The Mystic Marriage (54 page)

Even before he’d finished speaking, Jeanne found her mind measuring the likely reception, selecting a venue and thinking of other performers who might set off such a talent. “A challenge indeed.” He’d succeeded in distracting her and for that she was grateful.

The last strains of the cotillion had faded away and the musicians had struck up a promenade introducing the next set. Chanturi lifted her hand to his lips, saying, “And now, my dear, if you haven’t forgotten how, would you favor me with a dance? I make it a rule always to dance with the most enchanting woman in the
salle
.”

“Flatterer!” she teased, allowing herself to be led out to the forming set.

* * *

The workings were more complex now with half the stones completed and only a few layers left to add on those remaining. The roles had strained their limits today, even with the addition of the Perneld girl and with Barbara pulled in for symmetry. But the salamander had been roused and bled, the lion had devoured the sun and the king and queen wed under the sign of the pavonade and now two sets of stones were safely aligned in the furnace. They had been beautiful: one with a ruby core glowing under layers of sapphire and beryl, the other shimmering with a hoarfrost of emerald. She had learned enough of the symbols to tell that tonight’s ferment would cover them over with pure crystal. The next process would cloak the bright colors with lesser material that could not withstand the forces that had created the gemstone cores: sard, onyx, jargoon. Then at last the cutting and polishing would reveal the brilliant hearts again. How that could be done was a mystery, but it was the ordinary mechanical mystery of Monterrez’s craft. Four identical stones were made in each batch in expectation that half would fail in the finishing. Those remaining would be destroyed. It seemed a great waste but Antuniet thought it too much a risk to keep them. The layered gems were too closely aligned. Twin might call to twin with unknown effect. Only one must be left to do its work.

Anna and Valeir Perneld had been sent home already and the men were rousting the armins from their eternal game of cards in the alcove by the door. Jeanne didn’t hear the sound of the knock and looked over only when she heard Elin’s frightened voice exclaiming, “Oh! Forgive me. I didn’t mean to disturb—”

“It makes no mind,” Efriturik could be heard to assure her. “We’ve finished. You’re here to see Mesnera de Cherdillac?”

This was no social call—one look from Elin to Iaklin made that clear. Jeanne hurried over to where they still hung back in the doorway. “What’s to do?”

Elin glanced doubtfully at the men but Iaklin blurted out, “Have you seen Tio today? Has she come by?”

“Tio?” Jeanne said. “Good heavens no! Why would she have come here? I haven’t seen her since the Alboris’ ball. Shouldn’t she have been attending on Princess Elisebet today?”

“No, the princess is away from town until tomorrow. Tio came by this morning and then said she was going visiting, but I just thought…I hoped…” Elin’s voice faltered and Jeanne wanted to shake her.

Iaklin once again filled the gap. “Aukustin’s gone missing.”

That brought all ears in the room to attention except for Antuniet, who pointedly continued setting the jars of minerals in order. Efriturik was the first to speak. “Missing? Or is this just another of his mother’s freaks? No, Mesnera—” to Elin “—you needn’t look at me like that. I know what lies your mistress tells of me. But is there true reason for concern or are you only frightened for your position?”

Barbara followed on quickly with, “Have you sent for his mother?”

Elin quaked visibly. “No. She’ll know soon enough when she returns, but we need to find him before she hears he was gone. If Mesnera Sain-Mazzi hadn’t gone with her, we wouldn’t even have that reprieve.”

“And what have you done?” Efriturik’s questions came hard on each other’s heels. “Where have you looked? Where might he have gone?”

Jeanne could see that hysterics were near. She took Elin and Iaklin each by an arm and led them a few steps away from the others. “From the beginning.”

It came out in a confused counterpoint. Chustin had taken to his room after breakfast, saying he was feeling poorly and didn’t want to be disturbed. No one had questioned it until well past dinner and then he was nowhere to be found. One of the gardeners said he thought he’d seen the boy leaving with his tutor, but Maistir Chautovil had left town for a few days as well. “And then I remembered something Tio had said and sent for Maisetra Silpirt—” Elin started, with Iaklin continuing, “—and I thought of that masquerade of Tio’s at Carnival.”

Yes, that dashing young man she’d played at impersonating.

Margerit chimed in on the tale. “Aukustin was mad to see the ships down at the wharves. And I remember Tio telling us she’d helped him sneak out at least once.”

There was a long moment of silence broken only by the low crackle of the furnace and the steady click of the clockwork drive. “She wouldn’t!” Efriturik said in disbelief.

“She would,” Jeanne countered with a sinking heart. It was exactly the sort of foolish trick that would appeal to her.

Iaklin wailed, “She’ll be ruined! She can’t keep this one secret, not now.”

Barbara said what they all feared to think. “Ruined? She’ll be lucky if she isn’t dead, or worse. They only need to stray a few streets away from the Nikuleplaiz and the Strangers Market to fall into more trouble than she could imagine. If they haven’t returned by now…”

“Or been pressed.” It was Margerit’s armin. Jeanne had rarely heard him offer more than a few words at a time. When all eyes turned to him, he continued, “The barges need extra hands for the stretch down to Iser. It happens all the time. A few likely lads get lured on board, then offered a place on the poles as the only way to earn their way home. If they were down at the wharves showing an interest in the ships, that’s where I’d put my money.”

“No,” Efriturik said, still doubting. “Perhaps no one would recognize my cousin, but all Mesnera Perzin need do is tell them who he is. It makes no sense.”

“It makes no sense to a man,” Jeanne said briskly. “But if Tio’s discovered after all this, it isn’t only her good name that’s ruined. There’s her husband’s career, and no doubt the position of anyone thought to have helped her.” She looked pointedly at Elin. “She might easily think her only hope is to bluff it through.”

While they’d been debating, Barbara had begun to take action, sending her armin for the carriages and barking orders at the rest of them like a tyrannical housekeeper to the underservants. Only Efriturik bristled at the treatment. “Have a care, Saveze! You aren’t the only person in Rotenek capable of saving a reputation!”

And what is the story behind that?
Jeanne wondered.
What has she done to step on his toes?

Barbara stiffened in turn but her response was more mild. “What part do you prefer to take?”

He was taken aback, as if expecting a duel of wills. The edge of challenge in his voice retreated. “You know the wharves. Do you truly think they’ve been tricked on board and taken?”

Jeanne could see hope and truth warring in Barbara’s face. “An even chance, I think. Better than even if nothing worse happened.”

Efriturik nodded. “Then I’m for Iser. Charlin?”

His friend nodded grimly. “The moon will be up soon. Iser is closer by the coach road than the river. With a few swift changes of horses we should beat any barge that left after noon. And with that and luck we could bring them back before dawn.” All the ways the plan might fail were left unsaid.

“I’ll cover the Nikuleplaiz and the docks,” Barbara countered. “If there’s news to be found, I’ll follow it.”

Jeanne lingered until the last of the rescuers had scattered to their tasks. The room echoed hollowly as Antuniet made the final adjustments to the furnace mechanism. She had ignored it all. “Toneke?” Jeanne said at last. “Would you come home with me tonight?” Antuniet looked up and hesitated, as if calculating the next day’s tasks against the moment’s desires. It was hard: to lay this need before her after the weeks of setting her desires aside. “I’ll lie awake fretting all night,” Jeanne offered. “It would be easier if you were there.”

“Of course,” Antuniet said, as if there were no question.

But there had been a question. And when they were rolled in each other’s arms later, skin pressed to skin, Antuniet’s lips sought to erase that doubt with fervent hunger. Jeanne longed to respond as the attention deserved but at last she said, “Toneke, just hold me tonight.” She could feel Antuniet stiffen beside her. “No, no, there’s nothing wrong. I’m worried, that’s all.”

“Tio!” Antuniet made it an oath. “What has she ever done to deserve your concern?”

Jeanne rolled the question around in her mind. “She reminds me of myself when I was young.”

Another rude noise cut through the dark. “You were never that selfish or heedless.”

“Oh, but I was. You didn’t know me then; you wouldn’t have been out of the nursery yet.” Jeanne winced at the reminder of the years that stood between them. There was so much of her life that Antuniet didn’t know. “I was so unhappy. And I’d found that virtue paid me no return, so I tried other roads. Tio at least has the grace to know that she has no right to be unhappy. So she walks along the parapet of a bridge, hoping and fearing that she’ll fall into the flood to be swept away.”

There was silence for a time, then Antuniet said, “I nearly threw myself from a bridge once, but I never expected all the world to dive in after me.”

Jeanne turned and buried her face in the angle of Antuniet’s neck. “And yet for your sake, I would have drained the river dry. You needn’t be jealous of her.”

They slept at last. It was still full dark when the distant thud of the knocker broke the night.

Fearing as much as hoping, Jeanne struggled into her chemise and dressing gown while Marien came in with a lamp. “Stay here,” she whispered to Antuniet when she would have risen as well. “I don’t know who it is and there’s no need to add that fuel to the rumors about us.” She bit her lip, recalling that she hadn’t meant to worry Antuniet about the gossip.

Tomric was before her to the door. She hadn’t thought to warn him, but he’d had sense enough not to keep the unexpected visitors waiting on the stoop. Jeanne hurried down the last few steps and rushed to throw her arms around the slight figure wrapped in an oversized greatcoat. “Tio! You’re safe!”

She was answered by a muffled sobbing against her shoulder. Jeanne looked past to the second figure in the doorway. “Mesner Mainek, what of—”

“The other wanderer is safe too,” he said. “Efriturik took Aukustin to the palace. Vicomtesse…see to it that your friend is known to have been in Rotenek yesterday and this night. In Rotenek and in your company.”

Jeanne’s mind leaped past his words to their meaning. “So Efriturik is to take the blame?”

A nod. “I’ll leave you now and take the news to Saveze. Say as little as you can manage until the smoke has cleared and we can see what fires still need to be quenched.”

“Thank you,” she said to his departing back.

With the door closed again, she gave Tionez a shake. “Enough tears. We have work to do if you mean to keep your reputation from tatters. Marien, could you go ask Maisetra Chazillen to come down? And Tomric, some tea in the breakfast room, if you can.”

There was at least an hour before dawn and she intended to have a plan by then.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Barbara

Looking back, Barbara was grateful that the threatening storm had waited until after their late-night adventure to begin in earnest. Snow had started falling in the afternoon and by the next morning lay heavily on the cobbled streets and drifted against house walls. Though it continued to fall, Brandel returned from his early-morning expedition across to the stables with the news that there was no reason their ride need be postponed.

She smiled at the enthusiasm of youth. “I’ll hold to my promise,” she told him, “but not so far as we’d planned. Just out the Port Ausiz to the fairgrounds. That will be far enough for the horses to settle down and sufficient space for your lessons.”

Even that shortened plan seemed doomed when a liveried messenger appeared just as the household was dispersing to the day’s plans. He presented a crisp note sealed with a simple but unmistakable “AA.” So. No need to guess what it was about.

Barbara looked up from the unfolded paper to Brandel’s disappointed face. “My promise must be postponed, I fear. Or—” She looked to where Tavit stood waiting. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to cede your place to Brandel this once? We’re only going to the palace so it would all be kicking your heels in the galleries in any event.”

Tavit bowed slightly. “As you wish, Mesnera.” It was only the dignity of rank that called for attendance there at all.

“Go change your coat, Brandel. Quickly. The good one.”

She calculated her appearance. With the streets in unknown state it still made sense to ride rather than to bring out the carriage, but perhaps a proper habit rather than breeches. She could only guess what Annek’s mood might be.

The ride over was a litany of instruction, until Brandel seemed petrified at the responsibilities of his post. Good. Mistakes were harder to correct than overformality. She left him waiting in the long gallery with strict orders to speak to no one unless addressed and to assume that anyone who did so was a
mesner
unless told otherwise.

She was ushered into the small, dark-paneled parlor: the one Annek used for private business, though that meant nothing in itself. After the briefest glance of acknowledgment, Annek continued reviewing the papers handed to her one by one by the dark-suited secretary who stood at her side. Barbara composed her mind to read nothing into the wait. She had learned that game from the old baron. There had been times when he had kept her standing for an hour until he deigned to give instructions. From what she knew of Annek, this was no game of wills, only the tedious ordering of a busy schedule. But she had no doubt of its effectiveness on those less accustomed to patience. The secretary was sent away at last, confirming that this was to be private business.