as the first moment of unloosened sensuality began, to be followed by another, and another, the intensity of which diminished slowly, leaving her replete, all passion spent. Gradually she released him, aware that she had been straining to hold him tightly to her, one of his hands caught between them until she moved far enough to allow him to extract it and to lift his head from her neck. She floated on the last vestiges of her delectation, then whispered, "That was wonderful. I'm going to miss having you here."
"You do not want to have any trouble with your brother, do you, Zozia," he said, thinking that Zozia had it in her to flout convention and dare her brother to accuse her of bad conduct. "You have your mission to consider."
"And so do you," said Zozia. "We'll have to remain in close contact, Grofok, but not as close as we have been, more's the pity."
Saint-Germain moved a little farther away from Zozia. "Do you want to disappoint the King?"
"Of course not. We both have our work to do." She reached for the closing sash on her wrapper and pulled it across her body. "It's just that I'm sorry to have to give up your company." She lowered her gaze. "When my husband returns, I know I'll feel the loss of your ... understanding."
Zozia's avowal made Saint-Germain uneasy. He prepared to rise, his attention fully on her. "I will have my belongings moved by mid-day tomorrow. You will not have to endure any confusion on my account."
"Having you gone will be inconvenient, but it is necessary to--Not that I don't love my brother, but he believes it is his right and duty to direct me in everything I do." Petulance had crept into her tone, and she frowned in spite of the ragged laughter that punctuated her statement. "He doesn't think that I can find my way in life without him, or Arpad, to guide me. He prides himself on his position within the family. Furthermore, he expects to have his efforts and opinions respected."
"That must vex you," said Saint-Germain as he got to his feet. "If it would not put you in an unfavorable light with your brother, I would remain. But you have already said you would be held in his contempt."
"He knows about your pose, of course," said Zozia, "but you may
find him trying to seek out as much information as he can in regard to my work here."
"He will hear nothing to your discredit, at least not from me," Saint-Germain assured her. "As for the servants, you have an impersonation to maintain; their gossip is part of your ruse."
"I'll try to convince Benedykt of that." She clicked her tongue. "I hope he'll understand."
"If he has any comprehension of your task, he will." Saint-Germain bent and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Get some rest. You have a very busy day ahead."
She caught his hand in hers. "Do you have to go?"
"Tonight?" he asked.
"Tomorrow. You have many items to move, but can't you leave Hroger to attend to it? Benedykt isn't here yet."
"I could," Saint-Germain allowed. "But it would not be considerate. To have me leave upon his arrival will have a very suspicious appearance--rumors would fly that your brother has arrived to protect you, and that we have separated as a result of your family's disapproval."
She considered this, then sighed. "Of course. This way you are being of service to me and my brother, and the gossip will reflect that."
"Especially if you say how grateful you are that I have been willing to make my move to the care-house at so provident a time." He slid his fingers lightly along her shoulder. "You can turn this to good account."
She nodded slowly, ruminating; the cathedral clock struck one, which brought her out of her contemplation. "And what about Saari? Do you plan for him to remain in the stable with Gronigen?"
"Would you prefer he left? I can put him to work in the care-house if you find his presence unacceptable. But you may want to have him here, so he can be your messenger and guard." He lifted his brow speculatively. "Why not think it over and tell me in the morning what you have decided."
She looked away from him. "I'll do that," she told him, and pulled the summer-weight comforter over her, paying no more attention to him.
Saint-Germain went into his part of the bedchamber, trying to make up his mind about Zozia's expectations. While he reflected on her character, her marked tendency to believe in her own scenarios that anticipated events in her life, and her great disappointment when her prospects were unmet, he went about packing his smaller belongings into cases. He undressed and slipped into his chamber-robe, securing the three frogs down the right side of the garment of Hungarian cut in deep-red silk twill. As he took off his shoes, he could feel the power of the night sink into his ancient veins. Finally he sat down on his bed, deciding to rest for an hour or two. Stretching out, he was soon in the stupor that passed for sleep among those of his blood.
Shortly after dawn Saint-Germain was up again and dressed in his most practical clothing--a long leather coat the color of autumn leaves over chestnut knee-britches in heavy linen with an ecru chemise and high riding boots. By the time Hroger came to shave him, he was busy finishing the last of his packing.
"I've told Gronigen to use your carriage to carry your belongings to the new care-house," said Hroger in Imperial Latin. "The rest of the house is just starting to stir. In half an hour, breakfast will begin."
"Gronigen will have to bring the carriage and horses back to the stable here," said Saint-Germain in the same language. "There's no provision for keeping a pair and a coach at the care-house."
"It's all arranged, my master." Hroger put down his basin, prepared his brush and razor, then draped a towel over Saint-Germain's shoulders and under his chin.
Saint-Germain gave a faint, abashed smile. "I need not have wondered. I meant nothing to your discredit."
"I'm aware of that." He worked a froth on the bar of soap, then spread it on Saint-Germain's face; he reached for the razor and began working up Saint-Germain's neck, then along his jaw and his cheeks, his upper lip and chin. "This should do for another week. You're fortunate that your hair grows so slowly."
"Yes, and that you can see what you are doing; my lack of reflection is a nuisance."
"Dangerous as well," said Hroger. "It's the sort of thing that servants are likely to notice."
Saint-Germain went very still. "Has there been something--"
"Last night Salomea remarked that she had noticed that she couldn't see you in the Ksiezna's mirror when you walked behind her." Hroger paused. "I said it was probably an angle of the light. She said that it might be possible, but she hadn't seen such an alteration before. She's put the whole staff on alert."
"Then it is just as well that we are moving to help finish the care-house." He rubbed his face. "Do you think anything more is needed?"
"I think that the least said, the better; let the servants speculate." said Hroger, and changed from Latin to Russian. "The Ksiezna is still asleep, so perhaps we should wait until she's awake to move your things out of this part of the room. I will have Gronigen and Saari load up the trunks from the stable and take them to the care-house as a first load. They will be back here by ten o'clock if they start in the next hour."
"Take my red-lacquer chest in the first load; make sure it stays upright in the carriage. It has my medicaments and supplies; if the chest falls over, many vials and jars will break." Saint-Germain paused. "And the second chest, with my preparatory equipment--that should go in the rear compartment on the second floor." It contained all his alchemical apparatuses except an athanor; the alchemical oven was too cumbersome to put in a chest and carry. "I will have to discover whom to bribe to get the bricks I need to make my--"
"I know," said Hroger, cutting him off in case they were being overheard. "You will want one for your work with medicaments."
"That I will," said Saint-Germain, listening to the sound of Narkiss firing up the stove.
"Then I'll be going out to the stable shortly." Hroger gathered up his shaving equipment and left quickly and quietly, leaving Saint-Germain to look into the chest-of-drawers in order to select clothing for the next two days, until all his goods could be moved.
By four in the afternoon, the carriage had made three trips to and from the care-house, leaving Saint-Germain's side of the partition in the bedchamber empty of everything but a wash-stand and a bedstand
on which an oil-lamp was placed. Saint-Germain looked around the room, then went to Zozia's side of the partition. "I think everything has been moved out of my side," he said to her as she sat in front of her dressing-table, contemplating her reflection in the glass while Salomea brushed her hair; he was careful to stand in such a position that he could not readily be seen in the mirror.
"Good. Then I assume you will spend the night at the care-house?"
"I will, since my bed is there, and so will Hroger. Gronigen and Saari will bring the coach and horses back shortly," he said with a bow.
"They will be welcome to their bunks in the stable, and their place at the table for meals." Zozia said this as much for Salomea's benefit as for any misunderstanding Saint-Germain might have. "You have much work to do, I gather, before the care-house can be fully moved."
"That we do. Tomorrow morning, joiners are coming to install cabinets, shelves, counters, and drawers, and I am expected to tell them where they are to be placed."
"All part of finishing the place." She kept up a manner of determined optimism, but Saint-Germain was aware of her dissatisfaction.
"There are double-pane windows to install, and an interior antechamber off the front door, so that no infection can easily get out." He bowed again. "I plan to be back when your brother arrives. You will have word from the harbor when the
Apollo
is approaching. You need only send for me, and I will be glad to join you here, or at any place you stipulate."
"You are most accommodating, as always," said Zozia. "I thank you for taking the time to settle our housing arrangements before he arrives. As you say, it makes things less awkward."
He could see that Salomea was listening, so he said more than he had at first intended to, assuming she would pass on whatever she heard. "Your brother has a delicate mission here, as you do, so it is fitting that the two of you should spend your private time together, going over the goals of your missions, as they are now redefined. You are in a unique position to guide him through the Foreign Quarter, and to make him known to the Residents and Embassies here."
She smiled enough to show that she appreciated his extra information. "It is what Poland expects." Her face became expressionless. "I am still shocked that Augustus II has been set aside in favor of Stanislas Leszczynski."
"Well, Stanislas is a Pole, and Augustus a Saxon," Saint-Germain remarked.
"True enough, although Stanislas is more corrupt than Menshikov," she said. "Still, Stanislas has extended my mission here, although his goals are somewhat different than Augustus' have been. I hope Benedykt will be able to tell me how I am to proceed." She pouted, but not as prettily as usual.
"Tell me what I am to do, since I have received no orders from Stanislas," said Saint-Germain. "I remain at your service, you know."
She flashed him a brilliant, insincere smile. "Always so well-mannered," she approved, flipping her hand. "Still, you have no new assignment that I know of. You might as well get to your new house. The household here will be dining in an hour, and by then, you will want to have a fire in the stove at the care-house."
"No doubt you are right," he said, coming to the side of her dressing-table and bowing to her; he could see Salomea glance in the mirror to try to find his reflection. He stepped back. "I will call on you tomorrow, and hope you will have news of your brother's arrival." He kissed her hand, which she had extended to him.
"You will be pleased to know him, Hercegek."
"It is my hope," he concurred politely. "In any case, let me know what you require of me then, as I suspect there may be some things I can do for you that have not yet occurred to you. Send me word when you have use of me."
She lilted a laugh at him. "How gallant you are."
He put his hand on his breast just under the elaborate knot of his neck-cloth. "It is because of you, Ksiezna." Then he turned and left, going out of the house and walking back toward the care-house, a freshening wind serving as a reminder that autumn was coming. He took note of the traffic on the street, surprised at how much it had increased since May. Taking care to look for the man who had been following
him, Saint-Germain was unable to make him out in the confusion of sailors, workmen, servants, and foreigners; he walked a little faster, taking comfort in the busyness of the streets, for surely no one would risk attacking him with so many others about. He patted the skirt-pockets on his coat, feeling the francizca tucked into each; these small, expertly balanced throwing axes had proved valuable many times in the past. He lengthened his stride and kept on toward the care-house, trying not to watch around him too obviously.
The incomplete care-house was at the edge of the Foreign Quarter, a large rectangular box of a building, with six windows facing the street and six facing the rear of the house. All had the outer window-panes in place, but only three of the windows had their interior panes. The building was eerily silent, for the work-gangs had gone off for their evening meal. In the declining sunlight, the windows glowed as bright as lava, and the newly cut thick boards showed the marks of saws and hammers. Saint-Germain tapped on the door, waited, and tapped again, and heard the sound of Hroger's approach. Taking a last look around the street, he caught a glimpse of a man in a wide-brimmed Dutch hat and a simple coat half a block away, but a heavily laden wagon loaded with cut logs came down the street toward the newest buildings, and he lost sight of the fellow.
