The Red Necklace (6 page)

The bed with the sleeping body of the dwarf was only three steps away. Balthazar had begun to edge closer, his growling becoming more insistent.

“You are alone, of course?” asked the count.

“Why, yes, sir.”

“Do you mind if I see what has caught Balthazar’s fancy?” The count moved forward. Now only two steps separated him from the dwarf.

“Please, sir,” pleaded Sido. “I am frightened of dogs, and it is clear that yours does not like me.”

“You have no need to fear Balthazar,” said the count with a smile. “He will not harm you. He only growls at strangers.”

If Count Kalliovski moved one more step, it would all be over. Everything would be discovered. She would be sent back to the convent in disgrace. As for the boy and the dwarf, she hardly dared think about it.

“Please, sir, it is not right or proper for a man to visit a girl’s chamber. The Mother Superior would be shocked to hear of such a thing.” She found to her surprise that she had tears in her eyes. "Please,” she begged again, “don’t let your dog come any nearer.”

The room began to spin and a metallic taste filled Sido’s mouth. She thought she was about to faint. She grabbed at the four-poster bed, holding on to consciousness with all her might.

The count’s voice softened. “My dear child,” he said, “I had no desire to alarm you. You must be faint for lack of food. I will see that some supper is brought up to you straightaway. It is outrageous that you should be so neglected.”

He gave a deep bow and called for Balthazar. “Forgive the intrusion,” he said, closing the door softly behind him.

Sido leaned her head on the bedpost, trying to stop the room from spinning. She remained statue-still, listening to the scratching of claws and the clicking of heels as they retreated into the distance. Only then did she loosen her grip. She sank to the floor, resting her head in her hands, and prayed that Yann would hurry.

Carefully and soundlessly, Yann made his way along the secret passages to the stone staircase and looked over the wrought-iron banister. He caught a glimpse of the kitchens below, saw the doors swing open and shut, heard the clatter of pans and the murmur of voices. A man stood in the stairwell and stamped snow from his boots before disappearing from sight. There must be a door to the outside world there.

He was returning the way he had come when a pinprick of light caught his attention. He looked through the peephole into a grand bedchamber, with huge displays of white tulips and black roses on the table. Maybe it was the flowers, maybe it was the lavishness of the decor, more likely it was the large dog bowl sitting on the floor that told Yann that this was where Count Kalliovski slept.

If nothing else, they were owed the blood money that had been promised to them at the beginning of this nightmare. How would they get back to Paris without a sou to their name?

Yann pushed against the door and slipped inside. An eerie red light shone from the coals in the grate. The walls were painted with hunting scenes that in the spit and hiss of the firelight appeared to be moving. The wooden skull sat on the table beside the vase. It might have been valuable, but he knew also that it was cursed, and would bring whoever took it nothing but bad luck. Next to it was a necklace—a bloodred ribbon with seven crimson stones set into it. Without thinking, he put it in his pocket. It would be something to show Têtu.

He began to search the room for money.

This is what Yann knew, what he had always known: All objects, great and small, have a spirit. Sometimes, if you listen carefully, you can almost hear the sound they make.

Hidden deep in among the drapes of the bed was a purse. Yann picked it up and put it in his pocket, where it felt pleasingly heavy. Now he had to get out of here as fast as he could.

Sido hadn’t dared move since the count had left. Yann found her still sitting on the floor, her head in her hands. She looked up at him.

“Where have you been? Count Kalliovski was here.”

“It took longer than I thought. We’ll be gone in a minute.” He went straight to the bed and pulled back the covers. “Wake up,” he said gently, shaking Têtu back into life as he helped him to his feet. He was pleased to see that the dwarf’s eyes were purple-black once more and his skin no longer pale.

“Where am I?” said Têtu, who for a moment thought that he must have woken from a bad dream. Yann said something to him in a language Sido had never heard before. Têtu gulped as the memory of what had happened came back to him.

Yann turned back to look at Sido, sitting crumpled and abandoned on the floor, and for a moment he had an overwhelming desire to take her with them, to save her from being one of the headless ones.

There was a knock at the door. Sido scrambled to her feet. Quickly Yann and the dwarf disappeared behind the screen and through the panel, sliding it back into place just as the count entered, followed by a footman carrying a tray with Sido’s supper. This time the dog at the count’s heels was silent. The tray was laid before her. The sight of the food made her mouth water. Eat slowly, she said to herself. Don’t rush.

The count’s eyes darted around the room as he ordered the footman to straighten out the bed.

“There is no need,” said Sido quickly.

"Continue,” said the count smoothly, addressing the footman. Balthazar had begun sniffing the air.

“I hope you don’t mind if I keep you company while you dine?”

Sido knew that the longer he stayed, the longer the dwarf and the boy had to make their escape.

“I would like that,” she said.

Count Kalliovski sat down on a chair by the bed. The dog at his feet let out a heavy sigh and, putting his head on his outstretched paws, closed his eyes.

“I think your dog is more used to me now,” said Sido.

“So it seems. When you have finished, I will take you down to see the fireworks. Your father assures me that they will be magnificent.”

Sido watched the count as with hooded eyes he searched the room once more, looking for evidence to confirm his suspicions. In the quicksilver candlelight he made a menacing figure, and she knew then that he was no friend. Her instinct told her that there was no escape: This dark spider was waiting patiently to catch her in his gold-spun web.

chapter seven

The kitchens of the château were busy. Even after the main banquet had been served there was more than enough to do. The gambling tables demanded a constant supply of drinks and
petits fours
. Jean Rollet, the chef, and his staff would be working all night until the very last guest had left or retired. The arrival of two more in the kitchen went almost unnoticed except as extra pairs of hands to help.

“Hey, you there, lackey,” a valet shouted at Yann, “the viscount needs this tray taken up to him at once.”

Yann shook his head. “We are the entertainers, hired for the count’s show. We need to get back to Paris tonight.”

The valet threw up his hands in disgust. “What are you doing in here, then?”

Yann felt bewildered. He had never been in such a large kitchen before, with servants running backward and forward, the chef swearing and stamping his foot, bells ringing, the noise, the smells, the heat. It was like a furnace.

Têtu started to sway. He was going to fall over if he didn’t sit down. Yann grabbed a stool.

“No you don’t,” said one of the cooks, snatching it back and lifting her wooden spoon as if it were a weapon. “Away with you, Gypsies.”

“We have to get back to Paris.”

“Well, what are you doing asking me? Do I look as if I have a magic carpet?” Then, seeing the state of Têtu, she softened. “You’d better go and ask the coachmen in there.”

Yann helped Têtu through the kitchen to a small antechamber where a group of men were sitting at a table, their plates wiped clean, their glasses full.

“My friend needs to sit down,” said Yann, and one of the men pulled out a chair for him.

“He don’t look too perky. What’s wrong with him?”

“We need help. Are any of you Paris-bound tonight?”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” said one of the men, pushing his chair back and lighting his pipe. “With luck, they’ll be playing cards till dawn and then some.”

Suddenly Yann felt as if he had hit a wall. He had gotten this far without being discovered, and now, just when there seemed hope that they might escape, all was lost. Time was slipping away from him; he knew it would not be long before the count found out about the secret passages.

“Here,” said a man with a shining bald head, pouring some wine from a large clay pitcher into a glass. “Give this to Titch. He looks as if he could do with it.”

“Thank you,” said Yann, helping Têtu with the wine. Slowly he began to look more like his old self.

“Has he always been that small, or will he grow?” asked the bald-headed man, laughing.

If Yann had been given a gold coin every time he had heard Têtu insulted they would be rich by now. Still, it riled him as it always did to hear his friend slighted, though he knew better than to react.

A footman opened the door and poked his head around. “The Viscomtess de Lisle will be staying.”

“Good to know it,” said her coachman. “First sensible thing the old bat’s done in ages.”

“You think so?” laughed the footman. “Well, she wants her pet monkey brought back from Paris. She thinks it’ll be lonely. It’s not your night, Dufort, my old friend.”

“Hasn’t she seen the snow outside?” said Dufort, gesturing toward the window.

“That’s why she wants her monkey.”

“Oh well,” sighed Dufort, "here we go again. Doubt I’ll make it back before tomorrow. Tell you this much,” he muttered into the last dregs of his wine, “one day I’ll be my own master. No more of this come here, go there, lucky-to-have-a-job nonsense.”

All the men laughed. “You know what you can do?” said the bald-headed one. “Write all your grievances out and send them to the king.”

“That’s a good one,” said his friend, slapping him on the back. “Maybe the king will be able to get her to behave.”

Everyone burst out laughing, everyone except Dufort, who looked furious as he pulled on his heavy coat, loath to be leaving the warmth and comfort of the kitchens.

“To make matters worse, the roads aren’t safe these days, what with all the bandits and brigands, and she’s too mean to pay for a lackey to help,” he grumbled.

Yann seized his chance. “We will keep you company,” he said.

“What, take a couple of Gypsies like you? Forget it.”

Têtu, now able to walk unaided, followed Yann back through the kitchens past a rack of freshly baked bread that was cooling from the ovens. With the swiftness of hand that takes a lifetime to master, he took two of the loaves and hid them in his topcoat before making his way out into the snowy courtyard.

“It’s no good you two following me,” said Dufort. “I’m not taking you and that’s final.”

“Would money change your mind?” asked Yann.

“Would the man in the moon giving me a silver eye make me think different? Of course it would. It ain’t going to happen, though.”

Yann, as if from thin air, conjured up five coins and handed one of them to Dufort. He looked at it carefully, then put it in his mouth and gave it a good bite to check its worth. He didn’t know what to make of this strange pair, the street urchin and the little fellow with the girly, squeaky voice.

“Where did you get this kind of money?” he said.

“We were brought here from a Paris theater to entertain the guests. We’re magicians. We were paid handsomely for our trouble,” said Têtu.

“Then where’s your driver, Titch?”

“We can’t find him. He must have left earlier to avoid the worst of the weather.”

“We were held up,” added Yann quickly, “because my friend was feeling unwell.” He knew that Dufort was wavering between doubt and the certainty of the coin that he held in his hand. “I’ll give you this now and as much again when we reach the city. Is that fair?”

“All right,” said Dufort reluctantly, “as long as you don’t tell anyone. The old bat’s most particular about who is allowed in her carriage. Monkeys yes, dwarfs and dogs no.”

The coachman led the way across the yard to the marquis’s stables. They were the height of luxury. He might not have cared much for his servants or his daughter, but the marquis’s horses were a different matter altogether. He liked them to be well looked after. He had a notion that after his death he might be born again as a fine stallion, in which case the marquis wanted to be housed here with crystal chandeliers to illuminate his hay, and underground heating to warm his hooves.

“Look at that,” said Dufort. “His tenants live in hovels with barely enough to eat and the horses live like lords. It makes my blood boil, it does.”

He opened the door of the carriage and let Têtu in. “If you don’t mind, I’d like the boy to ride with me and keep an eye out for thieves. When we’re near Paris, I’ll lock you both into the carriage. Don’t want the riffraff trying to hitch a ride, do we?”

He handed Yann a heavy coat to wear. It nearly drowned him. “Always keep two handy, in case of rain.”

It was a small carriage with two young horses to pull it, both of whom seemed high-strung and reluctant to leave the warmth of the stable. Finally, with much urging, they made their way down the avenue of trees whose branches were full of little lights that twinkled like stars. Beyond the estate lay a vast black abyss, waiting to swallow them up.

“I hate driving at night,” said Dufort miserably, his breath coming out of him in a foggy mist. “It gives me the creeps.”

The darkness had never bothered Yann, especially not tonight. There was safety in a starless sky.

“We may be less than four leagues from the city, and this may well be the best road France has to offer, but with no moon . . . Ah, what’s that?”The coachman flinched as the sky above the château erupted with the sound of fireworks. They exploded into the darkness, painting patterns of light in the shape of stars, serpents, comets, and chrysanthemums. It was an astounding sight in this landscape of ice and snow.