The Mystic Marriage (12 page)

Barbara hadn’t considered that side of things before. Just because she’d never asked for more than the trappings of ceremony didn’t mean Marken didn’t take his job more seriously. But she laughed lightly in response, saying, “And I suppose you have some eager student who’s looking for a position!”

She made the touch to end the bout and Perret shook his head as he stood down. “No one I can think of at the moment, but if you like I’ll ask around.”

Barbara pondered the idea. “I wouldn’t be an easy charge.”

“And the old baron was?”

She laughed again. “But he trained me up to exactly what he wanted. I suppose I could do the same, but it would take years! I wouldn’t stand for being bullied and sheltered like some innocent girl. But it would need to be someone I respected enough to obey if there were a genuine danger. And then there are the complications of my household…” An armin ended up being privy to most of his employer’s secrets. How easy would it be to find someone who would take hers in stride?

Perret nodded as if following her thoughts. Whatever his own feelings might be, this was business. “Shall I keep my eyes open?”

Barbara considered the offer. “No,” she said at last. “I’m still not convinced of the need.” She glanced at the long clock at the end of the practice
salle
. “I should be getting home. Thank you for your advice.”

* * *

The practice had dispersed her anger enough that Barbara felt only a slight twinge of annoyance when she found a small letter-casket waiting for her on returning to Tiporsel, accompanied by a note written on the back of another one of Maisetra Chamering’s cards.
Your mother left this with me when she went to join her husband in prison. I never opened it. Do with it as seems best to you. I will not trouble you again. H.C.

Lifting the box, she could feel a slight shift of the contents that spoke of a large volume of paper inside. There was no outer latch, only a keyhole. Unless the previous holder had had the key, her claim that it was unopened seemed true. Strangely, no curiosity stirred in her, only trepidation.

She took the casket into the library and tucked it into a space next to a volume of Desanger’s
Logica
. It could wait.

Chapter Nine

Antuniet

Darkness. Darkness everywhere and thick silence. She was looking for…what? She needed to find it; she couldn’t return empty-handed. A thin crack of light, like the slightest opening in a wardrobe door. She moved toward it, seeking a way out.
Show me!
The demand was like a watchdog’s bark.
Have you done it? Show me!
Her reticule hung heavy at her wrist, dragging it down. She fumbled at the strings and poured out the contents into the outstretched, expectant hand. Instead of brilliant, glowing gems it was nothing but dirt and pebbles. The hand closed into a fist then jerked sharply downward to cast the work aside. The door slammed, erasing that line of light and a key snicked in the lock. All was darkness again.

Antuniet woke with a start, thrusting her hands out against the dream-door. Thin threads of light shone through the shutters from the first streaks of dawn. She rose, still exhausted, and went to throw them open to chase out the shadows.

The attacks in Prague and Heidelberg had come with almost no warning. Here at home it was easier to notice things out of place and wonder: the man who seemed to follow her home from the market one day, the shadows lurking more openly down in the street when she’d climbed up to the gable window at midnight to check the zodiacal watch against a sighting on the star Aldebaran. Were the curious stares in the street only for her rumored occupation or was there a deeper interest? What of the man who stood on the corner opposite for three afternoons in a row? But then on the fourth day, a young woman ran out of the baker’s shop to join him and they walked down the street hand in hand. She felt a fool for being afraid. Was anyone watching her? Or was she seeing spies in every loiterer? She’d never seen the men who searched her rooms in Heidelberg. Would it matter if she had? Likely they’d been hired riff-raff. One face she knew: the man in Prague who had seemed in charge. Vitali’s assistant had pointed him out and repeated the questions he’d been asking. And then when she’d seen him ransacking Vitali’s laboratory—the one where her work was done—she’d turned and fled the city that same day.

But there would be no leaving Rotenek. There was nowhere left to go. She’d seen that face again, crossing the Plaiz Vezek. She wasn’t certain, but his features had stood out against a river of Alpennian faces. She’d turned away quickly when he glanced her way and then he was gone when she looked back. Who was he? And why had he tracked her here? Beyond the obvious, of course. Back in Prague, Vitali had seen him coming and going from the castle, but that told her nothing that she couldn’t have guessed.

And now at the chemist’s shop, where she bought minor supplies and admired the intricate glassware she had no excuse to order, the proprietor brought the fear back to the fore when he said, “There was a fellow asking after you. One of those German sorts. Must be one of the new
dozzures
at the university.”

Antuniet barely had time to wonder at that when his assistant countered, “Not German, Austrian. I told you we’d start seeing more of them with the princess returned. I know because he bought that
sublimatorium
you were looking at,” he added, turning back to her. “Had it delivered to the ambassador’s house on the Plaiz Efrank. I don’t much think he’s going to use it though. Looked at the piece like it was a vase for the mantel or something.”

The old panic leapt up fresh, though his chattering gave her time to renew the mask.
What did he ask?
she wanted to demand.
How much does he know?
It would only draw attention. The chemist no doubt had guessed the nature of her work, but it was in his best interest to ask few questions. She could assume the Austrian knew her direction and habits…or would soon enough. If he were connected with the embassy then her worst fears were confirmed. Here was no jealous scholar seeking the book for his own purposes. She thought she’d been careful, during those early days in Prague, when she first realized what she’d found. Yet word had gone around. That had been unavoidable even in the secretive community of alchemists. And somehow her work had come to the attention of men with power, men who wanted her discovery for their own masters.

But what would he do? Would he move as directly as he had in Heidelberg? Here on her home ground? He was connected to the ambassador. Had he maneuvered ahead of her and gained Annek’s ear? Until she had successful work to show, it would be hard to compete with the promise of an emperor’s gratitude in return for one little book. There was nothing she could do beyond the precautions that had become second nature. The book was concealed, even more securely than in Heidelberg, taken out only in the depths of night when she was sure of being alone to copy out pages of cryptic notes for the next experiments.

Her hands were still shaking when she returned to the workshop. Anna called out a greeting from the inner room as Antuniet closed and locked the door behind her. She leaned against it for a moment, drinking in the sense of security, before answering, “Are you finished with the distillation? Set out the materials we’ll need for tomorrow and make sure there’s nothing else running short.”

* * *

Whatever dreams there may have been didn’t survive into the soothing rituals of the next morning’s routine. The working couldn’t start until the stars had achieved the specified angle and nearly all the preparations were complete. The knock came as she was measuring out the caustic. Antuniet jumped and barely kept it from splashing. At the second knock, Anna called out from the other side of the room, “Shall I see who it is?”

“No!” she answered sharply as she stoppered the jug and set it aside. Coming into the front room, she scolded, “I’ve told you a dozen times, you aren’t to be answering the door to strangers. If I’m not here and Iakup isn’t here then they can come back later. Go back to your work.” Anna scurried off. She’d trained the girl well enough to obey a direct order without question.

She stood frozen at the door, unwilling to betray her fear by demanding a name, until the third knock came and she lifted the bar and worked the latch. But it was only Jeanne framed in the doorway. She was trailed by her maid carrying a large hamper. Antuniet closed her eyes briefly in relief and leaned against the jamb.

“Is something wrong,
chérie
?”

Antuniet felt Jeanne’s hand touch her cheek and brushed it away along with her concern. “I wasn’t expecting you this early.”

“I do hope it’s not
too
early,” Jeanne said as she swept inside. “I thought I’d bring a luncheon today. Can the work be paused enough for you to enjoy it?”

That was just like her, Antuniet thought. It wasn’t that she was unconcerned with other people’s convenience, but it didn’t enter into her planning until necessary. It was oddly comforting, as if Jeanne’s very presence banished all the shadows. “I can make time,” she answered. It was worth the interruption for that illusion of normalcy Jeanne brought in her wake. She turned to where Anna was peeking out from the inner workshop. “Go tell Iakup to bring the table down from my room. And another chair from wherever he can find it.”

When the table had been placed and a cloth laid, Jeanne turned to Anna while the dishes were being set out. “Do join us. Toneke, tell her she may.”

“I don’t think…” Antuniet began.

Anna offered, “I have my own dinner to eat later, Mesnera.”

“I brought plenty,” Jeanne assured her. “We needn’t stand on ceremony today.”

Antuniet interrupted, “Jeanne, let her be. She isn’t permitted to eat Christian food.”

Confusion gave way to understanding. “Oh! I hadn’t realized—” And then both reactions were driven out by curiosity. “But how does that work, Antuniet? I thought that alchemy was like the mysteries, that it requires the aid of God and the saints. How—?”

Antuniet saw the defiant flash in her apprentice’s eyes and hid a smile. “Anna, are you ready to stand your first examination? Come join us and explain to the vicomtesse how it is that Jews and Christians may join together in the practice of alchemy.”

Once urged past her sudden shyness, Anna filled their ears with the history of the Great Work. Watching Jeanne focus her attention on someone else was enlightening. Was her charm calculated like the movements of her fan? Or did it come as naturally as breathing? Antuniet couldn’t recall ever seeing the act laid aside for more than a startled instant. And yet it never seemed false. Watching them, she would have sworn that Jeanne knew no more fascinating subject in the world than the paths that traced from ancient Egypt through the tangled web of knowledge and enlightenment.

Anna seemed willing to recite the entire history of the field from Maria Ebraica to Saint-Germain, but Antuniet stopped her before it would become tedious. “That will do for now. Go finish measuring out the materials for this afternoon’s work, then take your own dinner.” When the girl had disappeared into the back and closed the door, she asked, “And what do you think of my apprentice now?”

“She suits you,” Jeanne said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have guessed you had the patience for students.”

“How did you think I’ve been earning my bread?”

Jeanne made a dismissive gesture. “People like me don’t give a single thought to earning bread!”

“Don’t you?” Antuniet asked. “I think it’s just a different type of bread.” But she didn’t follow the thought. She pulled out Vitali’s watch to check the alignments. The conjunction wouldn’t be for a little while yet. “I can only spare you another half hour. Tell me what the gossip is.” In truth, she cared nothing for gossip but it kept the illusion in place a bit longer. On days like this, she wondered how long she could last without the glow of Jeanne’s illusions chasing out the shadows.

* * *

Antuniet watched Jeanne being handed up into the fiacre and waved briefly as it pulled away. She stared after the vehicle, wishing that… From the opposite side of the street, a stare caught her attention. Too long for idle curiosity; not long enough for recognition. As the man turned and strolled off slowly, worry settled back into her belly like a small, burrowing creature. She barred the door again and went through to the workroom.

Anna looked up from her jars and powders and asked, “Maisetra, why does the vicomtesse visit you?”

Antuniet considered the easy answer: that she was an old friend. But it wasn’t true. They’d barely been passing acquaintances before her return. “She’s bored and she finds me amusing,” she said at last. It was likely to be close to the truth and it seemed to answer the girl’s curiosity. But the question nagged at her.

She felt…cultivated. Courted, almost. Back when their paths had crossed in the old days, she’d watched Jeanne pursue connections for the sake of her little games of influence. That was the bread she earned: the balls that couldn’t be held without her advice, the hostesses who relied on her to secure the most prestigious guests. Did Jeanne have so much confidence in the eventual success of the Great Work to consider her worth the trouble to attach? It hardly seemed likely. But that left only the possibility that Jeanne had an interest in
her
. And that was too absurd to entertain for more than a passing moment.

* * *

For days there was nothing new to worry her. Then one morning she needed to open up the door to the lane behind the shop so that Iakup could bring in the coal without trailing dust through the front rooms. And in the wood around the latch there were deep, fresh scores, as from a knife searching for a crack. She was certain they hadn’t been there before. The locks were strong and she still worked Saint Leonhard’s charm over them for whatever good it would add. As Heidelberg had proven, those protections only mattered when her enemies hesitated short of force. And even the best locks could be defeated with enough skill.