I saw it leave him, like wind washing over water, and I wished for a moment we might stay longer. I had not known this man, and I thought that I wished I had.
"Ascend the stairs," Noirtier said. "As slowly or as quickly as you wish. Up, up, up. Higher and higher, until you return to yourself, until you return to the present day, to the personality that matches the body you wear, that of Michel Ney."
I watched him climb, his face settling as he did, familiar lines of tension returning. When at last he opened his eyes they were the same I had known, sleepy, as though wakened suddenly from a deep sleep. His hands moved, and his brow furrowed.
"Noirtier?"
"Do you remember what I asked you to?" Reille asked.
He hesitated, then nodded.
"Good," Reille said. "Now before you do anything else, tell Corbineau what you remember. Sit there with him and give it to him straight." He glanced around the circle, and then at Lannes. "I think we can take the circle down while he does it. We're all exhausted."
I let out a breath. My legs were cramped, and Michel sat up with difficulty, stiff as though he had been in the saddle all day.
"Let's take down," Lannes said. "Subervie? Take North if you will. Let's keep Michel off a quarter for a while yet."
With a nod Subervie stepped up, and I sat with head bowed while the Lodge took down the circle, distractingly aware of Michel on the other side of the circle talking to Corbineau in a tone too low for me to hear. I thought Reille wanted to hear too, but as he was calling the south quarter he couldn't move until the benediction was complete.
As soon as it was, and everyone moved at last, Reille scooted across to loom over Corbineau, listening intently.
"Let him be," Lannes said to Noirtier. "It's a good thing one of us knows some history." He caught my eye and grinned. "My father ran a livery stable. I didn't learn much history there!" I doubted that Subervie had learned much as a busboy, or Corbineau as a groom either, though presumably Duplessis had some education to become a doctor.
I stood up, stretching. "I will go change then," I said. "If you do not mind." It was somewhat irritating walking around in a sheet, but I thought I was beginning to get the hang of draping it.
By the time I returned the servants were bringing in a cold collation, and Subervie and Duplessis were already helping themselves, still attired in their white silk robes with white sashes. Michel, Corbineau and Reille were in the corner, Corbineau scratching away madly.
"Eggs, Madame?" Subervie offered. "Very sustaining."
"Which we need after four hours," Max Duplessis said, a slice of ham on his fork.
"Four hours?"
"It's nearly one in the morning," Duplessis said. His glasses were perched on the end of his nose. Behind them were a very keen pair of gray eyes. "That was as long as it felt."
"I had no idea," I said. The food looked very, very good.
In the corner the group was breaking up, Michel and Reille heading off to change, still talking animatedly. Michel moved stiffly, but otherwise seemed unharmed. Of course he was stiff, I thought. He had lain in one position for more than three hours, caught in Noirtier's spell.
I went and stood at Noirtier's elbow as he helped himself to strawberries. "Monsieur, a word with you."
"Yes?" He looked surprised, as I had hitherto avoided him.
"How do you do that?"
"It is called Mesmerism, Madame. A technique invented by my colleague, Dr. Franz Mesmer. His initial application was the reduction of pain in patients who are chronically ill. As you may know, tuberculosis and certain cancers can cause a great deal of suffering before finally resulting in death, and the administration of opiates in quantities large enough to reduce pain often leaves the patient unconscious, and certainly incapable of spending their last days with their loved ones in any meaningful way. It was his discovery that the application of these mental principles often resulted in a considerable reduction in pain without reduction of the patient's mental clarity."
"Colonel Subervie said something about animal magnetism?"
Noirtier nodded. "Dr. Mesmer believes that there are electrical forces in the body, tiny charges that move along pathways we do not understand, and that the flow of these electrical forces can be influenced by the use of magnets. Thus, in theory, fluids could be prevented from pooling in one organ or another, or even the heart be restarted by sufficient magnetic or electrical force. However, his experiments were not uniformly successful, and with a charge of heresy hanging over him he left Vienna for Paris some four years ago. I have been privileged to see some of his more esoteric workings in Paris, as we are fellow members of the Lodge of Nine Sisters."
"The Grand Orient Lodge in Paris?" I was a little startled, as it was well known and thoroughly above board.
"The Masonic lodge of Voltaire and Franklin," Noirtier said proudly. "I was also pleased to stand as a sponsor for your friend Ney when he joined the Nine Sisters several years ago."
I blinked. Michel had said nothing of that, other than that he belonged to a more conventional lodge as well as this.
"In any event, I had seen a demonstration of this, but had never performed it. I am quite pleased the operation was successful."
"I want to learn it," I said.
Noirtier's eyebrows rose. "You are a woman, Madame."
"I have noticed," I said. "Is that germane?"
He spread his hands. "Of course. This sort of working is the province of men. Women are Doves, not magicians."
I had thought he would say that, but I knew where his weakness was. "Can you imagine a better way to control oracular talent?" I asked. "Do not some of the outer trappings, including the smoke and incense, remind you of the descriptions of the great oracles of the past? The oracle at Delphi, for example, sat on a tripod breathing in the scented smoke, while priests chanted about her. You have seen what I can do, untrained and spontaneously. Don't you want to see what I can do at my best?" I gave him a sweet and disingenuous smile. "Dr. Mesmer's techniques hold great promise in helping me improve upon the talents that Nature has given me. Think of the good we could do for France!"
His eyes brightened. "There is something in that," he said.
"I should like to ask Dr. Mesmer when I am next in Paris," I said. "All I ask of you is a letter of introduction. If he will not see me," I shrugged. "Then of course I will bow to his greater judgment."
"I suppose there is no harm in asking," he said.
Everyone had full plates by now, and the servants were being ushered out by Subervie. Lannes rang his fork against his glass. "May I call you back for a moment, gentlemen?"
The room quieted, and I turned, plate in hand, to watch. "Thanks to the good work of Marshal Ney, ably assisted by M. Noirtier, General Reille and the scribing talents of Major Corbineau, we have a good deal more to go on." He glanced at Reille. "General, would you like to briefly explain what we've got?"
Reille seemed even more tall and lanky as everyone turned toward him, a little awkward in a way that many women would find charming. "It's complicated, but I'll try to boil it down. If they're doing this the same way they did the Armada working, we're in trouble. It's a fairly simple working, actually, more low magic than high Hermetics, but very effective and with a lot of energy behind it. They're running that air elemental off an almost unlimited source of power, and without disrupting the physical components of the working wherever they are in England," he paused to let that sink in, "we're going to have to fight the thing."
"Physical components in England?" Duplessis asked. "What kind of physical components?"
"Elemental symbols, a conjuration circle of some kind, possibly centered on a relic. My guess would be the drum once belonging to Sir Francis Drake." Honoré Reille shook his head. "We don't have any idea where they are, nor could we get to them. And then there's some physical component that they've put on every British ship to serve as a guide for the power, and also to exclude their ships from the air elemental's attacks. We'd hav
e to find out what it is and remove it from every ship."
"Like the colors or something? Something of symbolic nature that would be on every ship?" Subervie asked.
Reille nodded.
"If we could remove the colors from every British ship we would have already won," Corbineau observed dryly.
"Which leaves 'punch through it,'" Reille said. "And it's got an absolutely enormous amount of energy."
Lannes shook his head. "Where are they getting that kind of power? They'd need a dozen Lodges at work all the time around the clock!"
Reille looked at Michel, who nodded and stepped up. "Not if they've tied it into the power of Story itself, into the Robin Hood and King Arthur, into the sword in the stone and Drake on the deep, into the primal folk beliefs of Britain itself. Green Albion sits unconquered and unconquerable, guarded by the seas, guarded by Bran's head and Solomon's seal. It's running on the belief of tens of thousands of ordinary Britons who believe." Michel looked solemn. "Tens of thousands of people who believe that Drake will come when his drum is played, and Lionheart died for England."
"That's almost unlimited energy," Lannes said.
"Yes," Michel said. "That's the problem." A ghost of a smile played across his face. "We did set it up rather well."
Subervie blew out a long breath. I could not see how it was to be done. I had seen the power in the air elemental, and I knew I could not touch a hundredth of it.
"Fortunately," Honoré said, "I have an idea." Everyone turned and looked at him again. "You fight Story with Story."
The Symposium
The Lodge broke up within the hour, Honoré to work on his idea, and the others to go get some sleep before the School of War convened the next morning. Lannes was talking to Michel by the buffet table, and I heard him ask quietly, "Michel, do you want to stay here tonight? It's a castle. It's got lots of guest rooms. And you don’t look like you're riding back to Montreuil tonight."
Michel did look fairly terrible. He hesitated, then nodded. "If you don't mind, Jean. I've got to be back here for a staff meeting at ten anyhow. I'd appreciate it."
"It's no trouble," Lannes said. "We've got plenty of guest rooms. I'll send my man to turn down a bed for you."
"Thanks," Michel said. He looked utterly exhausted.
I caught up with Michel in the hall. "Are you all right?" I did not trust Noirtier not to have made some sort of mistake.
"Just tired." We stood in the hallway for a moment, looking at one another. There was a strange expression on his face, as though something disturbed him still. What had he seen? What had he remembered?
"What was it like?" I asked. "Being someone different."
"Interesting. Strange. And not strange at all." He was still looking at me that way, as though he sought something elusive in my face.
"In the service of Queen Elizabeth."
"Oh. Yes." His brow furrowed. We were standing too close in the empty hallway, the sounds of everyone else leaving muted behind us. "You were worried about me."
"Of course I worry about you," I said. "I never said I didn't. Don't you think I will worry about you when you're off to invade England?"
"I suppose," he said.
I put my head to the side. "And doesn't the Earl of Leicester have decidedly mixed feelings about that? Invading England is bad?"
Michel smiled ruefully. "I begin to think that in my time I have invaded nearly everywhere and defended nearly everything. I have been left for the kites by Romans, and returned to kill as one. I have to place my allegiance in something bigger than national borders or people who speak the same language."
"In what, then?" He smelled like wine and sweat, as though he had brought a hint of incense from the wedding feast. Though of course it was our incense, in the circle.
"In God," he said. "And in this temple we are building, all of humanity together. I have to believe there is purpose to it, that God needs a man who works in the slaughterhouse."
I put my hand on his arm. "Michel…."
He flinched as though my touch burned. I lifted my hand carefully away, feeling that flinch stab me through the heart. I should have known it would affect him, and I was breaking the rules already.
He seized my hand and put it back, his mouth set. "I'm sorry. I don't mean…."
"No," I said, my hand still clasped between his. "I'm sorry. I should not…."
"I never listen to you."
"You never shut up long enough," I said, but I smiled. I could not quite see what had brought this on.
"I don't," he said. "It's a flaw."
"All this from the Earl of Leicester?" I asked.
Michel snorted, looking over my shoulder at the distant wall. "And there's a man who made a pretty mess, spending his life between defending himself for the murder of a woman he didn't kill and the accusation of fornication with the woman he didn't marry."
"That's gone over my head, Michel," I said. "I haven't read a lot of modern history either."
Michel shrugged. "Never mind. It was two centuries ago."
"I don't understand," I said.
He squeezed my hand between his. "I know. But it doesn't matter. Good night, Elza." He let go and went off down the hall to the guest room Lannes had offered him.
Corbineau came up behind me. "All over between you?" he asked with an arched brow.
"Jean-Baptiste…." I put my head in my hands.
Corbineau gathered me against his chest in a warm embrace. "Here now, dearest. Men are shit, aren't they?"
I laughed and put my head against his breast. "Some of them. Not you."
"I'm glad to hear that," he said. "Come on. I'll walk you back to your cottage, not that I think you need protecting. God help the footpad who ran into you!"
"I'm not particularly armed at the moment," I said.
Corbineau held me at arms' length and looked at me seriously. "You might want to reconsider that. The closer you get to finding our spy, the more desperate…."
I nodded. "You have a point. I'd best start carrying a pistol. It's a little more discreet than walking about in a dress wearing a saber."
"Speaking of which, do you want to join me at the fencing salle tomorrow afternoon? You could probably use some practice, and because there's a senior staff meeting tomorrow we don't have an exercise to play."
"That sounds wonderful," I said.
The next day I met Corbineau at M. Clanet's salle, dressed as Charles and ready for practice. It seemed that much of Boulogne kept late hours, or perhaps it was too beautiful a day to spend indoors, but in early afternoon there were only a few men there. One was clearly there for a private lesson with the maestro, while others were practicing in pairs. Corbineau had paid a membership fee, so we took off our coats and went to work.
It felt very good. I was not as smooth as he was, but we were of a height and build, so neither of us had much advantage. His style was dirtier than mine, the style of a man who had learned first in the field and then refined it with lessons, whereas I had begun as a child under my father's tutelage learning the formal style of the duel when I was six years old.
We had been at it nearly an hour, working up a good sweat, when Reille and Subervie came in, so we stopped and watched them for a bit. I watched Corbineau lose money on a wager match.
"It doesn't matter," Corbineau said. "Not when my friend Charles here could roll Gervais up."
Reille's eyebrows rose. Most of the members of the salle might be convinced I was some friend of Corbineau's named Charles, but the Lodge members knew I was a woman.
"I can't say I'd take that bet," Subervie said, coloring. "Wouldn't be sporting."
At that there were derisive hoots from the men who didn't know who I was.
"So little confidence?" Corbineau asked lightly.
"I wouldn't want to hurt the …er…young man…." Subervie stuttered, looking daggers at Corbineau.
I decided to rescue him, as I liked him very much. "I am not so young, nor in fear of your sword, Col
onel. I would be delighted to make a match with you," I said, with a courteous bow.
"I'm going to kill you, Jean-Baptiste," Subervie hissed. "I can't fight a…."
"Gentleman so young?" Reille put in, a smile playing about his lips. "Then I will relieve you of the burden." He gave me a sharp nod. "I'm handicapped here, so I will give you this -- hold me off five minutes from a body touch. Limb touches don't count."
At that the gathering crowd ooohed and started placing bets, as Reille was well known as a fencer. And, standing well above six feet, he had both the reach and weight of me.
"Done," I said with a negligent shrug, the excitement already chorusing through my veins. "It will be my pleasure, General."
"Fifty francs on my friend Charles!" Corbineau shouted. The bookmaker started giving him six to one odds.
I took my coat back off and made a few more passes with the practice foil. Corbineau leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Damnation. I thought you could take Gervais."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence," I said, but I was anything but sanguine about fencing Reille, myself. I'd seen him cross blades with Michel, and I had never been anywhere near Michel's league.
Subervie leaned in on the other side. "Madame, you don't have to do this. Some harebrained scheme of Corbineau's…." He gave Corbineau a stern look. "It's most unsuitable."
"My dear Subervie," I said. "I am most unsuitable, as you are no doubt learning." I pushed my hair back behind my ears and stepped out in to the center to salute.
Reille had taken off his coat as well, and fenced in dark blue waistcoat and breeches. He gave me a courteous nod. "Ready?"
"Ready," I said, and when the timer gave the signal we began.
Our blades barely kissed in the middle, sliding together and then apart. He waited in guard, his eyes on my face.
Pretty dark eyes, I thought, and fierce at last. This was something that moved him to passion.
Yet he was cool. A quick exchange of points, but he did not even change expression, collected and still. He is a thinking one, I thought. He doesn't go hot in the field either, I imagine. He goes cold. Ice is worse than heat, sometimes.
Jo Graham - [Numinous World 05] Page 25
