I found the notes on three more emperors and one empress. Nothing. Their healers weren’t told what they were treating and their patients died screaming in agony. That was a common thread; agony. Another was the life expectancy. The empress didn’t have too long, unless I figured it out. She, too, would die screaming and Austria would fall apart.
My family tree got a bunch more lines filled in, each with healer names and treatments tried. Nothing worked. What I was doing was better than anything they’d done, but that was because of my fire. It changed things in my treatments and made them stronger, more effective. But I couldn’t kid myself, there was no cure in those books. I opened one of the medical volumes the emperor had sent over and spent the rest of the day reading about skin ailments. I’ve got to say it was pretty gross and no help at all. I did find the spell for the horen antidote under skin ulcerations. Healer Lieber, the author, seemed to think the fact that horen claws went through the skin was the important factor. It was 1812 and he also thought licking leeches cured headaches. I won’t even mention his ideas on diarrhea. It wasn’t pretty or sanitary.
I don’t know how long I was there. My eyes were aching and my back tight. Victory continued his study of Mandarin on the desk as I craned my neck. I was doing something wrong and I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Iris might’ve been able to give me a new way to look at it, but I couldn’t ask.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said to myself.
Victory scuttled off the desk before I could stop him and climbed onto the medical book. “Why are you reading this? Is there a disease among my troops? I must have all information.”
“No disease in your troops, since you have no troops.” There was a twinge of pain in my chest, a little reminder of my limitations. “I’m just studying, like you.”
“Studying’s good for future conquest,” he declared.
“Yeah, sure.”
“You don’t believe me. I am Victory, speaker of Mandarin.”
“Already?” I asked.
He said something completely unrecognizable.
“Okay. That was fast.”
“Why be slow?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Sometimes you have no choice.” I rolled up the family trees and tied them with ribbon. Then started my dusting and cataloging of the volumes I’d used.
Victory paced back and forth on a volume. “I don’t agree and neither does Napoleon.”
“Who?” I asked.
“French emperor. A great leader. The best.”
“What species?”
“Human.”
“You’re studying humans now?”
“I’m studying the origin of greatness. The species doesn’t matter. The origin is everything.” He pumped his tiny fist. “I will study Latin, the origin of language.”
“What did you say?” I asked.
“I will study Latin, the origin of language.”
“Before that.”
“Origin is everything,” said Victory.
“Origin is everything,” I repeated.
“You agree. Of course you do. I am Victory.” Fist pump.
“That’s what I’ve been doing wrong. It’s about the beginning, not the result.”
“My beginning is awesome,” declared Victory. “That’s why mother says I’m the best phalanx ever.”
What happened? Where did this illness start?
“Uh, huh,” I said, reaching for the family tree, but Victory hopped on my hand.
“Someone’s coming,” he told me before leaping into my hood.
I picked up my quill and began translating a book’s title from German to English. It turned out to be Emperor Joseph III, Laws and Initiatives. It was a good thing that the cardinal wasn’t writing the imperial history. He’d probably die of boredom.
A shiny pointy shoe stepped in front of me and I looked up into the stern face of the master secretary.
“Hard at work, I see,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes roamed around the piles of books. I watched him noting the medical titles and then the unmade bed with that morning’s breakfast tray sitting beside it.
“I’ve been cataloging a lot this morning,” I said, quickly.
“You will have to write faster.” He plucked at the rumpled duvet. “Rickard wants his job back.”
“I’ll do better.”
“Yes, you will. Rickard still has his key,” he said with a glare.
Oh, no!
I jumped up and started cleaning at record speed. The master secretary watched me with arms crossed. Once I finished, he pointed at a trunk in the corner of the room and tossed me a large brass key. “You’re not quite done.”
I opened the trunk and found it filled with mementos from the cardinal’s career in the church, his childhood, and family. It was his treasure trunk. I put the imperial family trees inside with a few random books and diaries to make them look less important and then locked the trunk. I offered the key to the master secretary, but he shook his head and I pocketed it.
“Go to the kitchens. Aoife needs some pot scrubbing and more water,” he said, dismissing me.
We left the cardinal’s apartment and the master secretary locked the door behind us and then said loudly, at least it seemed like it would be loud to me, “Go to the kitchens. Aoife needs some pot scrubbing and more water,” he repeated. “When you’re finished with Aoife’s work, you can bathe Master Horc. His stink is a bit rancid for the Christmas Eve celebrations tomorrow.”
He was looking at me funny and I nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll get it done.”
The master secretary stomped down the hall and I followed with a glance over my shoulder. Someone was at the end of the hall. I couldn’t see who it was. A shadow on the wall was the only clue, but I was willing to bet it was Rickard, eavesdropping.
I hurried away, so fast that I ignored Victory’s tapping on my neck until I got outside.
“What?” I whispered as I spread my wings and took off for the kitchens.
He tapped. “Master Secretary put a spell on trunk.”
“What kind?”
“Protection,” he tapped. “He knows.”
A pain ripped through my chest and I lost feet in altitude. “Knows what?” I barely managed to say and the pain subsided. What was I thinking? If Victory could learn Mandarin in three days, he could figure out what I was up to with almost zero effort.
“Something,” he tapped and I felt his tiny arms extend and hug my neck. It didn’t help much, except to remind me of what the cardinal said. Victory was my family. He was on my side. The master secretary wasn’t. With him, something was bad. For me, for the empress, and even Austria. The master secretary hadn’t signed any contract and he was no fan of mine. Yes. Something could be a disaster.
Chapter Twenty-nine
AOIFE WAS SINGING in the kitchen the next morning when I retrieved the teapot from its spot next to her favorite stove. Somehow it got returned there every day after its visits to the palace and I was afraid to question it.
Lonica ran in with ropes of fir needles wrapped around her waist and shoulders. The smell of the garland mixed in with apple strudel Aoife had just pulled out of the oven and it became Christmas in that moment.
“Did you hear?” Lonica asked.
“Hear what?” My stomach dropped. I’d been up half the night worrying about who knew what and how long it could possibly be kept a secret.
Lonica snipped off a bit of garland and put it on the cardinal’s breakfast tray. “His Grace is lifting the mourning. We can go out to the Christmas market tonight and hear the singing.”
“Really?”
“What’s wrong?” asked Lonica. “Aren’t you happy? The mourning is over.”
I should’ve been happy. Of course, I should’ve been. It would be good to get back to normal, but I’d gotten so used to being closeted in the cathedral that in a strange way I’d begun to feel safe. The cardinal was doing well and the system of delivering
my potions to the palace kept anyone from noticing me. What had Lysander said? Be a stranger in the palace. That was going to be tough.
“Yes,” I said. “Of course.”
Aoife finished making up the cardinal’s breakfast tray and handed it to me. “Hurry up now. His Grace is going out today.”
“Oh, no. Really? Where?” I asked, hooking the teapot over my arm and taking the tray.
They both frowned at me and Aoife said, “To visit the churches and see the people as he does every year. Why should that rate an ‘Oh no’?”
“Well…he’s just been getting so sick. I thought maybe he would stay in.”
“Not the cardinal,” said Lonica. “He would go out if at all possible. It’s part of Christmas.”
I nodded and smiled, while not feeling a bit smiley. Lonica made me a necklace of fir needles and went back to her bake-a-thon. I flew out to the pulpit, passing hordes of happy tourists, fairy and human alike. There was lots of wishing Merry Christmas in multiple languages. Iris flew by with Horc. They were both smiling so wide their jaws would be hurting at the end of the day.
“See you later!” called out Iris before she headed towards Master Yik’s accounting office. It looked like everyone would be working on Christmas Eve. The docents were giving tours, the cooks cooking, the cardinal doing his stuff, the secretaries doing whatever it was that they did, and I would be cleaning my chamber pots and pretending that I wasn’t a healer serving the empress.
I flew into the pulpit and trotted directly to the cardinal’s apartment. No one answered the door when I knocked, so I tried the door and found it unlocked. The cardinal looked up from his desk as I entered. “Merry Christmas Eve, Mattie.”
“Merry Christmas Eve, Your Grace.” I set the tray beside him on the desk and made his morning tea at his bedside table. I turned my back on him to hide my heating it and then gave him his first cup. He sipped it and scanned a list of churches with times.
“Should I do my cataloging now or later?” I asked.
“Later I should think. You’ve other work to do at the palace.” He waved a small note on thick paper and I recognized Casper’s handwriting on it.
“Then I’d better go, so I can get done in time for the big dinner.”
“Yes, Mattie go on. Apparently, the troll situation is quite dire over there and you are the only one who can deal with them,” said the cardinal. “Oh, yes, and send Iris to me at once. I’d like her to accompany me today.”
I bobbed another curtsy and didn’t question it. Iris had spent quite a bit of time with the cardinal when he was recovering from the riots. She went with him to his office, met visitors, and made sure he ate. She and the master secretary helped him to walk and Iris was my ears as always when the cardinal’s healer came. She said the healer thought he was getting over his liver trouble, but she didn’t think he was really sure what was wrong in the first place. Not very comforting, but good to know.
I flew directly back to the tomb to find Iris heading out and I told her to go to the cardinal.
“I get to go the churches on the Christmas visits with His Grace. Can you believe it?”
“You’ve been very helpful while he was sick. You earned it,” I said and she rushed off.
Gerald stuck his head out of my door and looked both ways before saying, “It’s a good thing you’re back. Come on.”
I followed him into my room and he closed the door. Miss Penrose, Delphine, Horc, and Victory were all there. Each one was gathered around my bed. The Home Depot fairies had built Bentha a trundle bed that could be pushed under my bed so he could be concealed. Delphine and Miss Penrose pulled out the trundle and Bentha’s body was there, still as usual. The only sign of life was Rufus, glowing orange on Bentha’s chest. The lizard blinked at me and glowed brighter. Rufus had taken to sitting on Bentha all on his own. I didn’t know if it was helpful, but it didn’t seem to be hurting anything, so I let the lizard do his thing.
“What am I looking for?” I’d soaked Bentha in a hot bath of his usual mixture early that morning and there was no change, unless you counted a slight loosening of the joints.
Miss Penrose pulled back the blanket, exposing Bentha’s right arm. It had been healing nicely and he had decent blood flow in his fingertips now.
“Look I have to go. The palace has more trolls and I get to go chuck them out,” I said.
“Wait. Just wait,” said Delphine. Her eyes were streaming, but for once she was smiling through the tears.
I went over. Bentha’s face had filled out considerably in the last two weeks. He no longer looked like a corn husk. He was back to being a ponderosa, a dried out one, but a ponderosa all the same. I was about to complain and leave when I saw it. His right hand flexed and he lifted it off the mattress. I dropped to my knees and took it. There was warmth in his fingers.
“That is a great improvement,” said Horc.
“My warrior is healing well.” Victory hopped on Horc’s head and made a victorious stance.
“He is not your warrior.”
“All warriors are mine. They just don’t know it yet.”
“Quiet,” I said. “What was he doing this morning?”
“He moved his fingers,” said Miss Penrose. “But he didn’t raise his hand. That was fast. Do you think he’ll be able to talk soon? Maybe tonight.”
“He might be able to talk now,” I said.
Miss Penrose gasped and Delphine clutched her heart. “Oh please, Bentha tell me about Roberto, please.”
“I didn’t mean like that. I meant he might be able to communicate.” I placed Bentha’s hand on my palm. “Bentha, if you can hear me tap your index finger one time.”
After a long minute, his long finger lifted and tapped one single time. Delphine burst into tears and Miss Penrose had to threaten to throw her out if she didn’t be quiet.
“Bentha, were you in prison in France?” I asked.
One tap.
“Was everyone else with you?”
One tap.
“Was Roberto okay?” burst out Delphine.
One tap.
Delphine staggered over to the other side of the room, sobbing.
“Do you know what happened to them after you were attacked?” I asked.
Nothing. His finger didn’t twitch.
“Ask him again,” said Miss Penrose and I did with the same result.
“Do you know where you were?” I asked.
A very weak tap.
“Were you all at the Abbey of Saint-Germain-Des-Prés?”
No tap.
“He was at the abbey,” said Victory pacing on Horc’s noggin.
“How do you know?” asked Horc scowling up past his eyebrow lumps.
“That’s where the massacre was. His wounds are consistent and so was the vision in the spell.”
I sat back on my heels and said, “Maybe he was there, but they weren’t. Bentha, were you at the Abbey of Saint-Germain-Des-Prés?”
One very weak tap.
“Yes!” said Victory.
“Quiet,” I said. “This isn’t exactly good news.”
“It’s always good news when I am right.”
“Not today.” I patted Bentha’s hand. “Bentha, were you and Lrag separated from everyone else?”
Nothing.
“Is he still awake?” asked Delphine. “He’s very weak.”
One barely there tap.
“He is awake, but I think I’m asking the wrong question,” I said. “But I don’t know what the right one is.”
Gerald touched my shoulder, his face grave. “I do.”
“What is it?”
“Was Daiki with you, Bentha?” he asked.
One tiny tap.
That was the right question. “Did they separate the warriors from everyone else?”
One little rustle in my palm.
“I think he’s out again,” I said.
“What do we know now?” asked Miss Penrose.
“We know,” sa
id Gerald, assuming his lecturing stance, “that the parents and my grandmother, and Roberto were alive when Bentha last saw them and they weren’t at the abbey when the massacre happened.”
“That’s good news, right?”
“Yes,” said Delphine, turning away to hide her distress. It didn’t work very well with the convulsing shoulders.
“Miss Penrose, can you take Delphine to your room?” I asked.
“Yes, but I—” Her head jerked toward the door and she mouthed, “Knocking.”
I quickly covered up Bentha and pushed him under my bed, pulling down the covers to drape over the side.
Gerald opened the door. It was Rickard, his face like something had just peed on him and from the smell of him, something had.
“The master secretary says you’re to go to the palace now,” he said.
“Okay.” I didn’t move.
“Now.”
“I understand now, but I’m not ready. I have to…change my uniform,” I said. “The palace likes the one you gave me.”
His lip twitched. “How long will you be gone?”
“As long as it takes. You know how trolls are.”
An involuntary shudder went through his slim body. “Yes, I do.”
I closed the door and we all waited while Gerald pressed his ear to the door. After a minute, he said, “He’s gone.”
“Alright,” I said, shooing them out of the room under the pretense that I had to change. Miss Penrose and Delphine left easily enough, but Gerald loitered, shifting his feet and looking paler than he had in days.
Wicked Chill (Away From Whipplethorn Book Four) Page 31
