The Mystic Marriage (17 page)

Margerit had stayed by the girl’s side through it all, even holding her hands tightly while Muller took tiny, even stitches through the wound until the girl surrendered to a swoon. Margerit herself looked pale enough to faint as well. Through the haze of memory, Barbara remembered Margerit holding her own hand through the surgeon’s ministrations and declined to send her away.

The afternoon had passed and it was growing dark before Muller left to let them wash the girl gently and dress her in one of Margerit’s own shifts and make her more comfortable on a cot brought down from one of the servants’ rooms. Mesner Pertinek had come by to say that his cousin had sent over a woman who was skilled at sick-nursing and they were welcome to keep her as long as needed, which told Barbara that the uproar would soon be known all up and down the Vezenaf.

That uproar was now muted but continued on. Hard on Pertinek’s heels came Ponivin with the message that a Jewish gentleman named Monterrez was at the door asking for Baroness Saveze and that he would not be put off. After a brief moment’s confusion, Barbara looked more closely at the sleeping girl, and light dawned. She hurried to the entryway, now cleaned of all traces of the chaotic invasion. The bleak expression on the man’s face confirmed her guess.

“Mesnera—” He faltered and started again. “Mesnera, they tell me my daughter was brought here…”

“She lives,” Barbara assured him quickly. “She lives and, God willing, will continue to do so.”

His face crumpled and he buried it in his hands, murmuring something she could not follow but could easily guess at.

“Come,” Barbara said softly and led him back to where the girl lay. In a few brief sentences she explained what she knew and some of what she guessed about what had happened.

He knelt beside his daughter and took her hand, murmuring, “My poor child, my precious girl.” The bandages obscured the worst of the damage for now. At last he looked up in confusion, asking, “But how do you come into this, Mesnera? Why was she brought here?”

Barbara wondered how much he’d known of Antuniet’s doings. “Maisetra Chazillen is my cousin,” she began.

“Yes, I know,” he said. “And I have guessed you were not close, seeing that she looked elsewhere for a patron. Then why should you come into the matter at all?”

She glanced over at Margerit, warning her to keep some matters yet secret. “I had men set to watch her. Maisetra Chazillen sought to draw us into her intrigues and I wanted to know what those intrigues were. I feel some responsibility here—” she gestured down at the girl “—because I knew there was danger and I hadn’t thought that it might fall on the innocent.”

“You know who did this?” he asked urgently.

Barbara shook her head. “Only the man behind them. I’ll pursue the matter. I can’t promise you justice, but I’ll do what I can. The bullies who attacked are nothing and easily dealt with, but their leader may be difficult to touch. Leave him to me.”

He sighed and folded in on himself a little. “I would like to take my daughter home. When can it be arranged?”

Margerit made a gesture of protest. “She shouldn’t be moved, not for some days yet. The surgeon will be back tomorrow and we have an excellent sick-nurse and—”

“My people have physicians too,” he said, raising his head stiffly.

“Of course,” Margerit answered in some confusion.

“And there is the matter,” Barbara added, “of her safety. If Antuniet’s enemies still think she knows something…” She let the implications sink in and saw the bleak look return to his face. “Better to wait a week or two and see what falls out.”

And then there were further interruptions. with a maid coming in to tend to the fire and Bertrut asking whether the cook should wait dinner and another question from the cook as to what she should prepare for the invalid.

Monterrez answered the last, unexpectedly. “I will send one of my elder daughters to care for her and bring her food. You needn’t trouble yourself over that.”

Margerit began to protest that it was no trouble, but Barbara countered, “An excellent idea. Margerit, she’s his daughter; he has the right to see to her care.” She called out into the hall for the footman on duty there. “Have the town carriage brought out and tell the coachman he’s needed.” When the footman poked his head in to be sure of his instructions, she added, “Maistir Monterrez will be using it for the evening. See that he has every assistance.”

* * *

It was another hour before the searchers came back to report, quietly slipping in through the side entrance this time and insisting that word be sent up directly to the dining room. Barbara excused herself and hurried to meet them, Margerit trailing after anxiously.

“We searched the whole quarter with no sign of her,” came the report. “The others were out there looking too, so I doubt she’s been taken. Either she’s deep in hiding or she’s fled the city. What do you want us to do?”

Barbara frowned in thought. “Tell the men to keep their old schedule. If she turns up it will likely be at the workshop. And get names, if you can, of the other watchers. We may have enough to take to the city guard, and if not there are other means.” And she sent them away, leaving the puzzle: “But where could she be?”

“Jeanne might know,” Margerit ventured.

“Jeanne?”

“Kreiser—he said she’d been visiting Antuniet. Jeanne had some story about being asked to sell some jewelry for her, but I didn’t believe it. I don’t know whether he did.” And then, with sudden fear: “Do you think she’s in danger too?”

“No, he wouldn’t dare threaten anyone with standing. Not directly. But she might know something. Give my apologies to your aunt and uncle; I’m going out.”

Barbara didn’t care to wait for Monterrez to return with the carriage, so she sent word to saddle her horse and went off to change into riding clothes, bracing herself for a damp evening.

Jeanne was out, but her butler allowed himself to be coaxed into revealing that she was dining at the Penilluks’.

Barbara found their staff less sanguine about her sudden arrival. “Are you expected?”

“Oh good heavens, do you think I’ve come to invade their dinner party like this?” Barbara assured the footman at the door. “Please take word in to Vicomtesse de Cherdillac that I need to speak with her urgently, in private.” And she was instantly tucked out of sight in the cold front parlor to wait.

Jeanne came in all haste, her eyes wide with concern. “Whatever brings you out like this?”

“Jeanne, I need you to answer as honestly as you can. Do you know where Antuniet is at this very moment?”

“Antuniet…?” For a moment it looked as if she might faint, and Barbara guided her to one of the chairs. “What’s happened? What have they done?”

So. She knew something. “Her place was broken into. Her apprentice was attacked and badly hurt. Antuniet has disappeared. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

Barbara could see Jeanne's mind racing as she swallowed heavily and fidgeted with the rings on her fingers. “I don’t know,” Jeanne said at last. “There’s nowhere, no one…if she’d had anyplace left…”

“Why didn’t she come to me?” Barbara demanded. “Why didn’t you?”

Jeanne managed a bleak smile. “Because she made me promise not to.”

Barbara stifled an oath that had no place between ladies in a parlor. “I have men out searching for her, watching all the places I think she might show up. If you receive any word from her, any sign at all, tell me. Her enemy thinks she’s alone and friendless—”

“And isn’t she?” Jeanne interrupted.

“Only by her own choice. And she’s dragged me into the mess unwillingly so she’ll have to put up with my interference. Send me word the moment you hear anything.”

Jeanne rose, her composure returning. “If she comes to me, I’ll do as I think best for her safety.” She offered her hand formally in dismissal, adding lightly, “You really are something of a bully, you know.”

Barbara was taken aback and brought her fingertips to her lips in reflex. “Am I?”

She would have protested further, but there was truth enough to sting. Yet what was the point of pleasantries when action was needed? Too many lives had been damaged at this point by Antuniet’s games.

Chapter Thirteen

Antuniet

She’d only stepped out of the workshop for a moment. Only a few steps down around the corner to see if the lime had come at the chemist’s. And she’d checked, before slipping out the door, to see who was on the street or loitering at the edge of alleyways. For once, no one seemed to be watching. But that had been the mistake, of course. They hadn’t been waiting for her to leave; they’d expected to find her there.

It seemed the chemist had taken shipment of a small collection of lodestone and wanted to know whether to set some aside for her. So it must be checked and tested and the price haggled over. And then, returning, the commotion in the street. She’d kept to the shadows, fearful of the crowd, and swung several blocks wide to slip in from the back.

That was when she saw the splintered door and heard—

Antuniet crammed her hands over her ears to keep the sound from ringing still in her mind. This was worse than Heidelberg; that only haunted her dreams, not her waking. She’d stood frozen, stabbed through by the screams. She didn’t remember running. But now here she was, crouched in the shallow arch below the back stairs of the old brewery. Every footstep, every shouted voice meant pursuit. The rain muffled those warning sounds. She’d ventured out once and returned, shivering, with heart pounding, when a cart came out of nowhere, driving past the end of the alley. Night. She must wait for dark and then…where?

She should go to Monterrez and tell him…tell him what? She didn’t even know. She quailed at the prospect. Cowardice burned like acid in her belly and she shook in a sudden spasm. She should have been cold, but she only felt numb. At some point in her flight the rain had soaked her coat clear through and the stones where she huddled were icy, but the narrow alley gave some protection from the wind. Was the sky growing darker? How slowly time passed!

Where should she go? Where would be safe? To Jeanne? Jeanne had said
Anything you ask.
Antuniet could almost hear her light laughter and feel the way her presence banished all that was dark and uncertain. But Jeanne had also said that her name couldn’t bear the weight of being tied to an alchemist. And how much more of a danger would it be with this new trouble? No, she couldn’t bring all this down on the head of the one person in Rotenek who had been kind to her, the closest she’d ever had to a true friend. Was it time at last to go crawling to Barbara and beg her protection on the slender thread of kinship? Her body spasmed again, as if to reject the very thought. And yet…

No doubt Barbara would relish a chance to play the grand lady over her. The old baron had delighted in flaunting the power of his purse over less fortunate relatives. She’d never danced to his tune herself; it was better not to want what he had to give. But she’d watched Estefen engage in endless battles to claim some small piece of his expected legacy. Estefen had been a fool. With each skirmish he thought he’d won, he’d only dug his own grave a little deeper. No, she would beg nothing from Saveze. Nothing except the return of her property. Whatever else she did, she must venture to Tiporsel House to reclaim the book. But perhaps she could offer something in exchange: the chance to be rid of her and the scandal that couldn’t help but spread like ripples from this disaster. Safe passage to her next refuge? The money was all gone but she could still work. Paris, perhaps? England might be better still. She knew little of the language and the rules of society there, but she’d heard stories enough to think that an aristocratic foreigner who dabbled in the esoteric might be able to play out enough of a charade to get by. Her imagination spun off scenes of possibilities.

* * *

She couldn’t have slept. How could it be possible? And yet when she came back to herself again it was dark. Tiporsel House, yes, and then a way out of the city. Her mind set forth but her body was slow to respond. Would it be better to wait a few hours? She was so tired, and the cobblestones under the arch were strangely comfortable. But the rain had stopped and there might be no better time. It took three tries to find her feet and then she leaned against the side of the stairs until she trusted her legs to hold her.

Tiporsel House. That meant crossing Pont Ruip if she didn’t mean to go well out of her way. If they were watching for her the approach to the river would carry the most hazard.
Think
. How far would it be if she went up to the East Gate and doubled back? A couple hours’ brisk walk in fine daylight, but now? She wasn’t sure she could make it that far. So tired.

It took twice as long to get to the river when keeping off the larger streets. When she reached the small square at the south end of the bridge she hung back in the shadows, watching the drifts of passersby as they hurried on their way, no doubt hoping to reach their goal before the rain started again. A lone chestnut seller had set up his cart at the foot of the bridge and was crying out his wares in counterpoint to the splash and calls of the rivermen passing below. It looked so ordinary. The foot traffic was mostly coming south, people returning home from the shops and day-work serving the better part of town. There were fewer groups walking north for her to hide among—lone stragglers and the occasional carriage. It would only get worse the longer she waited.

Three students, slightly the worse for drink, passed by the corner where she lurked and Antuniet took her chance. Not so close that they would notice her presence; not so far back that she wouldn’t seem part of the group. She staggered a little from the stiffness in her legs, adding to the illusion. But she hadn’t wasted the weeks sharpening her vision for any hint of her watchers. A man, there, buying chestnuts. His head came up in her direction and he moved purposefully. No point in bluffing it out now. Antuniet turned to the left and hurried around the bridge embankment and down the sloping steps to the waterside. Please, God, let there be a waiting boat! The river would take her the wrong direction, but with luck she could lose her pursuers in crossing to the other side.