The Chemickal Marriage

He turned again to Miss Temple, without expression, and her blood went cold. ‘Does this woman live?’
    ‘This is not my uncle!’ declared Schoepfil, edging closer. ‘I do not believe it.’
    Chang ignored him, drinking deeply. ‘Come out, Rosamonde. If I owe this delivery to your kindness, I would thank you.’
    ‘Are you truly healed?’ she asked.
    ‘In every particular.’
    ‘Then you cannot be offended by a
test
. Much depends upon it. Poor Mr Schoepfil’s inheritance, for one.’
    ‘Does he
have
an inheritance?’ asked Chang drily. ‘Surely new provisions have been made. As for tests … try me as you see fit.’ Chang inhaled deeplyand drew his fingers along the canvas hoses, the blackened hanks of wire. He gazed into the porcelain coffins. ‘What a provocative arrangement … what
sacrifice
.’ With a shiver Miss Temple saw his gaze fall on a small table of metal tools. He nodded to it and addressed the acolytes. ‘Take that woman down. She ought to be
examined
while the infusion is fresh …’
    The acolytes leapt to the task. With two successive jerks Miss Temple was brought flat on her back. As the straps were loosed and the mask none too gently peeled free, she heard more questions fly at Chang.
    ‘How did Harald Crabbé perish?’ asked the Contessa.
    ‘What do you know about Ned Ramper?’ called Pfaff, who had pulled the tray of sharp tools from an angry acolyte.
    ‘When did we last speak?’ demanded Schoepfil. ‘The two of us alone?’
    ‘Excellent questions …’ Chang approached Miss Temple’s table. She felt the exposure of her bare limbs and a helplessness in her heart.
    ‘What would you have me do now, my lord?’ asked Mr Foison.
    Chang ignored the question and brought his scarred face up to hers. With his thumb Chang wiped the black drool from Miss Temple’s chin. An acolyte offered him a cloth.
    ‘The Bride has accepted the corruption, my lord. Consuming the flesh of life –’
    ‘To make the flesh of dreams. By whose command?’
    ‘By your own,’ answered the Contessa.
    ‘I do not recall it.’ For the first time Chang noted the corpse of Robert Vandaariff. ‘But I am apparently indebted for your … assistance.’
    ‘There will be ample time to discuss debts.’
    ‘I would expect no less.’ Chang’s arm slipped and he fell back, catching himself on the table, his mouth near Miss Temple’s ear. His words were scarcely more than a sigh. ‘Remember the rooftop.
Stay alive
.’
    Miss Temple did not move. ‘
Rooftop
.’ Happily – so
very
happily – she saw the Doctor had exchanged books – his fussy juggling, his insistence that the glass be cleaned, the leather case turned for an instant from all eyes. And the Contessa’s book had shattered on the iron stairs. If nothing else, the Comte could never return.
    Acolytes moved at once to help him up. Chang pushed them away. He faced his audience and snapped his fingers. ‘I am perfectly well – but
underclothed
. A shirt. For the rest of you, Harald Crabbé died on a dirigible, slain by that woman’s hand. You and I, nephew, have not spoken alone for
years
. As for this Ned Ramper, I confess to never having heard the name.’
    ‘A lie!’ Pfaff smacked a fist into his palm. ‘He was your captive in this very house!’
    ‘I do not
recall
it,’ replied Chang. ‘But neither do I recall the changes made to this room. So many beautiful machines. Have I been … asleep?’
    Before any of the acolytes could reply, the Contessa spoke forcefully: ‘Unfortunately the procedure was not completely successful. The blood fever has clouded Lord Vandaariff’s memory of recent events.’
    ‘Then have I answered you? Or is there more?’
    Chang smiled thinly, as if his patience had been exactly spent. He held out his arms as an acolyte returned with a crisp white shirt and allowed himself to be dressed.
    ‘What I would have you
do
, Mr Foison,’ he went on, gesturing to the bodies on the floor and in the tubs, ‘is to gather these men up. If they are dead take them away; if they live, let them wake and receive judgement. Assuming I command my own house, of course. Do I?’
    The acolytes bowed at once. After a moment’s hesitation, the green-coats came to attention. Chang turned his gaze to the glass.
    ‘And you,
Signora
? Will you not join us?’
    Miss Temple rolled her head slowly from side to side, as if in delirium. She counted, to her right, four acolytes bending over Mr Cunsher and Mr Gorine, and one