Kingdom of Ash and Soot

by C. S. Johnson

  “This is great,” I said, pulling the black greatcoat over my stays. “This is almost as good as my stealth habit. And it fits so well.”

  Lady POW smiled. “I had a feeling it would. You are close to your mother’s size the last time she wore it.”

  My eyes went moist. I felt the soft material surround me in a new way, almost as if I now saw it as my mother’s embrace.

  “Oh, if only Harshad could see you, Eleanor.”

  “Eleanora,” I muttered.

  She waved my correction aside, quickly and meaninglessly apologizing before moving onto the next topic. That was when I realized I had not seen Harshad since the day Lady POW initiated Ben and me into the Order. I wondered why. Maybe it was because he was busy with Ben, or maybe it was because of something Lady POW had said.

  Those seemed like good reasons.

  But why would Lady POW get such delight at the thought of torturing him?

  Eleanor.

  It was jarring to realize Harshad had known my mother, too. If Lady POW was looking at me, and seeing my mother, she knew Harshad would likely see her, too.

  I shuddered inside the large greatcoat. How much did Lady POW have to hate Harshad to enjoy torturing him that way?

  “You will need to make sure you follow my lead when you wear those clothes,” Lady Penelope was saying, as I drifted back into the moment. “Men are different from women in form and function. We walk differently, we carry ourselves differently, we even think differently. And we must adapt if we are to convince others of the truth of our charade.”

  “It’s dark enough out I don’t think people will notice much,” I said.

  “No need to be sloppy about these things, Eleanora.”

  The carriage rolled to a stop in a darkened street, and we alighted into the night.

  Since we were still several blocks away from the church, we made our way through the dark alleys. During this time, Lady POW tutored me on my walk and using my hat and walking stick as a metaphorical sword and shield.

  As a kind of game, I used the stick to hit different piles of garbage until I struck a pile of horse manure. After that, I stopped. I kept my frustration to myself as I watched Lady POW lead the way. I saw the twin hilts of her crystal daggers sticking out by her side.

  Our earlier debate, just before we left the Hohenwart Ball, momentarily slipped back into my thoughts. I hope she doesn’t think she made a mistake in allowing me to join the Order.

  “I checked into your earlier information,” Lady Penelope said. “You were right. Dr. Artha was last seen coming out of this church. But he has been a patron of St. Nicolas for years.”

  “It is possible he was meeting someone here,” I said. “He seems to have a lot of friends who are not members of St. Nicholas.”

  “That is correct. He was meeting with Father Novak, who is now dead.”

  I said nothing. It was slowly dawning on me that Lady Penelope was comfortable with death and other uncomfortable topics, and if I wanted to prove myself to her, I would have to become accustomed to them, too.

  That did not mean, of course, that I had to approve of them.

  “Here we are,” Lady Penelope called, as I attempted to fling the manure off the stick. “The Church of Our Lady of the Snows.”

  I looked at the building, marveling at its construction. It was constructed over two hundred years before, and its beauty was restored over the various generations.

  “Admiring the scene, are you?”

  “Hey!” I whirled around, and there was Ben, standing right behind me. “You scared me.”

  “Eleanora, hush. And Benedict, control yourself. This is no time to scare your sister.”

  “Apologies, Madame,” Ben muttered. It was a little unnerving how much he sounded like Lady POW when she apologized to me for calling me by my mother’s name.

  “I don’t even know how I missed your approach,” I grumbled.

  Ben pointed down at his misshapen leg, where I saw the gleam of new metal brackets sticking out from the bottom of his breeches. “Between my mechanical skills and Amir’s knowledge of anatomy, we were able to design a new brace that’s much more light and quiet than my previous ones. It’s still a little harder for me to move around than others, but I am improving.”

  “Well, if anyone is up for a harder task, it’s you,” I said.

  “I would say the same of you,” Ben whispered, and I marveled at his genuine cheerfulness. I was glad it had nothing to do with keeping our stepsiblings in line or pilfering pastries from the kitchen.

  “Mademoiselle.”

  I looked over to see Amir as he came up beside the rest of us. As my gaze met his, all the hardness of his face from our previous meeting melted away, and a look of frightful terror took its place. “What is it?”

  He seemed to realize he was staring and quickly lowered his gaze. “Lady Eleanora.” He quickly gave me a proper bow.

  I curtsied in return, before I remembered I was supposed to be acting like a man. I attempted a bow instead. “Mr. Qureshi.”

  My voice was dull and hard, and Amir seemed grateful for the reminder that I disliked him.

  “Amir, I am waiting,” Lady Penelope called.

  Amir nodded and began talking to her at once, making me scowl. I had wanted to remind him of his promise to me.

  I nudged Ben. “Where’s Harshad?” I asked. “Is he here, too?”

  “No, he’s not. He does not go with Amir when I am here. He says Amir draws too much attention as it is, and with my limp, we are already having trouble blending in. He goes by himself if he wants to make rounds.”

  “Oh.” I wondered if Harshad was telling Ben the truth. “I thought maybe he was avoiding us. He doesn’t seem to like us that much.”

  At Ben’s sudden grimace, I frowned. “You’re hiding something. Tell me.”

  Ben sighed. “He is not happy about having to train you. I overheard him arguing with Lady POW over it. That’s actually why she probably brought you from your ball, since he is refusing to do anything for now.”

  “What?” Anger burst through me. “So he’s not going to train me? How can I do a good job at this stuff if someone isn’t going to teach me?”

  “Calm down.” Ben glanced over at the others. “This is business, Nora, and if it’s one thing you should know from watching Lady POW by now, it’s that business does not mean people need to get along to work together.”

  I snorted. “That’s true. But still, Harshad can’t just deny me the right to—”

  “Eleanora. Benedict. This way,” Lady Penelope called. “We are going to inspect the body.”

  “We can talk about it later.” As Amir led the way into the side of the church, Ben gave me a smirk. “I don’t know what is stranger, seeing you in a lady’s gown or a gentleman’s clothes.”

  “Hush, Ben.” I smiled at his teasing, but I was still upset hearing Harshad did not want to teach me. What kind of person wanted his colleagues to fail? How could I trust him after hearing this?

  How could I really trust any of them?

  Lady Penelope changed from leader to grandmother and back again when it suited her. Harshad was aloof and distant, and even Amir had been careful to avoid me for the last week since our meeting in the library.

  Walking behind them, I studied Lady POW and Amir.

  What reason do I really have to trust them at all? I thought.

  I glanced over at Ben, and suddenly I had an answer. Despite the darkness of our mission, my brother had lost the desire for pleasure in the pursuit of purpose. I thought about the past few days where we had quietly exchanged updates, discussing everything from Lady POW’s too-literal translation of a Hungarian vendor’s cursing to Harshad’s questions.

  Ben not only seemed more alive, he was a better man.

  I knew I could risk trusting Lady POW and her cohorts for a little longer if it made Ben happy. If he trusted them, I knew I could trust them, too.

  “You should prepare yourself,” Ben said. �
��This is going to be unpleasant for you. It’s nothing like my other ventures into the city with Amir.”

  From our stolen moments of brief conversation over the past week, I knew Amir had been taking him to meet with runners and traders recently; Ben had mostly been meeting with people who bought and sold information as much as goods or services around Prague. I doubted he had come across a murder since he had been exploring the city at night.

  “Half of what I have been doing is smiling and nodding and laughing at things that are not funny,” I said. I decided not to tell Ben about Ferdy. Karl’s amorous interest alone would be enough to get my brother riled, I thought.

  “You sound jealous.”

  “Well, I am, even if you are forced to work with Amir.”

  “Amir’s not so bad, Nora. You might actually like him if you gave him a chance.”

  Amir and Harshad could not be that different. I wrinkled my nose. “I doubt it.”

  “Don’t be so stubborn,” Ben said. “He’s really smart, and he has a good sense of humor. And he knows where all the best food is in Prague.”

  “Oh, so that’s why you like him. Well, in that case—”

  “You two need to keep it down,” Lady Penelope hissed, as we walked through the winding hallways under the chapel.

  “We’re almost there,” Amir said, leading us up a small staircase before entering main chapel.

  Flickering lights greeted us as we made our way through the large chapel. The beautiful vaulted ceiling crisscrossed above us as I looked to the altar with wonder. The contrasting shine of gold and black on the portal spoke of so much more than worldly worship, calling back to the ancient battle of good and evil, and the resounding reward only goodness brought.

  “This place is magnificent,” I whispered.

  “Yes,” Lady Penelope agreed. “It is too bad Father Novak died in here. But then, perhaps it was a good place for such a fate. One last glimpse of worldly beauty, and then death’s release.”

  I looked over at her, shocked by the simple horror of her words.

  But then I looked past her; a limp body was lying at her feet, half-hidden behind the confessionals. The gray-streaked hair covering the sides of his head fluttered softly at our arrival, as our small group surrounded his prostrate form.

  Amir knelt down at his feet. “He was sitting in the booth as he died. I pulled him out to examine him.”

  “It doesn’t look like murder,” I said. I stared down at the dead man, taking in the sad details of his form as I contemplated his fate. I felt a tenderness for the man, for even though I had never met him, I wondered at the sadness of dying alone. “There’s no blood and no wound.”

  Táta’s death was similar, I remembered. He died in his study, sitting at his desk, with his cup of wine from dinner still half-full. Dr. Artha had been called at once, and Ben later told me that he said Táta had likely died from a fit of apoplexy.

  “You are correct,” Amir said, surprising me. “But that does not mean it wasn’t. Look at the tips of his fingers and the corners of his mouth. You’ll see there is a small, blue tint, and it is a simple explanation.”

  Lady POW sighed. “Poison.”

  I looked over at Ben, who was staring at the body with his mouth gaping open in silence.

  Amir sighed. “From the blue markings, it is safe to say it contained elements of the silver thallis. Likely a hefty dose, too, if it’s effects are already showing up on the corpse.”

  “Are you sure?” Lady Penelope asked.

  “Yes. Xiana taught me well.”

  “Who is Xiana?” I asked, desperate to find anything that would keep me from shuddering. If Harshad did not want to teach me, it did nothing for me to show my weakness in other areas.

  “One of the Order’s other members. She is a trained herbalist who studied under Harshad. I know it will be a few weeks before she arrives.”

  “She might be too late,” Lady Penelope said. “Poison, especially of this sort, is powerful. We can have Xiana mix an antidote when she gets here. I will have Harshad send her a telegram. If anyone can reach her, it will be him.”

  “Why, though?” I asked. “Why would someone kill him? Was Father Novak the one that Dr. Artha met with before he wound up dead, too?”

  “From what one of the altar boys was able to tell me, he was,” Amir said. “And that means trouble. Father Novak was one of our regular informants. He knew of the Order of the Crystal Daggers, just like Dr. Artha.”

  “That is not good news,” Lady Penelope said. “That gives the murderer another motive.”

  “It does?” I asked.

  Lady Penelope ignored my question. “Do we have time to search the church? I know the other monks and priests have given us a small block of time before they will need to summon the city authorities and see about disposing of the body.”

  Lady POW began searching through the priest’s pockets. As Amir began to search the nearby confessionals, I turned to see Ben was still staring at Father Novak’s body.

  “What is it, Ben?” I asked quietly. “Are you well? You’re the one who warned me it would be unpleasant.”

  “I thought it would be hard to see it,” he said slowly, “because I am not used to death. But ... I recognize this.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “His blue fingertips,” Ben said. “The small tinges around his mouth. I saw the same things on Otec’s body at the funeral.”

  “What are you ... ” My voice trailed off as I remembered that moment, at Táta’s funeral, where I had seen the bluish skin of his fingers and the azure veins of his knuckles. I looked down at the dead reverend, seeing the evidence of his death in a new light.

  “You know what I am talking about, don’t you?” Ben asked.

  I nodded slowly. “Do you think ... does this mean ... ?” I looked at Ben, unable to finish my sentence, though I was unable to say if it was due to shock or rage.

  “I think so,” Ben said. “Otec was poisoned.”

  “But why? And by who?” I was not able to stop looking at the poisoned priest. I watched through half-glazed eyes as Lady POW picked up his fallen rosary. “Do you think it was by the same person?”

  “It is possible, but doubtful,” Lady Penelope said, as she took hold of the large printed Bible beside the priest.

  I gripped Ben’s arm, though whether it was for his comfort or my own, I could not say. “What does this mean?”

  “It means,” Lady Penelope said, standing up and wiping her hands off on a handkerchief, “that this goes back much further and deeper than Queen Victoria suspected. If it goes back as far as your father’s death, this is a political coup.”

  “No political party advocates for killing priests,” I said. “Dr. Artha was a good man, too. The Federalists and Nationalists both agreed he was a good man.”

  “A good man is nothing compared to a man who will get you what you want.”

  “Well,” I said, “at least there will be no way for someone to blame the Jews for this one.”

  “The Jews make a good political scapegoat, because there are plenty who would believe the worst of them,” Amir said, as he came out of one of the confession booths. “I do not think this was a calculated death. Father Novak was collateral.”

  “So someone decided to kill him after Dr. Artha’s death,” Ben said.

  “Good, Benedict. I agree.” Lady POW nodded. “Dr. Artha’s death was intentional. If it was poison, and one that he would have been familiar with, that is why he was stabbed.”

  “It could also be a strategy of misdirection,” Amir said. “If a priest were to die with the same circumstances as the other politicians, it would likely reveal too much about the murderer’s intent. Because we can link Father Novak with Dr. Artha, we are better able to discern their intent.”

  “Not to mention their identities,” I added.

  “Yes,” Amir agreed. “Misdirection can be a powerful tool. Especially if this is something that goes back more than te
n years. And it looks like it might.”

  “What did you find, Amir?” Lady Penelope asked.

  Amir handed her a small note. “Father Novak had Dr. Artha’s last message tucked away. Here you are, Madame.”

  Lady Penelope tore open the note and read it. Her eyes shifted along with the script, and I waited for her to react. She went still.

  “What does it say?” Ben asked.

  When Lady POW said nothing, Ben jerked the paper out of her hands. “It’s in French,” he said. “I can’t read it.”

  “Let me look,” I said.

  Lady POW regained her composure. “I warned her. I warned her something like this would happen if she decided to stay.”

  I glanced down at the paper, looking over the words. “She?”

  “It’s a quick note. Translated, it read, ‘Sent for the Light, made arrangements with my sweet Míra,’” Lady Penelope read. “It also mentions he is praying for protection and hopes this note is an unnecessary precaution.”

  “It is unfortunate for him that proved not to be the case,” Ben said sadly, looking down at the corpse again.

  “But not for us,” Amir said. “He made arrangements.”

  “And Lady Penelope knows who it is.” I turned to see her angrily pacing once more. I had seen this expression on her before, when she was facing unavoidable inconveniences.

  Amir nodded. “Míra is a codename. She is a woman who was once your mother’s companion. Her real name is—”

  “Tulia?” A strange sense of foreboding took hold of me, as I realized another illusion of my lifetime was about to come crumbling down. “Tulia wasn’t just my mother’s companion. She was her assistant. Wasn’t she?”

  “So, you know where she is?” Lady Penelope turned on me, and I felt the fire and brimstone from her gaze.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ve visited her frequently since my father’s death, actually.”

  For a long moment, Lady POW seemed unable to process what I had said. Then she shook her head. “That lying witch.” Lady Penelope let out a string of muttered curses, prompting me to make the sign of the cross. “I should have known she would be fine with betraying me, too.”