Flight Into Darkness (57 page)

And then she sensed that she was not alone; there was someone else in the room. All too late, the Faie woke within her, whispering,
“Kaspar Linnaius.
”

The Magus stood on the threshold. “I bring an invitation from the Emperor,” he said and held out a sealed letter.

Her mind went blank with panic. He must have come to take his revenge. And she was trapped, with no means of escape. “You're alive?”

“So it seems. Please, take the letter.”

“F—from the Emperor?”

“Signed and sealed by his imperial highness himself,” he said, showing her the Rossiyan imperial seal. It looked authentic enough, yet a magus of Linnaius's skill and ingenuity could easily have faked it.

She took it from him and, breaking the purple wax, hastily read the contents. It was an invitation for Celestine de Joyeuse and her
accompanist to perform at Swanholm, with a letter of safe passage enclosed, signed and authorized by the Emperor's personal secretary.

“What does this mean?” She was still shaken by his unexpected appearance. “Why would the Emperor invite me to Tielen? Especially when I've caused him so much trouble?”

“There are others at the court in Tielen who are eager to see you again, Celestine,” he said enigmatically. Celestine could not read what lay behind those chill silver eyes.

“But the singer known as Celestine de Joyeuse is dead. She had to die.”

“That's all well and good as long as your guardian spirit is able to disguise your identity. But she's growing weaker, isn't she?”

How could he tell?
Celestine stared at the Magus, forgetting her earlier caution. His incisive gaze pierced through her, penetrating deep into her mind. She gasped—and at the same moment sensed the Faie repel the Magus's invasion. He staggered, his eyes clouding, one wrinkled hand rising to protect himself.

“Weaker, but not so weak yet that she can't still defend herself against an inquisitive old magus,” he said wryly. “All these years you've been hiding her. And now she's become too much a part of you for you to let her go. Or… is it the other way, perhaps, Lady Azilis?”

Celestine was so surprised by the blatant challenge that she could not reply.

“You might as well reveal yourself fully to me, my lady.” Ice-silver eyes gleamed in the dim light.

“You mustn't trust him,”
whispered the Faie.
“He's come to take me from you.
”

“I give you my word that I won't attempt to steal you again.” Linnaius was staring at Celestine so intently that she realized he was looking not at her, but through her, his chill gaze penetrating her disguise to where the Faie had concealed herself. “But I beg you, Lady Azilis, to consider returning to Ondhessar. The balance between this world and the next is slowly disintegrating. Revenants have been seen—lost souls who have drifted back to this world because they can't find their path to the Ways Beyond.”

“Revenants,” Celestine echoed, remembering the sad, lost shadow of her first love that had returned to haunt her. “If my Faie is Azilis, then I have no right to keep her all to myself.”

“
I cannot return. I'm bound to protect Celestine.
”

“You were bound to protect this child… yet you may be using up too much of her life force to replenish your own failing powers.”

“
I cannot break that bond.”

“But you can break it at any time, can't you, Celestine?”

Celestine did not reply. Thoughts were chasing through her mind. It would take only one drop of her blood to break the contract…

“The Emperor is offering you protection of a different kind. A full pardon, his patronage, and a new life in Tielen. The Empress is very fond of you, you know.”

“The Emperor is most generous.” Celestine felt herself wavering, genuinely tempted. She and Jagu had not planned where to go once they left Muscobar, but with the Emperor's protection, they would be able to start a new life in Tielen, far from the clutches of the Inquisition.

“This safe passage is all you'll need. Believe me, Celestine, if you could only bring yourself to put your trust in me…”

“Trust you, Kaspar Linnaius? A week ago, I'd have laughed at such a suggestion. Now I don't know whom to trust anymore.”

“I would tell you more, but his imperial highness has sworn me to secrecy.”

Celestine still could not look directly into those chill silver eyes; every time she tried, she felt as if she were standing alone on a bare hilltop, surrounded by racing stormclouds, buffeted by fierce winds that stripped away all her defenses.

“If you're ready to leave now, I can take you to Swanholm.”

“Or Ondhessar?” she said.

“Ondhessar?” the Magus repeated in surprised tones.

“Celestine…
” whispered the Faie.
“Please let me stay with you a little longer.
”

“I understand now, Faie,” she said. “The souls of the dead need you to sing for them. They need you so much more than I do. Can you take us to Ondhessar, Magus?”

A strange smile passed fleetingly across his face. “Yes. Although I still have enemies in Ondhessar. I need a little time to plan my strategy.”

“I need time to make arrangements too. I can't just disappear without telling Jagu.”

“Then let's agree to complete our plans when you reach Swanholm.”

And he was gone before she could ask any more questions, leaving her holding the letter of safe passage.

Suddenly she felt so faint that she had to sit down. “Look at me, Faie, I'm shaking!” She touched the smooth waxen sheen of the imperial seal. How ironic that Eugene should be the one to offer them a safe haven.

Celestine handed over her key to the landlady and said good-bye to the cats. Then she walked to the square, hailed a carriage, and instructed the driver to take her to the Francian Embassy. As they rattled away, she took one last look back at the Imperial Theater, smiling as she remembered Grebin's parting words.

“Oh, I intend to come back,” she said. That brief taste of the heady pleasures of performing onstage had given her a craving for more. But not yet; she was far more eager to see Jagu again and tell him the astonishing news. She checked again to make sure that the precious letter of safe passage was still in her reticule.

Alighting outside the embassy, she hurried up the steps to be admitted by Claude.

“Has Lieutenant de Rustéphan arrived yet?” she asked breathlessly.

“No, Demoiselle. But the ambassador has received a communication for you. If you would follow me…” Claude's haughty expression gave nothing away as he showed her into Fabien d'Abrissard's study.

What manner of communication? Perhaps Jagu had been delayed.

“This is addressed to you, Celestine.” The ambassador rose to greet her, holding out a letter. She opened it and read:

We have arrested your accomplice, Jagu de Rustéphan. He will be executed for crimes against the state unless you give yourself up to Francian justice. You have one month in which to return to Lutèce to answer the charges against you.

“They've taken Jagu. They've taken him back to Lutèce!” This was the last thing she had expected. She sat down, the letter clutched in her hand. How had it all gone so wrong? Everything had been settled for the start of their new life together: the Emperor's letter of safe passage to Tielen, the concert plans, Jagu's composition…

“My dear Celestine,” said the ambassador gravely, “you mustn't
even think of going back to Lutèce. The city's in a volatile state. Ilsevir is not popular. He's ordered his Rosecoeurs to stamp out any signs of rebellion or heresy. Aided, of course, by the Inquisition.”

“Kilian.” Celestine stared down at the letter, seeing the black script blur and waver as a teardrop splashed onto the ink. “Kilian, his oldest friend.”
What use is crying?
she told herself angrily.
I have to rescue him.
Yet still the drops continued to fall. She looked up, dashing away the tears. “It's a trap. They've set a trap for me. They knew my weakness—and they're using it to lure me into their clutches.”

“All the more reason not to walk into their trap.”

“But Jagu—”

“I can protect you here in Mirom, but the instant you leave these shores, you'll be fair game for the Inquisition.”

Kaspar Linnaius's accusing words flashed through her memory.

Haven't you been pursuing the wrong man? Shouldn't you be seeking to take revenge on the man who condemned your father to the stake? Alois Visant?

In that one moment, she knew that the time for tears was over. Her chin went up. “I'm going to Swanholm,” she said.

“Monsieur de Corméry, it's so kind of you to take time out of your busy schedule to accompany me to Tielen.” Celestine gave him one of her sweetest smiles.

The young attaché blushed. “It's—it's no trouble at all, Demoiselle, I assure you. Besides, in the circumstances, the ambassador was adamant that you not travel alone, and as I was visiting Tielen on embassy affairs anyway…”

In truth, Celestine was genuinely grateful to have his company to distract her from her gloom. It was a terrible risk that she was taking, traveling to Swanholm, using up so many days of her one precious month—at the end of which Jagu would be executed.

She even feared that there might have been Francian agents at the customs house in Mirom, watching out for her. But here they were, safely on board a Tielen vessel, which was sailing slowly down the Nieva toward the Straits, and no one had approached her.

Weariness suddenly overwhelmed her and she felt herself sinking to the deck. She heard Corméry's alarmed cry and felt herself drowning in waves of dizziness.

She came to her senses to find Corméry bending anxiously over
her, dabbing her temples with a balsam-impregnated handkerchief. The strong, sharp scent made her wrinkle her nose and sneeze.

“My dear demoiselle, are you all right? You had me quite worried, fainting so suddenly like that.”

“I fainted?” Celestine made to sit up but her head swam, so she lay back again. “But I
never
faint.” She was disgusted with herself for such a show of weakness. To her embarrassment, she realized that Corméry must have had the sailors carry her belowdecks to her cabin. “It's just that I haven't slept much in the last few days.” She forced herself to sound more confident than she felt. “I'll be fine after a good night's rest.”

“Then I'll leave you to it,” said Corméry, looking a little more relieved. But as soon as he had gone, she closed her eyes and pressed the cold handkerchief to her forehead. She felt as if she were not entirely back in her body. The odd, light-headed sensation, floating between consciousness and unconsciousness, was disturbing.

“Faie,” she called quietly, her eyes closed. “Why am I so weak? Am I ill?”

“
I fear it is all my fault,”
came back the soft reply.
“Kaspar Linnaius was right; your body is not strong enough to sustain the two of us. I am using up too much of your life essence.”

“Too much? But I've never needed your protection more than I do now. How am I to rescue Jagu if you aren't there to help me?”

“
I will return to the book to give your body time to recover.”

Though as the ship reached the open sea, Celestine lay awake long into the night, unable to sleep for the thoughts jostling in her brain. Was Linnaius right after all? Was the Faie putting too much strain on her body every time she used her powers to disguise or defend herself? Or was he just trying to trick her?

“What am I doing here?” Alain Friard wondered as he followed his superior officers into the king's council chamber. He was surprised that the new king had included him in this private meeting, and even more surprised that Hugues Donatien had not tried to prevent him from attending. He slunk in behind Donatien, taking a place at the most obscure end of the council table. Haute Inquisitor Visant sat opposite Girim nel Ghislain, the leader of the Order of the Rosecoeurs. “Gentlemen, we need to convince the people of Francia that you are winning the fight against the forces of evil,” King Ilsevir said as
he took his seat at the head of the table. “We need to restore confidence in the church. Many people saw the Drakhaouls at large in the city. Some are even saying they saw Enguerrand being abducted by a daemon. The general opinion seems to be that the Commanderie is not strong enough to protect Lutèce.”

Visant's secretary was scribbling away busily, taking notes as the king spoke.

“I don't deny that the Commanderie lost the people's confidence when Kaspar Linnaius was rescued from the stake,” said Maistre Donatien. “Too many lives were lost in the panic that day.”

“And since the sordid case of Ruaud de Lanvaux's murder, the Commanderie's reputation has sunk even lower,” observed Visant acidly. Friard wanted to speak up on behalf of his men, but one glance at the king's face told him it was best to keep silent. “Though, if I might make a suggestion… it has come to our attention that there is treachery at the heart of the Commanderie itself. Two of the late Maistre's most trusted agents have betrayed the cause. We have proof. We have witnesses.”

Friard was dreading to hear what was coming next.

“We must root out any sign of treachery, no matter how painful it may be,” said Ilsevir sternly. “Bring these agents in and let them be tried. Who are they?”

“Celestine de Joyeuse,” said Visant, “and Jagu de Rustéphan.”

Friard clenched his fists beneath the table. Two of his most loyal comrades in arms. One by one, all Ruaud's elite squad were being eliminated.

“I know those names…” A faraway look came into Ilsevir's eyes. “The musicians who saved our lives at the opening of the Azilis chapel? Surely you're mistaken, Inquisitor?”

“The evidence against Demoiselle de Joyeuse is too compelling. As for Lieutenant de Rustéphan”—Visant turned to Maistre Donatien— “is there any news yet?”

“When the lieutenant did not report back, I sent Kilian Guyomard to Muscobar to investigate. I'm pleased to report that he has arrested him and is bringing him back to Lutèce by sea.”