“Revolutionaries?” Maisetra Talarico asked.
The thought was startling. “I doubt it,” Barbara said. “Too subtle for their sort.”
“I wish I could see the amulets in question,” Margerit said. “It might be possible to weave them into the truth-mystery. Or they may even bear traces of the person who placed them, if they truly are more than simple stones.”
“Or even simply give clues to their origin by their nature,” Barbara added. “But that would be hard to manage. No doubt Elisebet has them locked up securely somewhere until she will produce them as evidence.”
“Perhaps,” Jeanne said slowly. “But if we could at least get sight of them…” One strong possibility grew in her mind. “Tio,” she said.
She could tell that Barbara instantly took up her thought. “Would she do it?”
Jeanne’s voice turned grim. “After what Efriturik did to keep her secret? She will do it or forever be under a debt of honor.”
It wasn’t a matter to be managed lightly or quickly. When the demand was laid before her, Tio shrank and wriggled like a fish on a hook. It would be difficult, she protested. Very difficult.
“Not impossible.” Jeanne seized on the omission.
“Not impossible,” Tio agreed. “The princess keeps some of them in a locked jewelry case in her room. Her thaumaturgist has the rest. But I can’t take you there! And if I were caught trying to remove it…Unless—” All eyes fixed on her. “Next Tuesday Elisebet and Sain-Mazzi will both be away from the palace all morning. I might be able to borrow the case for an hour.”
“If you can borrow it, why not simply take it?” Talarico asked.
“It wouldn’t do any good. They’d still have the others.”
“Bring them to us at Antuniet’s workshop,” Margerit suggested. “That’s close enough to Elisebet’s apartments to get them back quickly.”
“I can’t be seen going there!” Tio exclaimed.
“You’ve managed disguises before,” Jeanne said sternly. “Think of something.”
“If I’m found out, I’ll lose my post, or worse.” It was a last gasp of protest.
“I didn’t know your position meant that much to you,” Jeanne said. “More than my friendship and your honor.”
Tio shook her head miserably. “I’m afraid.”
“Of whom?” Barbara asked sharply.
But Tio didn’t answer.
* * *
The silence in the workshop was as thick as fog. At first Barbara had paced back and forth restlessly, until Jeanne thought her nerves would snap. “Would you be still!” she hissed at last. Barbara paused in surprise, then sat sheepishly. Margerit fidgeted. Only Antuniet appeared cool, bent over her reading, until one noticed that the pages never turned. Within that silence, the distant sound of soft slippers on the tiled corridor floor sounded like the ticking of a clock.
All eyes turned as Tio slipped inside, her face pale as glass.
“I have it,” she said. But there had been no need to say so, given the way she clutched something close against her breast, hidden beneath her cloak. She set the small box down on the table beside Antuniet, who closed her book and moved it aside.
“It’s locked,” Barbara said in dismay. “Do you have the key?”
Tio shook her head in mute unhappiness.
Antuniet nudged the small hanging padlock with a finger. “It doesn’t matter. I can deal with that.” She rummaged on a shelf and came back with the stub of a candle and a feather. “I’ve had a bit of experience lately with Saint Leonhard’s lock charms.” She lit the candle and whispered a few words over it as she worked with wax and the feather until the lock snicked open. She stepped back. “I shouldn’t touch them,” she said. “In case I need to swear to it. Tio?”
Tio reached out with trembling hands and lifted the lid. They all crowded closely, peering at the contents as if they held the secrets of the ages. Barbara was the most practical and brought a lamp over.
Some of the stones seemed nothing but river pebbles. Others were carved with strange symbols like ancient seals. One was coiled like a marble snake and another seemed a bright blue beetle.
“Well, it’s no wonder they sent him sleep with bad dreams,” Antuniet said. “Onyx and jacinth, and there an eagle-stone. Whoever put this together knew something of what he was about. I don’t see anything that would cause real harm and much of it is mere trash.” She pointed at the beetle, careful not to touch it. “A scarab from an Egyptian tomb: nothing but glazed clay. No properties at all unless someone’s laid a charm on it. Ammonites are said to give prophetic dreams; that might have added to his distress, but I suspect it was included just for looks. These were meant to be found. Can you shift things around to show the rest?”
Tio picked the box up and shook the contents gently. Margerit gasped suddenly. “Mother of God! It’s one of yours!” She looked up across at Antuniet as if for one moment she doubted. Tio dropped the box on the table with a clatter that made them all jump.
“Give me that lamp,” Antuniet asked Barbara and held it up as she craned her head over the box. “Yes, it’s one of mine,” she said flatly. “More than one.” She moved to catch the angles of the light and pointed in one corner. “I see four of the layered stones.”
“But you destroyed the extras,” Jeanne protested. “I saw you do it!”
“Of the enhanced stones. The ones from the New Year’s gift, yes. But there was a box of my first experiments. It disappeared and I couldn’t find it after the move. And that one—” She pointed at a particularly brilliant stone. “I know every gem that came out of my workshop as I’d know my own children. That is the one I gave to Mefro Feldin.”
“So,” Barbara said.
Jeanne could see her eyes harden and didn’t care to know what plans she was making.
“But Chustin was ill before New Year’s,” Margerit protested. “Before you dismissed her.”
Antuniet looked into the distance as if calculating back. “I don’t know when the stones went missing. I gave Feldin that one in early December. Had they planned this already and using my creations was lucky chance? Or was the entire plot born out of Feldin’s theft? If they wanted to tie the matter directly to Efriturik, then the ordinary stones wouldn’t be enough. They’d need some of mine.”
Jeanne felt a sudden dread. “The gem we made for her—the one to make her more agreeable—might it have made her more easily persuaded?”
Antuniet shrugged as if that part didn’t matter. “Unlikely. It shouldn’t have continued its influence after I exchanged it, but—” She paused, remembering. “Jeanne, when I asked her about that stone, she said I was accusing her of theft. Perhaps she thought she might as well make the accusation true.”
Just as bad, Jeanne thought.
“That gives us our first good clue,” Barbara said. “Find Feldin and we can learn whom she passed them on to. Tio, best you take them back now before anyone has a chance to miss them.”
Tio nodded in relief and locked the box again. With a furtive glance up and down the corridor, she slipped out.
When the others had gone, Antuniet began pacing the room urgently. “Jeanne, what shall I do? What shall I do?”
Jeanne said, “We’ll go home and we’ll wait for Barbara to find your housekeeper.”
“But Jeanne, they have proof.” Her voice was anguished now. “No one will believe I had no part in it. I must go. Leave Rotenek. Oh, Jeanne, will you come with me? We’ll need money; do you have enough?”
“Toneke, you don’t need to run away this time. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Jeanne, don’t you understand? Once they call it sorcery, Annek won’t protect me. And we’ve already become a scandal. You said so yourself. When they come for me you may not be safe.” And with another thought, “Oh God! Anna!”
Jeanne wanted to slap her as if she were a hysterical kitchen maid. “Antuniet, have faith.”
“Have faith in whom? In a princess whose
gratitude extends only to her own interests? In the law that took everything from me once before? Who should I have faith in?”
“Have faith in Barbara. If anyone can solve this puzzle, she can. Have faith in Margerit. And in Annek, who set her to devise a truth mystery to prove your innocence before ever this came out. Have faith in God and the saints that they will bring the light of truth to bear on everyone.”
“God cares nothing for me,” Antuniet said flatly.
Jeanne took Antuniet by the arms and shook her gently. “You don’t mean that. And if all else fails, have faith in me! I will die before I let any harm come to you.”
“Oh, Jeanne, you can’t promise that. You have no power.”
“Perhaps not, but I have friends.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Barbara
Barbara had never thought that tracking down the Feldin woman would be simple. It came as no surprise that she had disappeared. Her room had already been relet to another, and the landlady knew only that she’d paid and packed her things. Antuniet could recall little that might be of help. “To be honest, I tried to have little to do with her. It suited the both of us.” Her voice was tired as she responded to the insistent questions. “What’s the use?” There was something of the same bleak darkness in her eyes that Barbara recalled from that morning on the bridge a year past. No frenzy this time, only a tired bleaching of all hope.
“The use?” Barbara said. “Have you given up so quickly?”
“Every morsel I’ve ever won only made the next loss deeper,” Antuniet replied flatly. “There’s a poison in my fate. It will taint everyone around me. Jeanne refuses to let me go and now I’ll have that on my conscience as well. But why do you persist? No one would blame you if you washed your hands of me. You can scarcely expect me to believe it’s family loyalty.”
That was so far from true that Barbara didn’t know where to begin. A year past it had been simpler: against both their wills, Antuniet had fallen within the scope of her watch. Back then her interest had been proprietary. But now their lives were woven together too tightly to be so casually parted. What she felt for Antuniet she couldn’t say easily, but that didn’t matter.
She leaned forward. “Even if you and I were nothing but strangers to each other, I would do this. For Jeanne’s sake. For Margerit’s sake. Even for Efriturik’s sake, because the easiest way to clear his name is to clear yours. Doubt if you will that I would chase halfway across Alpennia for your sake alone, and yet I would.”
And seeing the broken-winged bird that Antuniet had become, caused a hot anger to begin welling up. Feldin—and whoever else might have set all this in motion—would regret the day their paths crossed hers.
In the end there was no need to go as far as halfway across Alpennia. Tavit turned up the final clue. They’d tracked down the men who’d stood guard over the place on Trez Cherfis and one recalled that Feldin had mentioned going to stay with a married daughter back home. “Though where home was I couldn’t say,” he added.
“In Pemenz surely?” Tavit suggested. And as they rode back to Tiporsel, he elaborated, “She’d been in Rotenek long enough for most of it to wash away, but she still called a duck a dab and softened her p’s. I couldn’t say which village, but I’d bet it would be within half a day of Luzpont.”
“That’s right,” Barbara said. “You’re from Pemenz yourself, aren’t you?”
Margerit acquiesced to her hurried travel plans with no protest. “Is it far? Will you need the traveling coach?”
“Best, I think, to go on horseback,” Barbara answered and Margerit directed Maitelen in the packing of a scanty saddlebag. “The roads are uncertain if another storm comes through. Time enough to worry about carriages if I’m able to bring her back. Easier to pass unnoticed that way as well,” Barbara added. There were some tasks where the public trappings of a title made things more difficult. But, then, she’d never had the luxury of going completely unnoticed in her work.
Brandel proved an unexpected challenge to the smooth departure. “But, Cousin Barbara, why can’t I come with you? Tavit said—”
“Tavit does not make the plans,” Barbara said quellingly.
Brandel seemed to accept the refusal, but in the early morning when they were to set off, he appeared silently in the hall wearing riding clothes. Barbara had no doubt that there was a bag packed somewhere close but out of sight. She shot Tavit a warning glance as they sorted out their gear in the foyer with the horses waiting outside. If he’d been encouraging the boy, they might have to have words. “No,” she repeated firmly.
“But why?” Brandel insisted. “You said I should see more of the world.”
Why indeed? “Because I have a duty to you and to your mother and I think this trip might go beyond that duty. There are things I have no business exposing you to at your age.”
Tavit wisely held his tongue until the horses had turned out through the gate onto the Vezenaf. “Do you truly expect this errand to be dangerous?”
“Not to us,” Barbara said shortly.
* * *
It was a very different journey than the one they’d taken together in the summer. No need now to play disguise to the hilt. If the eccentric Baroness Saveze chose to make a winter journey on horseback, that was her own affair, and news of her presence was unlikely to outrun them and come to the ears of those she sought. She could command lodging and good horses in her own name this time, but now the urgency was greater than a mere desire to return home promptly. If everything went well, they might be back in Rotenek in no more than a week, but there was no predicting what might pass in their absence. The weather was brisk but the roads good, finding that balance between mud and ice. Thank God for that.
“Where do your own people live?” Barbara asked as they approached the edge of Luzpont. “Would it make sense to enlist their help?” She saw Tavit’s face pale beneath the shadowing brim of his hat and knew the question had been a misstep.
He shook his head vehemently. “No, they’d be no help.” But there was no elaboration.
More caution and less openness were called for now, but it was a good wager that Feldin hadn’t been convinced to quit Rotenek merely for the asking, and that inducement might leave traces.
Now Barbara held her tongue and kept her name quiet in the common room of the inn and Tavit let his accent broaden to coax gossip from the locals, though he kept the heavy scarf wrapped loosely about his head as if to muffle any personal recognition.
“I’d a mind to look up my cousin while we’re on the road if I had time,” he shared over a pint of ale. “Name’s Feldin. Though no doubt she’s had enough of cousins come out of the bushes since her good fortune. I thought her daughter still lived around here, but I could have mistaken the town.”
They tried the same line in Sain-Pol again. It wasn’t until Fillen that a nibble appeared.
“You’re right at that,” an hostler replied to his bait. “For I never heard she had cousins around here. Her daughter still lives down by the mill but she’s not living there. Took the old Palfrit cottage off the north road, so you may be right about good fortune.”
There was no point in dawdling now. If Feldin caught word that strangers in town were asking after her… Barbara made a quick decision and turned to the hostler. “No time to leave our path that far, I’m afraid. We’re behind in our journey as it is. I saw a hack-chaise in the yard. Is it spoken for already or might we hire it? I hadn’t expected the roads to be this good in January but that way we might make Suniz by dark.” The fabrication rolled easily off her tongue. And the name of Saveze might secure the carriage without the tell-tale eyes of a postillion. It was unlikely Feldin would consent to go with them easily.
The next step would be the riskiest. Would she be alone? There might not be nephews and a son-in-law to deal with, but perhaps a hired man? Swords would be of no use in coercion unless one were willing to use them.
Tavit had less experience skulking in shadows than sh
e did and she saw few enough shadows in the farmyard as they approached. A direct approach seemed best. The carriage was left behind a stand of willows along the edge of a narrow track that disappeared quickly into a snowy field.
The cottage was small and snug. The sort that might figure in the dreams of a villager exiled to the city. A bit of yard. No doubt when winter was past she’d be acquiring chickens and perhaps even a cow. A woman used to labor who now had a bit of money could live very comfortably here if her past weren’t pursuing her. A thin thread of smoke rose from the chimney, and they watched from the edge of the trees until confident that she was alone.
“Ready?” Barbara asked Tavit. He nodded.
They crossed the yard swiftly, parting to cover front and back doors. Tavit called out the sort of hail a neighbor might use on approach. They’d weighed the risks of complete surprise against even that much warning. A sudden invasion would be more likely to provoke screams. When Barbara heard the sound of the door opening and a suspicious greeting, she slipped through the back door and latched it behind her. Tavit had driven the woman back in and done the same. Barbara pulled off her hat and shook her hair loose for better recognition. She was on edge for the possibility that they would need to muffle shouts but Feldin was wide-eyed in recognition and just awed enough for silence.
Tavit pushed her down none too gently into a chair and held her there.
“What do you want?” she asked in a mixture of outrage and fear.
“I am quite certain that you know why we’re here,” Barbara said, leaving the woman’s imagination to work on her a few moments yet.
She shook her head, either in denial or refusal.
“You left Rotenek very suddenly,” Barbara began.
Feldin thought she saw a chance to bluff it out. “There wasn’t any work. I told Maisetra Chazillen it was a bad time to be let go. What was I to do but come back home?”
The Mystic Marriage Page 48
