The Shadows of God (31 page)

“None of it would have happened if you and yours had not launched an unprovoked attack first on Prague and then on Venice.” »

“Well, then, it is the tsar’s fault. Go lay it at
his
feet,
not
mine. To answer your question, I did not have the power or the knowledge to do what Adrienne did, but if I
could
have done it, I most certainly would have. Newton was a casualty of war, Benjamin. That is the way of nations, the way it always has been. What have you been doing these past few months if not exerting every effort—honest and dishonest— to bring to your side nations you formerly fought against, convincing them that their old blood debts are now overshadowed? Are you become hypocrite?”

That seemed to run her out of breath and composure, both of which, in his experience, were things Vasilisa usually had in tremendous supply.

He wanted to reply in kind, in words of justified fury.

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Instead, he realized that she was on the mark—if not for a bullet, then at least for a grenado.

It hurt too much to admit it, though, so he stood silent for a few seconds and said, “Let’s have another look at that formula. And you’ll explain to me why such a theoretical question matters in this time of crisis.”

She relinquished her fierce expression and beckoned him back into the room.

“It matters because, if it is true, the problem of dissolving Swedenborg’s engine may not be exactly as you phrased it before. You wanted to disrupt the connection between aetheric forces and matter—but what if they are the same, like different notes of the same musical scale? What if the difference between them is only the difference in how tightly the string on a violin is tuned?”

“I’ll grant it for argument.”

“Then if we change the pitch — ”

“The pitch of what, the universe?” Yes.

“It’s insane.”

“No, it isn’t. Come here—give me time to convince you.”

He studied her face, wondering why she would bother with such an outrageous lie.

“I’ll give you two hours to convince me. It’s all I can spare.”

“It’s enough.”

After an hour he was completely engrossed in the idea, and began adding suggestions of his own.

“Even if we rough out the shape of this theory,” he cautioned, “it remains to propose experiments by which we might support it. And a device which might actually alter the very harmony of the spheres —I still see it as impossible, but THE SHADOWS OF GOD

what if it isn’t? How could we predict what that alteration might bring? If we make it so the Swedenborg engines cannot exist, what else might cease to exist, or come into being? 1 he planets themselves might fly away from one another or explode in noxious fumes!”

Vasilisa wrinkled her forehead. “We are all agreed it is a matter of last resort—but if it is the only thing we have for defense against the engines, isn’t it worth the chance?”

“End the universe if we cannot save our lives? At least you think grandly, Vasilisa.”

Red Shoes lifted his hands and interrupted. “When death is the only choice, why not take a death of our choosing—one that might bring ruin to our enemies as well?”

“Still, it is moot. This is not a simple harmony we speak of retuning, like that between unmatched aetherschreibers,” Franklin said.

Red Shoes and Vasilisa looked at each other, as if sharing a private thought.

The Indian voiced it.

“We have the device already,” he said. “It is only a matter of knowing how to use it.”

“What device is this?”

“The same device that makes the engines,” Vasilisa said, “the Sun Boy.”

Franklin looked from one to the other. Both seemed sincere. But Vasilisa was not to be trusted. And Red Shoes —even Tug was wary of Red Shoes now.

There was certainly something different in his manner.
t
“

But they might reach a point when the maddest of possibilities was their only hope.

He sighed. “Explain,” he said reluctantly.

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But Vasilisa was looking beyond him, at the door. “You have a visitor, Benjamin,” she said.

He turned, and found Lenka watching them.

“I’m glad you finally came to see me,” he told her, as they passed from the hall into the weed-ravaged botanical garden. “Though this is not a good time.”

“You will not make time to speak to me?” She had discarded her Apalachee warrior’s clothing and now wore a gown of blue satin. She was achingly beautiful in it, reminding him vividly of when they first met. He remembered, too, twining her in his arms, the feel of her flesh, the look of her face when close for kissing, watching her sleep in the morning light, covers pulled back to reveal a form more cunning than and sculptor—even the fabled Pygmalion—could imagine, much less render.

“Lenka, I can take a moment. But there are very important matters afoot.”

“More important than me? That is always true, isn’t it? I’m not a fool, Benjamin Franklin. I understand what is at stake, despite your having kept what you could from me.”

“I kept nothing—how could I? You haven’t spoken to me. I’ve tried to seek you out.”

“I was thinking.”

“Of what?”

“Of when I met you. Of how we fell in love, or thought we did.”

“Of course we fell in love, Lenka,” he said, exasperated.

“Then when did you fall out of it?”

“I never have. I love you still.”

She quirked her lips. “Then perhaps it is the definition of love that is in THE SHADOWS OF GOD

question. I thought that I knew what it was, but now I see I do not.

He closed his eyes wearily. “Lenka, can’t you take my word on this one thing?

Trust that I love you. And when there is time, I will make what amends I can for any poor treatment I may have given you. But now, at this moment—”

“When will there be time? You have had ten years. You convinced me the
first
of them. You have not persuaded since. And when I speak of you keeping things from me, I do not mean recently. You know that. You claim to value me for my quality of thought, and yet we have not shared a conversation on matters scientific —or on anything of real importance — in years. And so I act as your wife, in bed, in public, in this country where I was not born, where the language is strange. And we have not conceived children, which might have given me some peace, or at least someone not too busy to speak to me, but no, God will not even grant me that—” She broke off, muffling tears in her sleeve.

His own voice felt thick. “And here you have deceived
me,
wife. When have you ever told me you felt this?”

“I have told you and told you,” she said, “in words and looks and insinuations—which, had you been an honest husband—you might have noticed. Did you think I would beg, throw it all out in front of you, what you ought to have known?”

“You’re doing it now.”

“Yes,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Because now I think it’s too late to matter.”

“No. Lenka, I love you. Please, meet me later tonight, after the craftsmen have

—”

“No, Benjamin,” she said. “I have my own duties to see to. Everyone must do his part in these times, and I have found a part to play.”

“What? As Voltaire’s mistress?”

She blinked. “That is so unfair as to be obscene,” she said. “Obscene.” And she turned on her heel and walked off. “

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He ought to follow her. But what use a wife if there was no world to live in?

He could fix things. Fixing things was what he was good at. But you had to fix them in the right order…

And so he rejoined the others, and heard more of their plans, and tried to ignore the little voice telling him that his last chance had come and gone, and that some things could never be fixed, no matter how skilled the tinkerer.

Adrienne turned her face to the wall when Crecy entered.

“Ah. Still feeling sorry for yourself, I see.”

“What have you come for, Veronique?”

“To see you.”

“Strange. I thought, perhaps, to chastise me.”

“No. You have good reason to feel sorry for yourself,” Crecy replied “I do not begrudge you that.” Then, more softly, “I miss Hercule. In my own way, I loved him, too.”

“You were jealous of him.”

“Yes, as a sister is jealous. I wished no harm to him. When I find Oliver, I will kill him.”

Adrienne turned to face her. “I think he will kill you, that is what 1 think.”

“Thanks for your confidence, but it does not matter what you think, in this case. Oliver is a dead man. It is not you I avenge in killing him.”

“Hercule needs no avenging. He is beyond that.”

“So you say. I disagree. Besides, Oliver has more to answer for than Hercule —and Irena, though you seem to have forgotten her.“ She paused. ”I have THE SHADOWS OF GOD

brought someone to see you.“

“I don’t want to see anyone.”

“I don’t care. I’ll return.”

Adrienne’s jaw trembled when Crecy reentered the room. She had Hercule’s children with her.

“Here is your Aunt Adrienne, children. You remember little Stephen and Ivana, don’t you, Adrienne?”

“I remember. Hello, children.”

“Hello, Auntie,” the little boy said. The girl said nothing, but clung to Crecy’s coat.

“Your father asked Aunt Adrienne to take care of you while he is away,” Crecy said.

“Veronique — ”

“And she promised she would, that she would care for you as if she were your own mother.”

“Where is Mama?” the little girl asked.

“She is dead, like Papa, you stupid thing,” Stephen said angrily.

The shaking in Adrienne’s jaw was spreading to her whole body.

“This is despicable, Veronique,” she accused.

“Indeed. Children, I’m going to leave you with Auntie for a while. Will you be good?”

“Yes, Mademoiselle,” the boy replied.

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“Crecy, do
not
leave me with — ” But the redhead was already gone. The children stood there, Ivana wjth the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

“Come here.” Adrienne sighed. “Come sit, and tell me what you think of the Indians.”

I think they are very brave,“ Stephen said. ”I think perhaps I shall be one when I grow up.“

“Well, perhaps you shall.”

“I will be one, too,” Ivana said.

That’s stupid,“ said the boy. ”You can’t be an Indian. Indians are men.“

“So are soldiers, but Aunt Nikki is a soldier,” the little girl replied.

“Anyway,” Adrienne added, “surely there are Indian women, somewhere.”

Stephen’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t thought of that. Then he shrugged. “I guess so.”

They fell silent, and Adrienne couldn’t think of anything to say. She had avoided children, since Nico’s kidnapping—being around them only caused her pain.

Stephen, kicking at the floor, broke the silence. “You don’t have to take care of us,” he said. “I can do that.”

“Can you?”

“Yes, he can,” Ivana said emphatically. “He’s my brother.”

“So—we don’t need your help,” Stephen amplified.

Adrienne’s lips tightened. “Maybe — maybe I need
yours,”
she said. “What your father really said — ” Was she crying? Again? “—What he really said is THE SHADOWS OF GOD

that you should take care of me.”

“Oh,” Stephen said. “That’s different, I suppose. I suppose I could do that.

But…”

“But what?”

“You aren’t going to die, too, are you?”

“It happens, sometimes, as you know by now. But—I will try not to.”

“I’m not ever going to die,” the boy said, determined.

Tears turned Adrienne’s eyes to prisms, and in the refracted light, she saw again the hurricane of fire, the white-hot eye of the keres.

“Could you find Auntie Crecy, Stephen? I doubt he has gone far.”

“Yes. If you will swear to watch my sister. She is younger than me.

“I will watch her. Come here, Ivana.”

Ivana came over as the boy left. She looked at the bed very matter-of-factly.

“May I come up there?”

“Yes, dear, but be careful. Aunt Adrienne has a broken leg.”

The girl climbed up and lay looking at the ceiling. She was careful not to touch Adrienne. “My leg is broken, too, see? She flexed the tiny limb. ”Right there.“

She pointed at her knee.

“So it is,” Adrienne replied. “I wonder why they made such a big fuss about mine?”

“Because you’re a grown-up, that’s why,” Ivana said. “Do you know any stories?”

“I — I used to.”

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“Tell me one.”

* * *

“How cozy,” Crecy said.

“I despise you, Veronique. I expect perfidy from you, but this — ”

“Shh. You’ll wake the child, and you know how I hate them awake.”

“Yes, of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Where is the boy?”

“I left him with a certain Monsieur Voltaire, a very interesting man I last remember being a guest in the Bastille.”

“He is safe with him?”

“Boys are safe with Monsieur Voltaire, I think, and girls below the age of fourteen or so. They were playing at dueling. You wanted something?”

“Yes. Find me Benjamin Franklin. Tell him I need to speak to him—without Vasilisa, without Red Shoes. I do not want them to know we have met.”

“Achillette is done sulking in her tent?” Crecy asked.

“That’s enough from you,” Adrienne said.

But when Crecy was gone, despite her desperate wish not to, she looked at Ivana’s sleeping face and smiled. A promise was a promise, and she had promised Hercule to look after his children. She couldn’t very well do that if the world ended, could she?

THE SHADOWS OF GOD

11.

Three Kings

Unoka bounced down from his horse like a king’s acrobat and all but dashed into the command tent.

“Gib me some o”‘t’at rum,“ he said.

“Ah!” Oglethorpe replied. “And I thought you just eager to report.”

“General, you not in a hurry’t” hear’t‘ is.“

“That bad, eh?”

“Could be five’t”ousands o‘“t’em.”