Part 22 (1/2)
Since she had learned about Kaspar Linnaius's escape, she had been on edge, unable to settle to any task. They had been idle in Colchise for too long and she was restless. She had almost begun to believe that Ruaud had deliberately chosen to leave her in Smarna.
To protect me? Or to keep me from causing trouble for the Commanderie?
At last she heard horse's hooves on the cliff road. She hurried out into the courtyard, only to be a.s.sailed by the afternoon's heat, rich with the lemony perfume of the late roses in the garden.
A lone horseman rode into the courtyard; it was Jagu.
”Where have have you been? You're over two hours late!” you been? You're over two hours late!”
He dismounted and, as the stable lad came out to take the reins of his horse, he gave her a warning look that said, ”Not out here.”
So she was obliged to wait until her new maid, Nanette, had brought some iced tea. Jagu, taking a long sip, eventually said, ”Colchise is in an uproar.” She noticed that a little muscle at the side of his eye had begun to twitch from time to time. ”Eguiner has had Rafael Lukan arrested on charges of heresy. And what's happened? All the students have gathered at the university to protest.”
”Why didn't Eguiner bide his time?”
”The Inquisition must be planning to make an example of him. Such tactics might work at home in Francia, but here, in Smarna?”
”I can't pretend I like this mission, Jagu. And I can't help wondering why the Maistre left us behind.” Celestine took a deep breath and asked the question that had been bothering her: ”Doesn't he trust me anymore?”
”I'm sure that's not the case,” said Jagu, maybe a little too quickly. She did not feel in the least rea.s.sured. ”Celestine,” he went on, ”I've been drafted in by Eguiner to help defend the citadel. I have to go back straightaway. The recital may have to be postponed.”
So there was nothing for her to do. She turned away from him, not wanting him to see how angry and frustrated she felt.
”How are the sittings going for the portrait?”
She gave a little shrug. ”Madame Andara is an accomplished artist. She's also extremely discreet. I don't think she's going to confide any of her family secrets to me, Jagu. Quite frankly, I think it's a waste of my time-and the Commanderie's funds.”
”I'll be in touch again as soon as I have any new information.” He rose, setting down the empty gla.s.s. ”Be careful, Celestine. Don't do anything rash.”
”As if I would!” she cried, stung that he should speak so patronizingly to her.
A puzzled, hurt look clouded his eyes. ”I just meant-that if-oh, never mind.”
”One of your agents has been causing the council some concern, Maistre,” said Inquisitor Visant.
”One of my my agents?” Ruaud looked up into the Inquisitor's eyes and saw that cold, keen light he recognized of old; when Visant set his mind to a problem, he pursued it with a single-minded dedication that came close to obsession. agents?” Ruaud looked up into the Inquisitor's eyes and saw that cold, keen light he recognized of old; when Visant set his mind to a problem, he pursued it with a single-minded dedication that came close to obsession.
”We've had our suspicions for some time.”
”I have no idea to whom you're referring.” But Ruaud knew all too well that Visant meant Celestine.
”One of my men was in the raiding party that went to Saint Sergius. Demoiselle de Joyeuse was twice observed to use some iridescent dust that caused those who inhaled it to fall instantly into a deep sleep.”
”Your man must have a strong imagination.” So there had been an Inquisition agent among Ruaud's Guerriers, spying and reporting back to Visant. A discomfiting thought. ”A dust that causes instant sleep?”
”There was a recipe for just such a dust in the books that were burned on Kaspar Linnaius's pyre.”
Ruaud sighed. ”Proof. I need proof, Visant, before I can order her arrest.”
”If the Commanderie is seen to condone such dangerous arts, your reputation will be tarnished beyond repair. You must make an example of her.”
”How can we bring her to trial without firm evidence?” insisted Ruaud.
”One could almost believe that she has bewitched you too, Maistre, with those angelic blue eyes.”
”That is a very serious allegation, Inquisitor,” said Ruaud coldly.
”Which can easily be disproved by bringing the young woman before a Commanderie tribunal. If she is innocent, she will walk free. If guilty...”
Ruaud stared at Visant, knowing himself outmaneuvered. What, I wonder, do you really wish to gain from this, Inquisitor? Are you out to discredit me, so that you can become Grand Maistre in your turn? What, I wonder, do you really wish to gain from this, Inquisitor? Are you out to discredit me, so that you can become Grand Maistre in your turn?
”Then recall her. But be prepared. If she is guilty, as I strongly suspect she is, she will try to escape. And she knows far too much to be allowed to go blabbing our secrets to our enemies.”
”I think you have misread Celestine de Joyeuse's character,” said Ruaud. He was sure that she would comply with his request and prove Visant wrong. ”But I will have her brought back from Smarna. And then she is yours for questioning.”
A knock at the door interrupted them; one of the king's household came in and bowed. ”His majesty requests your presence urgently, Maistre.”
Ruaud rose from his desk, wondering what this urgent summons might mean. Enguerrand had been behaving rather strangely of late and the king's obsession with defeating the Drakhaouls had begun to worry him. ”Is he ill?”
”Let me take care of this little matter, Ruaud,” said Visant smoothly. ”All I need is your authorization.”
”What?” Ruaud's mind was already elsewhere. ”Oh, yes; of course...” He hastily scribbled an order, sealed it, and handed it to Visant, before hurrying after the servant to attend to the king.
”There must be something I can do...” Celestine leafed through her father's grimoire. She was almost sick with boredom and inactivity.
Was it by accident that the pages fell open at a glamour that proclaimed it would ”draw out the truth from the unsuspecting? It loosens the tongues of the unwary, causing them to reveal all manner of secrets,” read the spidery writing. ”But to trans.m.u.te the ingredients, to imbue them with your own life essence so that they become an agent of your will, is a risky enterprise and not one to be lightly undertaken.”
This was one errand that Celestine could not entrust to her maid; she had even begun to wonder whether Nanette might be an agent of the Inquisition, sent by Visant to spy on her. So she set off alone, taking a parasol to protect her complexion from the sun, and informing Nanette that she was going to take a stroll along the cliff path to admire the view.
The blinds were pulled down in the windows of the apothecary's shop in Colchise to protect the wares from the fierce midday sun. The bell tinkled as Celestine pushed open the door, and the apothecary appeared from the back room-a wizened old man who stared at her suspiciously. The atmosphere was dry and made her want to cough, as though a fine film of dust from his medicinal herbs hung in the air.
”Purple h.e.l.lebore?” He tutted disapprovingly. ”Why would you need such a rare and potent drug?”
”Rare?”
”It only grows on the lower mountain slopes around Lake Taigal. I have to import it from Khitari.”
So it would be expensive. ”My physician in Lutece prescribed it. I have terrible headaches.” She placed gold coins on the counter. ”Nothing else will do.”
The apothecary nodded and swiftly pocketed the coins. While he was busy in his dispensing room, Celestine stared at the rows of painted jars, each labeled with the names of herbs or chymical compounds. If she closed her eyes for a moment, that evocative dusty smell took her back to her father's study.
Had he ever been driven to use the spells in the grimoire? It grieved her that she knew so little about her own father, and even more so that it had to be Kaspar Linnaius, his treacherous partner, who held the information she longed to learn.
”Every time you use one of the glamours, it will deprive you of some of that essential life force that the magi call the Essence.”
Herve's warning echoed through Celestine's mind as she locked her bedchamber door and began to prepare the substances she had purchased in the little shop in the citadel.