The Mystic Marriage (52 page)

The answer was one of Antuniet’s self-effacing shrugs. “It could all be nothing more than a show for others. Why else go to all this length before I’ve proven myself? But the equipment functions; that’s what matters. We ran a simple process yesterday to test the alignment and it’s as precise as even your
visitatio
could make it.”

And tomorrow they would begin the first of the layered
cibations
. Antuniet had chosen to perform that work here, leaving the workshop on Trez Cherfis for testing the marriage of the layers. Margerit looked back toward the door. “I thought Jeanne was close behind me. Should I—” But the sound of several voices through the thick oak answered her as it swung open.

“But Jeanne, I scarcely see you anymore! Elin and I have the evening off and we were all going over to Ermilint’s to play cards.”

And not just Tio and Elin, but Iaklin as well, Margerit saw. How annoying.

Antuniet muttered in disgust, “Tionez!” barely low enough to go unheard.

“Antuniet,” Tio demanded. “Let Jeanne come with us just this once! You’re too selfish with her time.”

She was answered with Antuniet’s familiar cool, half-mocking stare. “Mesnera Perzin, I assure you that the vicomtesse always does exactly as she pleases and needs no permission from me.”

Margerit would have thought that they’d quarreled again but for Antuniet’s gesture: a brief movement of her hand to caress the scarlet pendant that now always hung at her throat. And she almost missed Jeanne’s response: the barest touch of her fingertips to her lips. She might only have been covering a cough. The coolness had been for Tionez, not for Jeanne. As if nothing out of the ordinary had passed, Jeanne said, “Not tonight, Tio. There’s no time for anything but alchemy this week. But we’re promised to Verneke Albori’s ball. You’re invited, I assume?”

Margerit moved to draw away the uninvited visitors. “Have you seen the lovely tile work they’ve done over here? Mesnera Perzin, are you enjoying your new position? I confess I’ve always thought Princess Elisebet to be something of a dragon!”

Tionez saw through the ploy but there was little she could do, so she laughed and answered, “Not her, it’s Sain-Mazzi who’s the dragon. I wouldn’t cross her if I valued my head. And I think poor Chustin is terrified of her.” She idly picked up a dark green bottle that was standing on the bench to show to Iaklin. Antuniet moved swiftly to remove it from her grasp.

“Don’t touch that unless you care to have your pretty skin stripped off like a butchered rabbit.” She replaced it farther from the edge. “And I don’t know why it should be ‘poor Chustin.’ There’s little enough in his life to pity.”

“No? Elisebet is so terrified he’ll come to harm that she barely lets him set foot outside her apartments.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “His tutor’s been taking him out into the city when his mother’s not around. I helped them sneak out last week to go up the river past the Port Ausiz to see the horse fair. Not that Elisebet has forbidden it directly, of course. No one would dare act against her orders if that were the case. But the way they cosset him! He’s mad for stories of foreign lands. The greatest treat he can imagine would be to go down to the wharves and see all the barges and the sailors at the Nikuleplaiz. And she thinks he can be fobbed off with picture books!”

Margerit had been gently herding the three visitors toward the doors, which Marken helpfully opened as they approached. “It’s been so lovely that you could stop by and see the new workshop. Maybe next time you can start a new fashion for grinding ores.” And in the pause it took for Tionez’s face to twist in distaste, she and her friends found themselves standing on the other side with the door politely closed in their faces.

Margerit leaned against it for a moment as if anticipating a renewed assault. “That was one thing we weren’t bothered with at Trez Cherfis,” she said to the room at large. “Do you think we’ll become the latest curiosity?” But no answer was expected or needed and they set to work.

* * *

Days later, Margerit struggled to shake off a haze of fury as she strode through the front door at Tiporsel, only vaguely noticing the footman’s scramble to open it before her. As she struggled with her gloves, a clatter of footsteps heralded Brandel’s descent to the foyer.

“Oh!” he said in disappointment. “I thought it was Cousin Barbara.”

Margerit bit back a sharp reply. Her mood wasn’t his fault. She still wasn’t accustomed to the noise and chaos a boy his age brought into the house. Not that she and Barbara hadn’t produced chaos on their own a time or two. “I don’t think she means to be home before dinner.” The gloves dropped onto the side table, followed by her bonnet. Dealing with the faculty masters had not only been unproductive but had made her late. She crossed to the parlor and poked her head in, feeling guilty until she saw Aunt Bertrut entertaining her guest. “Signora Talarico? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.” She crossed the room and gave her aunt a brief embrace. “Thank you for playing hostess for me. We’ll be in the library for the rest of the afternoon, I think.”

Her guest waited patiently as Margerit cleared the small library table and spread out the
expositulum
for the All Saints mystery—not the one they had celebrated just recently but the original, fuller ceremony that the Guild of Saint Atelpirt had developed. Her movements must have betrayed the lingering anger, for Serafina observed, “I think it did not go well at the university?”

“No.” Margerit looked up and dropped all pretense. “They said—” She searched in memory for the precise words to give proper force. “They said that Rotenek University had stood for seven hundred years without the disgrace of allowing a woman to lecture in the Chasintalle and they were disinclined to break with that tradition.” She sighed. “I’ll find another place. LeFevre—my property manager—he’s been keeping an eye open.”

“But have they forgotten their history?” Serafina asked. “I thought that the famous Tanfrit had been named a
doctora
at Rotenek.”

“I didn’t know that,” Margerit said. Her curiosity was stirred. “Where did you hear that story?”

“I don’t recall; some old correspondence? I read so many things. Perhaps it’s as much a myth as Pope Joan. Your university should know, I would think. Now show me what you’ve done here. When I saw the celebration at the cathedral I could see the…what did you call it? The
fluctus
? But I couldn’t tell how the ceremony called it forth.”

They worked through the towers and walls of the
castellum
and then began the comparison to the revised ceremony. Serafina was quick to follow the logic and question a detail here, a phrasing there. But when she called for paper and began to sketch out a design of her own, Margerit hesitated. “I’d prefer to wait until Barbara can join us.” She reached for an explanation when Serafina looked doubtful. “The mysteries…we always work on them together. She has an instinct for the larger questions. Not about how the ceremonies work but about how to use them in the world. And it’s always been a special time between us; I wouldn’t feel right to exclude her.”

Serafina sat back and cocked her head curiously, setting the long ringlets of her hair to swaying. “Tell me. The
accademicas
of Rotenek—are many of them lovers of women?”

Margerit was too startled for words and could only gape at her.

“Perhaps I must beg your pardon. Is this something that isn’t spoken of? I only thought…You were so open at the dinner. You and your baroness, and the alchemist and her friend, but not, I think, the other two. But you must tell me if I have gone beyond what is proper.”

It would be bad enough if she becomes known for saying scandalous things,
Margerit thought,
but worse if it sets other tongues to wagging
. As delicately as she could, she explained, “If a woman is granted the reputation of an Eccentric, society does not question too closely the details of her life. But it would be another matter to have vulgar accusations attached to her name openly. That becomes a matter of honor. And matters of honor are still sometimes settled with swords.” She searched Signora Talarico’s face to see if she had properly understood.

A thoughtful expression replaced the curiosity. “I see. It is quite the other way around in Rome. Everyone’s vices are discussed openly in the marketplace but practiced in private. I had a lover once who was the most notorious sapphist in the city, but she would never say so much as
buongiorno
to me if we met on the street and I could never be seen to enter her palazzo. Though perhaps that was only me,” she added wistfully.

“But I thought you were married!” Margerit blurted without thought.

Serafina laughed. “What has that to do with the matter? I must amuse myself somehow when my husband’s away! But I see I will need to change the manner of my discretion. I promise I will try not to embarrass you or say anything that would require your baroness to challenge me to a duel!”

Margerit returned to arranging the papers to cover her confusion. She was accustomed to such matters being understood without being acknowledged. Was it truly so obvious to a stranger that she and Barbara were lovers? Or was it only if that stranger were a sister in spirit? Signora Talarico would be granted some license as a foreigner, and a more than ordinarily exotic one at that. But if she meant to remain in Rotenek for long, she was correct that she’d need to learn to hold her tongue.

Margerit ventured one piece of advice. “You might do well to become better acquainted with the Vicomtesse de Cherdillac—Antuniet’s friend. She knows better than the rest of us how to play that game safely. Now would you like me to have a copy made for you of any of the
expositula
? You may come here to study them if you please, but between my own classes and helping with Antuniet’s work, I don’t keep to the usual social hours.” And the matter seemed settled between them after that.

* * *

The stones for the presentation were being worked at the palace, but there were still more firings than could be done in one furnace: seed stones to be grown, further experiments to refine the layered cibations like today’s work. Those could still be fit into the cramped quarters at Trez Cherfis. Even without the full crew for the twinned processes, the old workshop felt so crowded now. It was several minutes before Margerit sorted through the crowd of attendants in the front room to realize that only Anna, Jeanne and Efriturik were there. “Where’s Antuniet? Will she be back soon?”

“I thought perhaps she’d been out early to see you,” Jeanne said. “Anna found no one here when she arrived but the housekeeper.”

“And does she know anything more?” Margerit asked.

Efriturik shrugged. “She said nothing to me or to Maisetra Monterrez.”

Margerit leaned out into the hallway, calling, “Mefro Feldin!” toward the back of the house, where sounds of bustle could be heard.

The housekeeper put in her appearance after a delay just short of insolence, saying, “What did you want, Maisetra?”

“Maisetra Chazillen. Do you know where she’s gone?”

The housekeeper shrugged. “It isn’t my business to keep track of her comings and goings.” And then, just as she was on the point of leaving, she fished a folded message out of her apron pocket. “I suppose this might say.”

“Why didn’t you give that to me at the start!” Anna cried in frustration.

Feldin looked her up and down. “You didn’t ask,” she snapped. “And I don’t take orders from the likes of you.”

“Feldin!” Margerit said sharply.

She turned, only slightly abashed. “Begging your pardon, Maisetra Sovitre, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“What a sour old thing!” Jeanne said as she broke the seal on the folded note. “Why do you allow her such insolence? I wonder that you’ve kept her on this long.”

“It isn’t the easiest thing to find someone willing to do for an alchemist,” Margerit said with a sigh. “Not in this neighborhood. She was the best I could find and Antuniet seems to rub along with her well enough.”

Jeanne scanned the brief lines of the message. “Well, there’s an end to the work we planned today. She’s off to Iser. Something about a barge and a shipment and a dispute. She says she expects to be back in time for the working tomorrow afternoon.”

“To Iser!” Efriturik exclaimed. “Half a day’s travel each way. Surely she could have sent someone else.”

“Could we do the experiment without her?” Margerit asked. “Anna, you’ve taken charge before. You could direct us.”

Anna shook her head. “Not this one. Maisetra Chazillen didn’t have specific plans. She meant to use your
visio
to adjust the fusion of amethyst over garnet. It’s tricky because the crystals are such different shapes. We could do a different formula, I suppose, but I can’t think of any that we need.”

Jeanne had been frowning over Antuniet’s note again, but now a faint grin crept across her face. “I have the very thing. Anna, could you fetch DeBoodt? You can read his codes, can’t you? And those handlists we drew up over the summer. There’s a process that Antuniet and I did once, just the two of us. Surely we could work through it with what we have.”

Anna brought the book up from the basement lock-room and Jeanne went hunting through the notes until she found her goal. “Here it is!” she said in triumph, reading out the rubric. “
An enhancement of beryl to make the bearer tranquil and well-mannered and not always at odds with those around him.
” She looked up at the others with a mischievous smile. “Do you suppose we know anyone who would benefit from the effects of such a stone?”

Efriturik was the first to catch her meaning and frowned. “Better than a waste of time, but if you and Chazillen worked it together, then you will have no need of me. Send word when there’s real work to do again.”

After he left, Anna ran her finger over the list of
materiae
. “I suppose…we could do it easily enough. Everything we need is here in the shop. And the roles…With the three of us we could even add this elaboration to the enhancement:
To turn discord into friendship
.”