Part 33 (1/2)
There was much that Eugene had not told his wife about that last, desperate battle at the Serpent Gate. Only Gavril Nagarian knew how close they had all come to annihilation and the part that Andrei had played. He looked at Gustave above Astasia's dark head. ”Has anyone seen the Magus recently, Gustave?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.
”No, imperial highness.”
”Then send word to all our s.h.i.+ps in the southern quadrant to start to search for the Empress's brother and his companions. And I want to know which vessels have survived this catastrophe unscathed.”
Linnaius was the only one capable of effecting a swift rescue mission. But Linnaius had disappeared. From the elegiac tone of their last conversation, Eugene feared that the old Magus was ailing and had gone to some desolate place to die. He had even set his affairs in order, initiating Professor Kazimir in his alchymical secrets so that he could continue his work for the New Rossiyan armies.
”If you can still hear me, Kaspar,” he said, gazing out at the wintry sky, ”I really need your help.”
A soft, chill sensation brought Linnaius slowly back to consciousness. He was still lying in the alley, and flakes of snow were falling on him, forming a soft white coverlet. He managed to push himself up to his hands and knees, every muscle in his body trembling with the effort.
Azilis could have killed me. But here I am still...frozen to the bone, and more likely to die of exposure to the cold than a bolt of aethyric energy...
Slowly he crawled forward until he reached the shelter of a doorway.
So why am I still alive? He brushed the snow off his robes. He brushed the snow off his robes. Has she put all her energy into protecting Celestine? Or has she been too long away from the Rift, the source of her powers? Has she put all her energy into protecting Celestine? Or has she been too long away from the Rift, the source of her powers?
Linnaius leaned his throbbing head back against the rotting doorpost and watched the snowflakes silently falling, transforming the shabby buildings with their crystalline sheen.
She had defeated him this time, yet he was determined not to give up. He would need time to heal. But so would Azilis.
”Hey! Old man! You can't sleep here!”
Linnaius came back to his senses to see two constables of the watch standing over him, s.h.i.+ning a lantern in his face.
”Had a few too many, grandpa?” One of them bent down and eased him up into a sitting position. ”Time to go home. You'll catch your death lying in fresh snow.”
”D'you think you can make it on your own?” Between them, they hauled him to his feet, propping him up. Linnaius felt a fool. But he was still too weak from Azilis's attack to do anything but accept their help.
”Where's your house?” the first constable asked loudly. Linnaius waved one hand vaguely toward the square.
”Better take him down to the constabulary.”
Lying in a cell, Linnaius stared up at the cracked ceiling. If he had not felt so feeble, he would have smiled at the irony. It wasn't so long since he had been imprisoned by the Commanderie and now here he was, behind bars again, for being ”incapable with drink.” In truth, he was grateful to the two constables for rescuing him and giving him shelter on such a bitterly cold night. Huddled close to the little stove in the cell were three elderly vagrants and a couple of drunkards, one of them constantly mumbling to himself. The cell stank of old men's p.i.s.s and unwashed bodies, but Linnaius was in no position to complain. In his weakened state, he could have frozen to death if the men hadn't stumbled across him.
Next morning, the constables spooned out a bowl of steaming hot porridge for each of the old men and sent them off into the dawn. Linnaius stood gazing up at the scarlet-stained eastern sky. The light of the rising sun had tinged the snowy rooftops a strange and b.l.o.o.d.y pink. Fortified with porridge, he set out at a dragging and unsteady pace over the frozen snow. Muscobites milled about him, all moving more swiftly than he as they hurried to work; ants, he thought, swarming past a slow, old snail. On the corner, a vendor was selling newspapers, shouting his wares aloud in a high-pitched, cracked voice.
”Tragedy in the southern quadrant! Tidal wave ruins spice trade! King of Francia lost at sea!”
Linnaius stopped. Had he heard aright? He hobbled up to the news vendor. ”King Enguerrand drowned?” he said.
”I don't give out the news for free,” said the vendor as other customers pushed in, jostling Linnaius, to buy their copies.
If Enguerrand was feared dead, what had become of Prince Andrei, his traveling companion? Eugene had no love for his arrogant brother-in-law, but he would not wish the Empress Astasia to suffer his loss a second time.
Eugene needs me. Somehow I've got to find the strength to make it back to Swanholm...
Yelena sent Celestine back to the draper's to buy turquoise thread and ribbons.
Even though she knew she should not, Celestine retraced her steps to see if the old Magus's body was still lying where she had left him the previous night. The alley was covered with a thick fall of fresh snow, but all that she could see were the delicate prints of birds' wiry feet.
A sudden sound made her jump. Heart thudding, she looked round to see crows watching her from the fence; more were lining up on the lopsided gable of a nearby tenement. She remembered Jagu's fear of birds. She remembered the soul-stealing magus who had taken Henri's soul and his hawk. She began to back away. Could the magi use crows as their familiars?
”He's gone.” The Faie's voice echoed, feeble but distinct, in her mind. The Faie's voice echoed, feeble but distinct, in her mind.
”You're all right!” Celestine crossed her arms over her breast, hugging herself with relief. Her breath steamed on the frosty air.
” We're safe-for now. We're safe-for now.”
”But Linnaius is still alive?”
”Forgive me, Celestine, I left you unprotected. I was just...so very... weary.”
Linnaius arrived at Swanholm as the palace was waking to a dark and dreary dawn. He entered the palace by the secret pa.s.sage that led directly to the Emperor's private apartments, pa.s.sing bleary-eyed maids, who stared at him in surprise as they lugged heavy baskets of logs and coals to make up the fires.
He found Eugene already at his desk, going through a pile of dispatches.
”I came as soon as I could,” Linnaius announced.
Eugene hurried toward Linnaius and took him by the arm to steady him. ”Magus,” he said, ”please sit down. Let me pour you a drink. Aquavit?”
For once Linnaius did not refuse. As he sat sipping the powerful spirit, an expensive blend from Northern Tielen, flavored with coriander, the fog in his head began to clear.
”You've been pus.h.i.+ng yourself too hard.” Eugene was watching him with those pale blue eyes that missed nothing. ”So, you heard the news about Enguerrand?”
”Am I to a.s.sume that Prince Andrei is feared lost too?”
Eugene gave a curt nod.
”And you'd like me to go to look for them?”
”Our agents in Francia have just informed me that Ilsevir of Allegonde is to succeed Enguerrand. Until now, Allegonde has remained neutral. But those d.a.m.ned religious fanatics, the Rosecoeurs, have just appointed Ilsevir their patron.”
This was unexpected news. Linnaius knew now why Eugene looked so troubled. Allegonde and Francia united would be a considerable threat to the stability of the new Empire.
”This tidal wave,” Eugene said. ”Could it have anything to do with what happened at the Serpent Gate?”
Linnaius's thoughts had been running along the same lines. ”It's possible that the tremendous surge of power that destroyed the Gate set off a volcanic eruption. Which, in turn, caused the wave to sweep through the Azure Ocean.”
Eugene fell silent at this suggestion.
”You mustn't blame yourself,” Linnaius said, antic.i.p.ating what the Emperor was thinking. ”If you hadn't closed the Serpent Gate, Nagazdiel would have come through into our world. And the consequences of such an act...”
”Even so...” Eugene said. Then he seemed to shrug it aside. ”But you must rest before you set out, old friend.”