The Mystic Marriage

by Jones, Heather Rose

  The only part Barbara regretted was that, having lent her name as hostess, she was expected to take a far more public role than she preferred. While Margerit escorted Collfield and saw that all was prepared for the lecture, she waited by the doors, welcoming those whose status demanded personal attention. Jeanne took pity on her early in the evening and joined her, perhaps only for the chance to share whispered gossip in the brief quiet moments. Guests who felt no need for ceremony in their entrance had filtered in through the side doors, so it wasn’t until she felt the weight of being watched that Barbara noticed the woman from the courtyard staring at her from a corner of the room. She stood apart, with no sign that she’d come as anyone’s guest, but this was a public affair, after all, so there was nothing odd in that. It was the stare that was disconcerting.

  Barbara leaned closer to Jeanne. “That woman over by the column—the dowdy one—do you have any idea who she is?”

  Jeanne flicked her fan to disguise her own glance. “Goodness, no. Why should I?”

  “Evidently the name is Chamering. I don’t know why I should know her either but she left her card for me the other day and I can’t puzzle it out.”

  Jeanne laughed. “You should be used to all and sundry petitioning you for things. I’ve almost sent a few people your way myself. She does have a bit of a hungry look.”

  It was true. Not in the sense of wanting for food, but Barbara felt drunk in by her gaze, as if she were the woman’s hope of salvation. Another guest of note entered and she looked away to perform her duties. When she looked back, Maisetra Chamering had taken a seat at the edge of the salle and was examining the program closely.

  The lecture was everything they’d hoped it would be. Collfield’s slow, schoolroom French made her topic easy to follow, despite the odd turns of her studies, and a dry sense of humor came through to entertain the crowd after a few initial stumbles. At the end, Princess Annek had a kind word for her in public and in private a reassurance that the university collections would be at her disposal, as a special favor. That made all the trouble worthwhile: to see the dozzures required to bend and not to wait on their charity.

  The Chamering woman had lingered as the audience began dispersing and Barbara, with a sigh, excused herself at last and approached her. “I’m sorry for the confusion the other day. I had no idea it was me you’d come to see.”

  Maisetra Chamering ducked her head with a fumbled curtsey. “It’s no matter. I didn’t recognize you and I wasn’t sure—”

  “Then we haven’t met?” Barbara asked. “I’ve been trying to think whether I’ve heard your name before.”

  “No, that is…it’s somewhat complicated.”

  Barbara tried to put her at ease. “Perhaps you could start at the beginning.”

  The woman looked around, as if afraid someone might be listening. “Oh, no, not here. I must speak to you in private.”

  “So this is a matter of business?” Barbara’s eyes narrowed. Business with random strangers generally meant requests for either money or influence. And if not from her, then through her from Margerit. Best to deal with it promptly. “Come by the house tomorrow morning. I’ll be going over accounts with my agent until well past noon, so you’re certain to find me home.”

  * * *

  Maisetra Chamering knocked on the door of Tiporsel House promptly at nine, which was far earlier than Barbara had expected, but perhaps she kept country hours. Or perhaps she was impatient. Barbara had barely begun reviewing the next quarter’s budgeting with LeFevre. He had kept the baron’s accounts since long before her birth and continued the same service now with those properties split between her and Margerit. She left the two of them to sort things out for now, leading her guest into the library. It wasn’t where she would have chosen for such matters, but the library fires were always kept up and the parlor wouldn’t be presentable yet. Barbara gestured to the chairs by the fire as her visitor gazed around at the room.

  “You have a beautiful house,” she said, seating herself tentatively. “It’s good to see you’ve done so well.”

  Barbara frowned, trying to guess where she was leading. “It’s not my house,” she said shortly. “I live here as a guest. I own nothing at all in Rotenek.” It was overstating the case but might bring her to the point.

  The woman looked disconcerted. “But you are…that is, I thought…you are Barbara Lumbeirt? Baroness Saveze? That’s what the woman said last night at the lecture.”

  Barbara nodded. “I am.”

  “But I thought…”

  “It’s clear what you thought,” Barbara interrupted, losing patience at last. “You thought I was a wealthy woman. What isn’t clear is how you thought to turn that to your advantage. Let us not mince words here. What is it you want?”

  She made a very convincing show of looking aghast. “No! You misunderstand! I don’t…you mustn’t think…oh, this is all so difficult. I don’t know where to start.” She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her eyes. “My sister—”

  “Ah, your sister. Now we come to it. What is it your sister wants, then?” Barbara interrupted.

  “My sister has been dead these twenty years and more,” Maisetra Chamering said quietly.

  Barbara didn’t know which of those words sank into her stomach like a stone, but she felt the shiver of someone walking over her grave. She waited, all senses alert, her heart pounding in her ears.

  In that silence the stranger continued. “I thought you might have recognized…but no, why would you? It was so very long ago and you were an infant. And of course there’s no reason why the name Chamering would mean anything to you. But I was born Heniriz Anzeld.”

  “Anzeld,” Barbara repeated.

  She nodded. “Elisebet Anzeld, my sister, was your mother.”

  Barbara felt the stone turn to a flood of rage, welling up into her mouth. She stood abruptly. “Get out.”

  Maisetra Chamering shook her head. “Please—”

  “Get out!” Barbara repeated, shouting now. “How dare you come here with her name on your lips? How dare you think I owe you anything after what you did to her?”

  “I don’t understand—” she began. But the shouting had drawn attention. Ponivin had entered on the briefest of discreet knocks and employed a butler’s skills at extracting unwanted guests swiftly and quietly.

  Barbara followed into the hallway, still shaking with rage. Margerit and LeFevre stood in the office doorway staring in concern. Barbara heard the distant thud of the front door closing.

  “What’s wrong?” Margerit ventured.

  Barbara turned to them. “Evidently my mother had a sister. Did you know that, LeFevre?”

  He frowned slightly. “I believe I did. It’s been a very long time. Yes, a sister, but none of that would have been any of my concern until after you came into the household. And by then, the Anzelds had long since vanished from society. What did she want?”

  Barbara shrugged. “I don’t know. Money most likely. She was quite disappointed to learn that I didn’t own this house.”

  “But Barbara,” Margerit said, “to discover you have family—isn’t that a wonderful thing?”

  “Family?” The word tasted of gall in her mouth. “We all know my mother’s story. How her family as much as sold her to Count Turinz for the sake of his title, then cast her off when his ruin threatened them as well. We know how they treated her.”

  “Do we?” LeFevre asked quietly. “We know the story the baron told—perhaps the one he truly believed. But there may be other stories.”

  “What else is there to know? They let her die with Turinz in a debtors’ prison.” She turned on both of them. “And I don’t want to hear that you’ve gone to Maisetra Chamering behind my back to try to make peace.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Barbara.” Margerit sounded hurt. “We promised each other, no secrets.”

  “No, no secrets.” Barbara drew her hands slowly over her face. They were still trembling. “I’m s
orry. I’m going to be of no use to either of you until I get out and shake off this mood. Will you forgive me if I leave the accounts to you for a while?”

  LeFevre waved her off and Margerit touched her cheek briefly. It was permission enough.

  After a change of clothes, Barbara headed to Perret’s fencing academy, not to spend her anger in action, but because it was one place where anger couldn’t exist. She had only to walk through the doors and hear the rhythmic sounds of quick footsteps and clicking blades, smell the sharpness of sweating bodies, for her mind to find that old familiar place of purpose and…not calm, but balance.

  Perret himself broke off his bout to welcome her. “Mesnera, it’s been too long. You’ll lose your edge.”

  She’d once thought of him as impartially strict with all his students, but with the changes in her life there had been a shift beyond simply the forms of address. She wasn’t merely a skilled and dedicated student now; she was a point of pride for him. “I still do my passes most mornings, to get the blood warmed up. But I didn’t mean to interrupt your work. I’m not here for lessons today, just some sparring to keep in practice.”

  He bowed slightly. “I would be honored to engage with you, if you wish.”

  In the old days, the honor would have been all on her side. Now? Now she accepted graciously.

  They worked easily at first, loosening up and trading banter.

  “You still haven’t hired an armin of your own, I hear,” Perret said.

  “Now you sound just like Marken!” Barbara returned. “He thinks I don’t show proper respect to my own rank, running around town with no one but a groom except for the most formal of affairs.”

  “He’s right. And it goes beyond respect. It isn’t fair to burden him with standing behind both you and Maisetra Sovitre.”

  Barbara hadn’t considered that side of things before. Just because she’d never asked for more than the trappings of ceremony didn’t mean Marken didn’t take his job more seriously. But she laughed lightly in response, saying, “And I suppose you have some eager student who’s looking for a position!”

  She made the touch to end the bout and Perret shook his head as he stood down. “No one I can think of at the moment, but if you like I’ll ask around.”

  Barbara pondered the idea. “I wouldn’t be an easy charge.”

  “And the old baron was?”

  She laughed again. “But he trained me up to exactly what he wanted. I suppose I could do the same, but it would take years! I wouldn’t stand for being bullied and sheltered like some innocent girl. But it would need to be someone I respected enough to obey if there were a genuine danger. And then there are the complications of my household…” An armin ended up being privy to most of his employer’s secrets. How easy would it be to find someone who would take hers in stride?

  Perret nodded as if following her thoughts. Whatever his own feelings might be, this was business. “Shall I keep my eyes open?”

  Barbara considered the offer. “No,” she said at last. “I’m still not convinced of the need.” She glanced at the long clock at the end of the practice salle. “I should be getting home. Thank you for your advice.”

  * * *

  The practice had dispersed her anger enough that Barbara felt only a slight twinge of annoyance when she found a small letter-casket waiting for her on returning to Tiporsel, accompanied by a note written on the back of another one of Maisetra Chamering’s cards. Your mother left this with me when she went to join her husband in prison. I never opened it. Do with it as seems best to you. I will not trouble you again. H.C.

  Lifting the box, she could feel a slight shift of the contents that spoke of a large volume of paper inside. There was no outer latch, only a keyhole. Unless the previous holder had had the key, her claim that it was unopened seemed true. Strangely, no curiosity stirred in her, only trepidation.

  She took the casket into the library and tucked it into a space next to a volume of Desanger’s Logica. It could wait.

  Chapter Nine

  Antuniet

  Darkness. Darkness everywhere and thick silence. She was looking for…what? She needed to find it; she couldn’t return empty-handed. A thin crack of light, like the slightest opening in a wardrobe door. She moved toward it, seeking a way out. Show me! The demand was like a watchdog’s bark. Have you done it? Show me! Her reticule hung heavy at her wrist, dragging it down. She fumbled at the strings and poured out the contents into the outstretched, expectant hand. Instead of brilliant, glowing gems it was nothing but dirt and pebbles. The hand closed into a fist then jerked sharply downward to cast the work aside. The door slammed, erasing that line of light and a key snicked in the lock. All was darkness again.

  Antuniet woke with a start, thrusting her hands out against the dream-door. Thin threads of light shone through the shutters from the first streaks of dawn. She rose, still exhausted, and went to throw them open to chase out the shadows.

  The attacks in Prague and Heidelberg had come with almost no warning. Here at home it was easier to notice things out of place and wonder: the man who seemed to follow her home from the market one day, the shadows lurking more openly down in the street when she’d climbed up to the gable window at midnight to check the zodiacal watch against a sighting on the star Aldebaran. Were the curious stares in the street only for her rumored occupation or was there a deeper interest? What of the man who stood on the corner opposite for three afternoons in a row? But then on the fourth day, a young woman ran out of the baker’s shop to join him and they walked down the street hand in hand. She felt a fool for being afraid. Was anyone watching her? Or was she seeing spies in every loiterer? She’d never seen the men who searched her rooms in Heidelberg. Would it matter if she had? Likely they’d been hired riff-raff. One face she knew: the man in Prague who had seemed in charge. Vitali’s assistant had pointed him out and repeated the questions he’d been asking. And then when she’d seen him ransacking Vitali’s laboratory—the one where her work was done—she’d turned and fled the city that same day.

  But there would be no leaving Rotenek. There was nowhere left to go. She’d seen that face again, crossing the Plaiz Vezek. She wasn’t certain, but his features had stood out against a river of Alpennian faces. She’d turned away quickly when he glanced her way and then he was gone when she looked back. Who was he? And why had he tracked her here? Beyond the obvious, of course. Back in Prague, Vitali had seen him coming and going from the castle, but that told her nothing that she couldn’t have guessed.

  And now at the chemist’s shop, where she bought minor supplies and admired the intricate glassware she had no excuse to order, the proprietor brought the fear back to the fore when he said, “There was a fellow asking after you. One of those German sorts. Must be one of the new dozzures at the university.”

  Antuniet barely had time to wonder at that when his assistant countered, “Not German, Austrian. I told you we’d start seeing more of them with the princess returned. I know because he bought that sublimatorium you were looking at,” he added, turning back to her. “Had it delivered to the ambassador’s house on the Plaiz Efrank. I don’t much think he’s going to use it though. Looked at the piece like it was a vase for the mantel or something.”

  The old panic leapt up fresh, though his chattering gave her time to renew the mask. What did he ask? she wanted to demand. How much does he know? It would only draw attention. The chemist no doubt had guessed the nature of her work, but it was in his best interest to ask few questions. She could assume the Austrian knew her direction and habits…or would soon enough. If he were connected with the embassy then her worst fears were confirmed. Here was no jealous scholar seeking the book for his own purposes. She thought she’d been careful, during those early days in Prague, when she first realized what she’d found. Yet word had gone around. That had been unavoidable even in the secretive community of alchemists. And somehow her work had come to the attention of men with power, men who wanted her discovery for their o
wn masters.

  But what would he do? Would he move as directly as he had in Heidelberg? Here on her home ground? He was connected to the ambassador. Had he maneuvered ahead of her and gained Annek’s ear? Until she had successful work to show, it would be hard to compete with the promise of an emperor’s gratitude in return for one little book. There was nothing she could do beyond the precautions that had become second nature. The book was concealed, even more securely than in Heidelberg, taken out only in the depths of night when she was sure of being alone to copy out pages of cryptic notes for the next experiments.

  Her hands were still shaking when she returned to the workshop. Anna called out a greeting from the inner room as Antuniet closed and locked the door behind her. She leaned against it for a moment, drinking in the sense of security, before answering, “Are you finished with the distillation? Set out the materials we’ll need for tomorrow and make sure there’s nothing else running short.”

  * * *

  Whatever dreams there may have been didn’t survive into the soothing rituals of the next morning’s routine. The working couldn’t start until the stars had achieved the specified angle and nearly all the preparations were complete. The knock came as she was measuring out the caustic. Antuniet jumped and barely kept it from splashing. At the second knock, Anna called out from the other side of the room, “Shall I see who it is?”

  “No!” she answered sharply as she stoppered the jug and set it aside. Coming into the front room, she scolded, “I’ve told you a dozen times, you aren’t to be answering the door to strangers. If I’m not here and Iakup isn’t here then they can come back later. Go back to your work.” Anna scurried off. She’d trained the girl well enough to obey a direct order without question.

  She stood frozen at the door, unwilling to betray her fear by demanding a name, until the third knock came and she lifted the bar and worked the latch. But it was only Jeanne framed in the doorway. She was trailed by her maid carrying a large hamper. Antuniet closed her eyes briefly in relief and leaned against the jamb.