A Conspiracy of Alchemists

by Liesel Schwarz

  The waiter made a theatrical bow. “Always a pleasure to assist a beautiful lady.” He wheeled his coffee contraption from their compartment, whistling.

  Elle took a sip from her cappuccino, savoring the taste. “You know, I think they might be on to something with this invention. If I could get a better look at the plans, I’m sure we could build such machines. We could open coffee shops and people could stop by on their way to town for a cup of coffee and something sweet. We could ask Mrs. Hinges to make cakes.”

  “I think you might have a difficult time convincing people to give up their tea though.”

  “We could serve tea or coffee.” Elle made a note to give the matter some more thought.

  CHAPTER 32

  They reached Vienna shortly after lunchtime. Elle watched passengers embark amidst much offloading and loading of luggage. The compartment shuddered as the carriages of the Venice train were shunted to join up with the rest of the Orient Express.

  Marsh flagged down an elderly conductor. “Excuse me, how long will the train be stopping?”

  “We will be departing from Vienna in about two hours, sir.” The conductor nodded and shuffled on.

  “Where are you going?” Elle watched Marsh shrug into his carriage cloak.

  “I thought I might go for a little walk. Say hello to an old friend. Get some fresh air.” He pulled on his gloves and lifted his hat off the rack. “I would ask you to join me, but you might find my destination objectionable. And we have an agreement about you-know-what, so I won’t.”

  He was up to something. She could tell by the slight way in which his mouth curled up with amusement.

  “Actually, I think I might join you,” she said.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She nodded. She didn’t want to admit it, but for at least half an hour the strange whispering voices had been telling her to go with the Warlock. Right now they were all talking together, urging her to get up and put on her coat. She rubbed her ear in an attempt to silence them. She did not like the thought of hearing whispers no one else could hear. It meant that she was either going stark raving mad or this was some strange Oracle-related side effect like the loss of her shadow. Neither of these explanations was particularly attractive.

  “I don’t think it’s wise. My friend is a sensitive creature. I fear that she might be frightened by your strong opinions.”

  He was going to visit a woman. Elle felt a strange sense of unease creep up her insides. She needed to know what he was up to now.

  “I would have thought that a nice cup of tea would be an excellent diversion from the monotony of the train.” She did her best to sound nonchalant.

  “But you have to promise that you won’t make a scene.”

  Elle nodded solemnly. “I promise.” Elle picked up her reticule and followed him out of the compartment. “Where are we going?”

  Marsh just smiled and offered her his arm as she stepped off the train. He was playing her. That much was certain. And she would have to play along if she was to have any hope of finding out what he was up to. She smiled back at him as they set off across the station concourse.

  “I haven’t been to Vienna since I was very young,” she said as they walked. “My father was invited to give a lecture at the university here years ago and he brought me with him. I don’t remember much, except that he took me to a café and bought me the biggest slice of chocolate cake I’d ever seen. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.” She shivered as the wind rushed at them when they turned a corner. “Goodness, it is definitely getting colder.”

  Marsh smiled politely, but said little. Outside the station, they hailed a horse-drawn carriage to take them into the city center. Steam had not quite settled in Vienna as it had in the rest of Europe.

  “I thought we agreed that there would be no more games, Mr. Marsh. Where are we going?” she said as soon as they were inside the carriage.

  “There is someone I would like you to meet,” Marsh said as the cab turned down the cobbled Ringstrasse, fringed with its elegant slim-windowed buildings.

  “Who is it?”

  He sighed. “Perhaps this is a bad idea. We should forget about it.” He leaned forward to signal the driver.

  Elle reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Don’t. I promise I’ll keep an open mind. Now, where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.” Marsh tapped the driver hatch and gave the man an address. After a few minutes, the carriage pulled up outside a baroque town house. Marsh told the driver to wait for them when they got out.

  At the top of the little steps, they came to a faded door with a heavy iron knocker. It was shaped like the head of a small horned godling. The brass was tarnished and gray, but the eyes were inlaid with bits of green glass.

  Marsh lifted the knocker and tapped on the door. A few chips of peeling paint flaked off the door and landed at their feet.

  The house was silent. Elle was about to turn back to the cab when an elderly butler opened the door. “You!” he said rudely. The wrinkles around his eyes receded as they widened in surprise. “It has been so many years since we’ve seen you,” he said.

  “Hello, Heinrich. Is your mistress home?”

  The butler seemed to remember his place. “Do come in, my lord.” He shuffled ahead and shuffled them into the front parlor. “Please. Let me take your coats. Madam.” He held out his gnarled hands to take hold of Elle’s coat. Elle gave Marsh a withering look. He ignored her and handed his own to the old man. She followed suit, not sure if she’d ever see the garment again.

  “I’ll go tell her that you are here.” Heinrich shuffled off into the darker recesses of the house with their coats bundled up under his arm.

  The parlor looked old and smelled of must and camphor, the scent of old people. Elle judged that the antique table and faded seats dated back to at least a hundred years ago. Thick dust sat in the corners and the curtains were drawn. It had the cold feel of a room that was not often used. She put the toe of her shoe over a patch on the carpet where the thread had worn through. Marsh stood by the window. He was peering out through the gap in the curtains, with his hands folded behind his back.

  From the shadows, a clock broke the silence with the slow deep rhythmic beats of its clockwork heart. It was the only sound between them and the predatory quiet of the house.

  Heinrich reappeared. “Please, come this way,” he said, as he herded them out of the front room and up a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs they came to what looked like another parlor.

  Heinrich pushed open the door and ushered them inside. Coals glowed among the thick ash in the fireplace. The walls of the parlor were lined with dark wood paneling and shelves. There was every indication that this room might have been a gentleman’s study at some point, but the shelves had since been cluttered up with all manner of strange paraphernalia. Jars of unidentified objects suspended in yellow-brown liquid stood nestled alongside books and bunches of dried herbs. Something moved next to Elle’s foot and she realized with a start that she had almost stepped on a cat. Two more were staring at her from the backs of sofas. The smell of old people and damp fur was almost overpowering.

  A small noise emanated from the corner. It was something between a cackle and a sniffle. “Hugh!” the brittle voice said.

  “Hello, Rosamund,” Marsh said. There was a softness in his voice that Elle found surprising.

  The brittle voice belonged to a tiny old lady. She looked so old that she was shrunk to the size of a child,. She sat in a fraying armchair trussed up in a collection of crocheted blankets. At the sight of the visitors, two more cats hopped off the old woman’s lap and sauntered into the shadows.

  “Oh, I never thought I’d see you again. Not before … before … ” She trailed off into a wheeze. Elle watched in amazement as the woman’s wrinkled face puckered up and her eyes filled with tears.

  Marsh moved forward and kneeled down next to her. He put his hand on her lap. “No, please don’t. I didn�
��t come here for that.”

  She touched her gnarled old hand to the side of his face and peered at him. “Just look at you. Still so handsome.”

  Elle felt another shudder of unease work its way up her spine. She gently cleared her throat.

  Marsh remembered himself and looked at Elle.

  “Roz, I have brought someone to meet you,” he said. “This is my friend, Eleanor Chance.”

  The old lady looked up at Elle and her face hardened as she composed herself. “Oh, I wish you had told me you were coming. I would have made myself ready.” She beckoned at Elle. “Do come closer, dear, so I can see you.”

  Elle moved forward and kneeled on the footstool next to the chair.

  Rosamund peered at Elle with age-bleary eyes. “Oh, Hugh, she is lovely. I do wish you the best.” Her eyes filled with tears again.

  The old crone was jealous, Elle realized. It was very creepy to behold.

  “Miss Chance is an associate. I have brought her here to talk about your gift.”

  The old lady’s gaze swiveled back to Elle. “She has it? One has finally manifested?”

  “Yes.”

  Rosamund sat back in her chair and a look of immense relief spread across her wrinkled face. “Oh, that is such good news. Such good news indeed. It’s been so long and I am so very tired. Heinrich will be so pleased. Respite at long last.”

  She flicked her watery gaze at Marsh and a look of pure cunning crossed her wrinkled face.

  “Do you think she might give me a little … ? Not much, just enough to ease the pain in my joints. The winters are never easy. And especially now when I will be allowed to let go …”

  Marsh sighed. “This is not the reason why we are here. She has yet to fully complete the metamorphosis.”

  The old lady’s eyes widened. “An unschooled Cybele? Oh my. Is … this … Vivienne’s daughter?”

  At that moment, Elle’s unease reached saturation point. “Excuse me, could someone please tell me what is going on here?”

  Rosamund reached over and took Elle’s hand in her own. She closed her eyes. “Oh, yes, the power in this one runs strong. Strong and pure. I’ve not felt that in many years. I should have sensed it sooner.”

  Elle pulled her hand away and stood up. The sudden movement set another cat running. “Marsh, I demand to know what is going on here?”

  “Why, the power of the Pythias. The power that holds the universe together …” Rosamund said.

  Marsh folded his arms. “Rosamund has been the Oracle since your mother died.”

  “They call me the paper Oracle. I have abilities, but they are not enough for true power.” She shook her head. “Thin like paper and never enough … just enough to know it was there … enough to act when no one else alive could … but not enough to use.” He voice thinned and trailed off as if she had fallen asleep. She started and gestured around the room. “I turned to witchcraft in the end. It wasn’t much consolation, but it helped.”

  Elle bit her bottom lip.

  “Have you felt it in your dreams?” Rosamund asked.

  Elle nodded. “Yes.”

  “And they’ve spoken to you, haven’t they?”

  “They have,” she whispered.

  The old lady clapped her hands with glee. “Oh yes, that’s exactly it.” She leaned forward. “Do me a favor, dear. Pass me that bag on the shelf. The blue one.”

  Elle did her best to ignore the specimen jars with their contents floating silently in their yellow liquid.

  “That’s the one,” Rosamund said. Elle handed her the bundle of balding velvet.

  With great care, Rosamund unwrapped the bundle. With unsteady hands, she lifted a crystal sphere from the folds of fabric and held it up to the light.

  “The Oracle stone.”

  Elle peered at the crystal in its brass setting. It was the size of a walnut and yellowed with age.

  The old lady prodded her. “Look into it. Concentrate. Tell me what you see.”

  Elle suppressed a sigh. She didn’t need any special powers to know that she was going to murder Marsh as soon as they left this place. She frowned and focused on the crystal. It would only take a moment to humor them.

  Bright light flashed before her eyes. She saw a train. It was dark. The moon hid behind trees. A carriage with a horse stood in the dark. Wolves howled. Blood trickled against the railings. “You must heed the warning. You must listen to us. There is no time to waste.” The whispering voices insisted

  She gave a cry and sat back.

  Marsh put his hand on her arm. “Elle, what is it?”

  Rosamund cackled with childlike delight. “She saw something. Yes, yes, she did.”

  Elle stood up. She needed to leave this horrible little room as soon as possible. Marsh stood up too and put his hand out to steady her. “It’s all right. No need to be alarmed. Roz is an old friend. I was hoping she could help you.”

  Elle shook her head. “I would like to go now. Our train is leaving soon and we don’t want to be late.” Her mouth was suddenly dry and she felt dizzy.

  “I’m sorry. Coming here was a mistake. We should go,” Marsh said. The old woman was still grinning with glee.

  “Thank you for seeing us. I am very sorry for arriving unannounced and disturbing you.”

  The old lady’s face fell. “Oh no, must you go so soon?”

  “I’m afraid so. We are only stopping in Vienna for the briefest of time. Our train is departing within the hour.” He went down on one knee and took Rosamund’s hand in his. Gently he raised it up to his lips and kissed it. The gesture was intimate, intense, the touch of a lover. It was the touch of many things left unsaid, and it made Elle blush.

  Rosamund’s face softened and she looked very sad. Then she looked up at Elle. “Come here, my dear. It’s all right. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  Elle went up to her and sat back down on the footstool. She watched as Rosamund carefully took the crystal on its chain and put it around Elle’s neck. “I want you to have this. The gift you carry is a terrible burden. Just look at what it has done to me.” There was a gentle twinkle in her eyes. “Please take it. It belongs to the Oracle. Your mother wore it once and now you will too. So it must be.”

  “My mother wore this?” She suddenly felt herself fill with a strange longing for the woman she had never known.

  Rosamund nodded. “The stone will bring you wisdom.”

  “Thank you,” Elle whispered. Their fingers touched. She felt the old woman move her gnarled hands over hers, gripping her wrists very firmly for someone so frail. “Now this won’t hurt a bit,” she whispered. “Just let me have a little.”

  A sudden jolt of energy shot through Elle’s body. She tried to pull away, but it was as if she had been welded to the old woman. It felt like all the air was being pushed out of her. She gasped as she sank to the floor.

  “Roz!” Marsh roared. He grabbed the old woman by the shoulders and shook her. The connection broke and Elle fell backwards off the footstool.

  “I said no!” Marsh said. His face was drawn and angry.

  Rosamund was glowing, but there was fear in her eyes. “Please, Hugh, don’t be angry. Will you deny an old woman a small comfort? She has so much to spare. I gave her the crystal. The debt was paid.”

  “All this time and you haven’t changed. Still only thinking about yourself.” There was a bitterness in his voice. “I can see that coming here was a mistake. Let’s go.” He helped Elle to her feet.

  Elle glanced behind her as they left the room. The old lady was rocking backwards and forwards in her chair and she could have sworn that the old woman’s wrinkles had lessened and she was sitting taller.

  “What on earth was that all about?” Elle said as they got back into the carriage. “Who was that woman?”

  “Rosamund is the Oracle. But she does not have the same abilities you do. She used to be a friend. Years ago.” His lips were still tight and he looked angry. “I thought she might have gained at least an
inkling of wisdom after in all these years.” He shook his head. “I should have known better.”

  “What a strange lady. What was all that hand-holding about?”

  Marsh did not answer. He just stared in front of him as the cab trundled along over the cobbles. “I’m sorry for subjecting you to that, but I fear for you, Elle. An untrained Cybele is an open invitation for trouble. I thought Rosamund might be able to tell you how to complete the metamorphosis on your own. So you could at least protect yourself, but I have failed.” He looked utterly miserable.

  Elle lifted the crystal over her head and held it in her hand. “My mother wore this once.”

  Marsh looked at the stone in her hand. “She did. As did every Oracle before her for the last five thousand years.”

  He ran his a hand through his hair. “There is so much you still don’t know. Promise me one thing, will you?”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Promise me that you will never allow another being to draw energy from you like Rosamund just did. Every time it happens, a bit of what you are disappears. You must promise me.”

  “Is that what she was doing? Why you’re were so angry?”

  “Yes. If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have drained you dry like a husk. She would have assumed your life force and become young again. You would have ended up as a pile of dust on the floor.”

  She was silent. “Well then, I suppose I should thank you for saving me. Even though you were the one that took me to see that awful woman in the first place.” She folded her hands in her lap.

  “There are many out there who will seek to use you in the same way. A Cybele is an empty receptacle for power. The Shadow will seek to fill that receptacle and those who hunger for power will seek to drain it. Every time that happens, a bit of you will disappear. One of the skills of the Oracle is to ensure that this does not happen when magic is channeled. You have to learn how to protect yourself. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

  Elle nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are right.” She dropped the crystal into her reticule and closed it.

  “And do you see now what you might become if you don’t learn how to use your gift properly?”