“What?” I asked.
“I want to go with you,” he said.
Victory jumped up and down on Horc’s head. “I’ll go, too. It’s time I see my natural residence.”
“I would enjoy seeing the gold and silver again,” said Horc. “I will go as well.”
I slapped my forehead. “None of you are going. This isn’t for fun. This is troll patrol. Gerald stop giving these two nutbags ideas.”
Victory pumped his fist. “I don’t need Gerald’s ideas. I’m full of it.”
“Yeah, you are,” I said. “But you’re still not going. You’re supposed to be learning Latin. Remember?”
“Yes.” The tiny phalanx stroked his chin. “I can do that later. Latin should be easy since I already speak French, Italian, and Spanish.”
“Look. On my day off I’ll take you for fun,” I said, instantly regretting it. Victory was hard enough to hide in the cathedral. What would he be like in a palace?”
“I will go for fun as well,” announced Horc.
“Good. Now you go to accounting and smell money and I’ll go to the palace and smell trolls. It’s all settled.”
Gerald didn’t meet my eyes.
“Gerald?”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” he said.
“I know. What’s your point?” I was getting anxious. I had to gather the herbs I needed and get to the palace. I didn’t think the empress would like to be kept waiting.
“It’s a family day.” He turned away and I remembered. This would be his first Christmas since his parents died. I was such an idiot.
Miss Penrose came in and rubbed his back. “You can stay with me. I could use some help with my planning.”
Gerald shook his head. I touched his shoulder and he launched himself into my arms, crying.
I mouthed, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Take him,” she mouthed back.
Oh great. That’s just what I need.
“Fine. Can you deal with the nutjobs for me?”
Victory hopped onto Miss Penrose’s shoulder and she scooped up Horc who began telling her about how Master Yik had promised to let him roll in euros as his Christmas present. Weird. She closed the door and I pushed Gerald back.
“We need to talk.”
Pain seized my chest. Stupid spell. There was no way I was going to tell him anything.
“What’s wrong?” Gerald’s eyes went wide with fright.
“Nothing,” I squeaked out. “You can’t ask any questions. None. Not a single one.”
He opened his mouth to ask a question, but then caught himself and nodded.
“Good. Now wait outside, while I change.”
Gerald went out and I put on my puffy-sleeved uniform that Casper liked so much and laced up the pointy boots. Then I went through my stores. There were so many things I wanted to bring. I hadn’t seen my patient in two weeks. I wanted to just go ahead and bring Grandma Vi’s bag, but it was obviously medical and my pockets weren’t big enough. The new carrying bag would have to do. I loaded it with arnica and avocado oil along with all kinds of herbs and a few of Grandma’s tinctures.
I opened the door and Gerald looked at my bag. He stayed quiet. I wasn’t sure he could, but he did.
“Here,” I said, “you carry this.”
He hooked the strap over his head and grinned. “I look like I’m going to college.”
I ran back in the room and got one of the many notebooks he’d been using for his ciphers. I put it in next to a packet of turmeric. “Now you’re all set.”
“To do what?” He slapped a hand over his mouth.
“That one’s to do with you, so it’s okay. It’s for your note-taking.”
“I’m going to take notes?”
“I thought you might visit Sisi’s school.”
Gerald puffed up. “I may consider applying, if it looks good.”
“I may consider letting you,” I said.
“Let’s go.” He ran off down the hall and I said back into the room. “Are you coming or what?”
Fidelé jumped off the window sill where he’d been sleeping with his head under his wing and ran over in his odd gait to be picked up and put in my hood. His claws gripped my shoulder and I ran after Gerald. He was hovering outside the tomb, surrounded by human tourists singing Good King Wenceslas with a huge smile on his face. It was quite a transformation. Maybe school was what he needed. I took his hand and kissed his warm cheek. “We’ll get the application today.”
We landed on the desk in front of Sisi’s portrait. Gerald’s head was swiveling so much, he was going to have a neck ache.
“What room is this?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” I said, peering around the edge of the frame for Casper, but he wasn’t there. When I turned back, Gerald had taken off and was flying around some human tourists wearing black plugs in their ears. “Wait!”
I zipped after him and snagged his wing, but he kept flying. He was aiming for a plaque on a black post next to the velvet rope that held the tourists at bay.
“Emperor Franz Joseph’s study,” he announced after we’d gone around to the front.
I glanced around, feeling a little panicky. I was supposed to be there, but still, being seen by the regular staff wasn’t the greatest idea. “Come on. You can read it later.”
“Where’s the school?” he asked.
“In the Sisi Museum.”
“Let’s go there.”
“In a minute. We’ll get lost. This is the only room I really know how to get to. I have to ask for directions.” I couldn’t imagine what Casper would say to that, but I didn’t think he’d refuse.
I dragged Gerald back over to the desk and looked for Casper again. He still wasn’t there.
“Who are—” Gerald cut himself off and bit his lip.
“This way.” I led him over to where the opening to the stairs was supposed to be, but it was buttoned up tight. I was supposed to be there, wasn’t I? Maybe there was some confusion. Christmas Eve and all. I tapped my foot on the floor and nothing happened, not that I expected it to. I had no special access. That was probably limited to the imperial family, Nanny, and Casper.
Gerald sighed. “Will we have to go home?”
“No,” I said. “They probably don’t realize I’m here.” A little pain in my chest. “For the trolls.” Pain gone.
Gerald knelt down and examined the place where I was tapping. “It’s a magical entrance then.”
“Yes.”
“Did you see how it was opened before?”
“Not really. Scoot back. Maybe I need to knock harder.” I stepped on the spot and jumped up and down, ramming my hard heels into the wood. Nothing. I tried again and the wood folded back when my heels hit. I got a glimpse of Gerald’s astonished face before I tumbled down head-over-heels with dizzying speed. I landed at the foot of the stairs in a heap and when I opened my eyes I saw Casper’s gnarled olive wood painted feet and a pair of shiny boots with musical notes stitched into the fabric.
No. Please. No.
A hand pulled me upright and my pleas weren’t answered. Lysander looked at me, his face twitching with amusement. “You certainly know how to make an entrance.”
“I have…they have.”
One of Lysander’s brows went up.
“Trolls,” I said. “There are trolls in the desk. I have to get them. I have to get them out. Now. That’s my job. I have a job and it’s trolls.”
Casper looked at the ceiling and his branches quivered. You could just see the disappointment in my poor performance. Lysander helped me up and when we were face-to-face, he said, “Smooth.”
“I try.” I bobbed a curtsy to Casper. “I’m ready for work.”
“You’re late,” he said.
“I couldn’t get in.”
“Because you were late.”
“I wasn’t aware that there was a specific time.”
“You should’ve known.” He turned to Lysander so slowly I had time
to straighten up and fix the bow in my hair. “You have the empress’s permission. Perform well or I will hear about it. Your case is not settled as of yet.”
Lysander bowed. “Yes, sir.”
Casper rustled his branches at me. “Follow me and be quick about it. The trolls are completely out of hand.”
Lysander and I watched him turn and start down the hall. Being quick was definitely not necessary.
“What do you have permission for?” I whispered.
Lysander smiled and kissed my hand. “A performance at St. Stephen's tonight for the cardinal. It’s normal for the kapellmeister to entertain the cardinal on Christmas Eve, but I got an invitation to dine with the cathedral staff and the empress has decided to let me.”
I frowned. “Why would she have to let you? Why would she care where you eat?”
“I’m at her beck and call during the holidays. It’s very kind of her to let me go.”
Kind wasn’t the word I’d use for it.
“Will you sit next to me?” he asked.
“Do you have permission for that?” I asked with what I hoped was a saucy grin.
He squeezed my hand and then looked up the stairs. “Do you have an assistant?”
“Gerald!” I ran back up the stairs and found him clutching my bag and trembling.
“Mattie?”
“It’s okay. I’m okay. Sorry. I forgot you were up here.”
“I’m okay. Are you in trouble?” The trembling got worse.
“No. No. Just a little bruised.”
Lysander came up the stairs and held out his hand to Gerald, who looked at it like hands were brand new to him.
“Gerald, you remember Lysander from the organ.”
He took Lysander’s hand and gave it a tiny shake. “The kapellmeister.”
Lysander bowed. “At your service. Are you helping with the trolls?”
“What? Uh, yes. I can do that,” said Gerald.
“Actually, Gerald is going to see Sisi’s school could you maybe give us directions?” I asked.
“I can do better than that,” he said. “I’ll take you myself.”
Lysander started in telling us about how great the school was and Gerald began to relax. I took my bag, gave him his notebook, and the two flew away still talking about the entrance exams and I went back into the depths of the desk.
Casper had just reached the empress’s door when I got there. He knocked and we entered. The empress was again lying on her fainting couch, but she wasn’t limp or in obvious pain.
“She has come,” she said.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Casper.
“I will see her.”
I came forward and did a low curtsy. The empress nodded to me, meeting my eyes, and even having a hint of a smile on her lips.
“May I examine Her Majesty,” I asked Casper.
He hesitated, but then nodded. I started with her feet. They were normal in size and color. The bruises had healed as had the bones.
I pulled down her hem. “I will look at Her Majesty’s hands.”
The empress presented her left hand. It had an amber-colored silk glove, which slipped off more easily than the last glove I’d removed, but it wasn’t the glove. Her hand was smaller, less swollen and discolored. The weird crusty bumps were smaller and softer. The fingers flexed easily and she didn’t wince in pain.
“That’s better,” I said to Casper. “How’s the pain compared to last time? Last time being a level ten.”
“Her Majesty says you may speak to her directly,” he said with a very disapproving look.
The empress gazed at me steadily and I noted her improved condition over all. She’d gained some weight and her cheeks had some color in them.
“How’s the pain, Your Majesty?” I asked.
“I’d say it’s a three.”
I couldn’t have been more surprised. “Really?”
She smiled and a dimple appeared in her plumped up left cheek. “Why are you so shocked? Do you doubt your skill?”
“Sort of. I’ve been taking my best guesses. I don’t even know what’s wrong with you yet.”
The smile dropped off her face. “You have no idea? You received what you asked for, did you not?”
“Yes, but it’s not that simple. I’ve been able to trace the illness, but your ancestors hid it, just like you. Only two healers knew and they didn’t have a clue what it was.”
The empress nodded and I went back to work, checking her arms, chest, and neck. She was lots better, but I was treating the symptoms, not the cause. I needed the cause.
I went over and prepared a new tea that included turmeric for the inflammation. The empress coughed when she drank it and made a face.
“Sorry. I know that’s not a good combo with the camu camu, but I think it will help the swelling.” I began massaging her hands and arms with arnica and switched to avocado oil for her chest and neck.
“Why are you using that oil on my chest?” she asked.
“I think the avocado oil might be good for the bumps and dryness, but you need arnica for your joints.”
She nodded and I finished by washing my hands. When I turned around, she said almost shyly, “I think you are different than those other healers.”
Definitely.
I merely nodded.
“I think you do have a clue.”
I dried my hands and considered what to say or how much to say. But it was her body and her life. Why keep anything secret? “I think you have a congenital illness that’s been passed down the generations like how the Bourbons in France have congestive heart failure. There’s a cure for that and I think I can find a cure for this, if I can find the origin of the illness.”
She sat up sharply. “How do you know that about the Bourbons?”
“I knew Ibn Vermillion, remember?”
“Oh, yes. I forgot. You can’t tell anyone.” She paused. “My daughter, Marie-Constance, is queen of France.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know.”
“Will she inherit this horror from me?” Her eyes were watery and pleading.
“I have to find the cause before I can tell you. I mean, what I can’t understand is why you got it when your parents didn’t or your grandparents or their parents.” I slammed my fist into my palm. “I have to find the origin.”
She smiled. “I believe you will. What more information can I give you?”
“I know who got it first, the second Habsburg emperor. There’s no early unexplained deaths before that. He was the start, but that doesn’t help me much. Do you have family archives that I can go through?”
“Of course,” the empress said, nodding to Casper, who in turn nodded, but he wasn’t happy about it. “Are we done, Mattie?”
She’d said my name and it startled me. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Then Casper will take you to the archives and, Mattie, Casper informed me of what you did for the cardinal during the riot. These services will not be forgotten.”
As long as I keep getting paid, I’m good.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I was dismissed and followed Casper through the desk’s halls at a pace that would’ve made a snail feel superior. We finally reached a double-bolted door and Casper unlocked it with five different keys.
I started to go in, but he stopped me. “This is the family’s private archive. You’re not to speak of it to anyone.”
“Like I could if I wanted to.”
He smiled. “That’s right. Go ahead.”
I entered a dark room and itched to light it up with my fire. Instead, I had to wait for Casper to bring in some golden fungus for light. My fire would’ve been much better for the portraits covering the walls above the shelves of heavy old books.
I walked along the shelves, looking at the portraits. There were so many. I recognized some for the faces from the portraits in the emperor’s office, but most were new to me.
“Where’s the first emperor?” I asked.
Casper took
me to a small portrait done on wood instead of canvas. Leopold the Bold wasn’t a beauty. He was bald, covered in scars, and had a cold, determined look about him. I guess that’s the kind of guy it takes to start an imperial dynasty. Next to the first emperor was his son Rudolph I. He was much better looking. Long blond hair and no scars. That was a plus, but he was the first to have the illness. Next to him was his wife, Leonetta of Naples. She’d been an imported princess from Italy. I remembered her. From there it went down the line.
“Where’s the first empress?” I asked.
Casper squinted at the wall. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a portrait of her.”
“Never?”
His leaves rustled. “Never. Is it important?”
“Maybe. Do you have a family tree in here?”
Casper got a super-sized roll of parchment out of a case and we spread it out on a wide table in the center of the room. There she was, Ansgar. On that parchment her name was very faint, like someone had tried to rub it out. She wasn’t on my copy at all. I suspected that she appeared only on this one private copy and there was no death date, no place of origin, no family connections at all. All the other spouses had their full name, but not Ansgar. It was one name only. She produced seven children. Six died at birth. Only Rudolph lived. That had to mean something.
“What do you know about her?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just the name,” said Casper. “Do you think it came from her?”
“Yes. Help me find some records of her. There must be a diary. Something.”
But there wasn’t. Emperor Leopold had written his memoirs at the end of his long life and hadn’t mentioned Ansgar once. He only said that his beloved son was born. If he knew about the illness, he didn’t say so, even though Rudolph died before him and his grandson inherited the throne.
Casper and I went through book after book and we came up empty. All I was able to find out, and it wasn’t easy, was that Emperor Leopold wasn’t expected to win the civil war that raged for nine years and that he was by all accounts losing. I mean he was really losing. In the last battle, his troops were outnumbered seven to one. We found a packet of dispatches from a spy who said that Leopold the Bold’s troops were ragged, badly equipped, and, my favorite, obviously idiots. So how did that guy win?
Then I saw the date on the dispatch and recognized it. I doubled-checked on the family tree and I was right. Both the dispatch and the emperor’s marriage were two days before the deciding battle.
Wicked Chill (Away From Whipplethorn Book Four) Page 32
