere and will fight for him willingly, because he is undoubtedly a great commander. As for his promises for Poland? General Kosciusko does not believe them. Neither do I.”

“We will discuss Bonaparte anon. And before that?”

“Mord and I were dispatched by Prince Poniatowski to learn the semaphore system if we could, with an idea to establishing it in Poland.”

“And?” the queen asked as she signaled to the waiting footman to pour more watered wine for the ladies, and wine for Jaska.

“Line of sight, sun, problems with lanterns and weather—there are many drawbacks,” Jaska said, using a piece of bread and a pointing finger to demonstrate each problem. “Above all, the Poles would need the kind of control over people and countryside that Bonaparte is busy establishing.”

The queen set her fork down, her frown formidable. “Bonaparte supports Polish freedom, does he not?”

Jaska looked away. “He says what the Poles wish to hear. He says what everyone wants to hear. But he does what he wants.”

“Which is?”

Jaska indicated Aurélie. “Her ghost told us that Bonaparte would declare war on England a week or so before he did it. She also said that his next battle will not be north into England, in spite of this war. It’ll be east, into the empire.”

The queen had picked up her fork again, but she dropped it to make a warding gesture. “Poland fallen, and the empire soon engaged with the French. It will be worse than it was a few years ago.”

“Yes,” Jaska said. “From what I heard at the legation, we won’t be able to look to Sweden for aid.”

“My sister does not write well of Gustav,” the queen said, nodding in agreement. “He’s violently opposed to Bonaparte and insists that he, Gustav, must lead any efforts against him.”

“It was a mistake to ask Gustav for help. And to offer my services, after having been trained under Kosciusko.”

“Oh, Jaska, I’m certain Gustav regarded you as a foreigner, and with distrust,” the queen said. “He talks wildly about how he would’ve fought the Russians in seventeen ninety-four and won if only this, if only that. No matter. The situation in Sweden is not as dire as our own.
We
need peace all the more, if we’re not to be overrun from either direction.”

Her emphasis on the word
peace
caused him to still, and I knew exactly what she was talking about: the Blessing. Supposedly, it would magically close off those roads into the valley.

Of course. The Blessing. I’d forgotten all about it. Well, I’d never believed it was real.

Xanpia, if the Blessing really works, why do you need me? Or was that a roundabout way of saying that though vampires walk, and magic exists, and seraphs fly around Paris, the Blessing is really only symbolic?

As always, no answer.

The queen had been watching Aurélie, whose table manners were neat and graceful. She signaled for the next course to be brought in, each dish on heavy silver platters, then said, “I fear we are boring our guest with our chatter of international politics.”

“It was a frequent topic in Paris,” Aurélie said as the footman took away her old plate and set down a new one with a layered pastry. “I am accustomed, your majesty.”

“Did Bonaparte ever talk to you?” the queen asked as she dug her fork into her pastry. “From what I hear, he talks and it is the part of all in earshot to listen, your majesty.”

Aurélie flashed her quick, crooked smile. “
Vraiment!
He’d never ask our opinions. Our part was to listen, and to cheer when he made a pronouncement.”

“I feel sympathy for Madame Bonaparte,” the queen said lightly. “Hers cannot have been an easy life, either before he seized power or now.”

Jaska said, “Madame Bonaparte sent Donna Aurélie to the Piarist Sisters in Vienna for a magical solution to her problem of begetting an heir.”

The queen’s eyes closed briefly. “That poor woman. How very desperate she must be, to send a young girl in secret. We will leave her problems, though, as we are not asked to solve them. Come! Tell me about this mysterious ghost of yours who can predict Bonaparte’s next war, but cannot help his wife?”

Jaska said, “Perhaps we ought to postpone these questions until after the meal, whence we can confront a mirror. It’s much easier to talk to this ghost when she can be seen.”