The Chemickal Marriage

and will not faint.’
    Chang began to undo the red silk buttons of the cleric’s coat. He glanced at Pfaff, measuring the distance between them. The Doctor, behind the desk, could be discounted, and the Contessa had made the mistake of sitting down. The dagger cane would be an unfamiliar weapon to Pfaff, and, once Chang’s coat was off – their request put his best weapon straight in hand – it would be a moment’s work to whip it across Pfaff’s eyes and step past the blade. Two swift blows and Pfaff would be down. Chang did not even need to recover the dagger. He could snatch up an end table and dash out the Contessa’s brains.
    He slipped off the scarlet coat and took casual hold of the collar. ‘If you hope to exchange me, may I ask what you will receive in trade?’
    The Contessa blew smoke at the ceiling. ‘Not what, but whom. I was not strictly forthcoming during our ride. Celeste Temple lives. Vandaariff has her, and offers her to me, in hopes that I will hand over Francesca Trapping. However, my
intuition
says he would be even more delighted to get
you
.’
    Chang blinked behind his dark spectacles.
    ‘That is a lie, to make me cooperate.’
    ‘It is not.’
    ‘Why should I trust you, of all people on earth?’
    ‘Because our interests are one. Besides, Cardinal, can you afford
not
to believe me? Will you fail her yet again?’
    The Contessa’s face might have been made of porcelain for all he could penetrate her thoughts. He knew she viewed his compliance with contempt.
    ‘Where do you gain in this? Celeste Temple is your enemy.’
    ‘She remains useful – providing Oskar has not too much
despoiled
her, of course – another reason time is of the essence. Because I will
not
deliver Francesca Trapping –’
    ‘As you’ve given her to Doctor Svenson.’
    ‘I have done nothing of the kind. She is quite easily recovered.’
    ‘You underestimate him.’
    ‘The question is whether I have underestimated
you
. If you do not choose with speed, I must refuse his offer, and Miss Temple will surely die.’
    ‘What would you have done had I not found you?’
    ‘Something else. But once you did appear, I was able to oblige everyone. Our driver has carried word to Vandaariff.’
    ‘Then take me to him and be done with it.’
    ‘I said I was obliging, not that I was stupid. Take off your
shirt
.’
    She tapped her ash into a dish of liquorice sweets. ‘Near the base of the spine, Doctor. Any
adaptation
will be there.’
    Chang draped his coat over a chair and set his spectacles atop it. He hauled his black shirt over his head, restored the spectacles and laid the shirt next to the coat. Piersohn had come around the desk, pulling behind him a standing tray of shining implements.
    ‘So many scars.’ The Contessa studied Chang’s bare torso. ‘Like one of Oskar’s paintings. Sigils, he calls them – as if some ancient, lost god has scratched its name on your flesh. Isn’t that a charming thought, Cardinal, fit for poetry?’
    ‘Fit for a graveyard,’ said Pfaff. He aimed the stick at a line along Chang’s ribcage. ‘How’d you get that one?’
    ‘Do you mind, sir?’ snapped Piersohn, waving the stick away.
    Pfaff only lifted it out of reach and then, as soon as the Doctor’s attention returned to his tools, darted it forward, tapping Chang’s scar. Chang snatched at the haft, but Pfaff, laughing, was too quick.
    ‘Please, Jack,’ the Contessa called genially. ‘The
time
.’
    Pfaff grinned, his point made, and gave the Doctor room.
    ‘If you would turn, and place your hands there.’ The Doctor indicated a leather-topped table. Chang did as he was asked, leaning forward.
    ‘Christ in heaven!’ blurted Pfaff. ‘Is it plague?’
    ‘Be
quiet
, Jack!’ hissed the Contessa.
    Chang felt the rough tips of Piersohn’s fingers palpate the perimeter of his wound.
    ‘The original puncture just missed the spine on one side and the kidney on the other – a shallow wound, and lucky, as the blade pulled upwards –’
    ‘
Yes
,’ the Contessa said impatiently. ‘But what has been
done
? That
colour
.’
    Piersohn pressed against the object Vandaariff had placed in Chang’s body. Chang clenched his jaw, not at pain, for he felt none, but at a queasy discomfort. Each time Piersohn touched the wound, Chang sensed more clearly the piece of glass inside him. Piersohn reached to feel Chang’s forehead.
    ‘The inflammation,’ the Contessa asked, ‘is it sepsis or an effect of the